I’ve been dreaming of corduroy. Of course, we’re in the middle of California’s real summer, the one we keep secret from the world. Temperatures are in the high 80s. Sunlight the color of ginger ale, seduced by ice cubes. But we all know that imaginary wardrobes are sometimes more fun than the real ones. And winter cometh.
Off I went. Got quickly distracted by sweaters in the fisherman genre, as Sturdy Gals are wont to do. Like this from Orvis, which is actually for a man, and I found it via To The Manner Born, but they don’t call it “boyfriend” for no reason. If you want to get all precise, J. Crew may still have some women’s shrunken knit cuties.
Next, fulfill a peculiar urge for chukka boots, by Clark, in chocolate. We sense a theme: hot beverages by the fire. Clarks make these with a shearling lining too, but that’s really unnecessary in California’s climate. Your cold, wet, slushy mileage may vary. And yes, I am over-compensating for maple leaves.
For some reason now I want to start tying back my hair with a purple ribbon.
Put it all together, and it becomes clear we’re talking retro. The real 60s and 70s, no matter what Rachel Zoe and her ilk may tell you. This I wore in 1969, aiming at groovy. This I might have worn to Princeton, in September of 1974, all unaware of new territory ahead. We’re unclear how clothes dredged up from teenage years will work on someone in her mid-fifties, but we’re thinking purple ribbon on a gray ponytail would be pretty cool, as we used to say, and we haven’t yet given up cool.
Just where the royal we came from, I cannot tell you. Perhaps corduroy does mean cloth of kings, after all.