I fought valiantly against pencil skirts and pumps. At least this go-round, this decade. But pencil skirts have always been my destiny.
We all have native fashion types, right?. Sometimes we stretch ourselves and experiment. We essay hats, and full skirts, and cobalt blue pants. Other times we return to our sartorial roots, and find ourselves in a black and white shirt, pencil skirt and captoe Chanel-esque pumps.
And, occasionally, in front of a green door.
I’m wearing a Michael Kors Costco $60 wool peacoat, a badly tucked black and white Steven Alan shirt, jade heart necklace on a 24K chain, J. Crew #2 pencil skirt in cotton, and a pair of Beautifeel pumps. And I’m standing in a San Francisco alley, at 8:15am, posing in front of a tripod and camera set to 10-second autoshoot. Seemed time for a high-production value photo. Never underestimate a green door, especially when one is not the sort to wear one’s pops of color.
That’s a closeup of my hair. The light this foggy morning allowed me to finally make clear how grey my hair is, or is not, and what the impact of the grow-out is. I haven’t colored it since November 2010. For both those thinking of growing out their blonde, and those who wonder how I can possibly do so. It’s a constant process, style. A heuristic that settles you into your self.
It’s also fun. Janet, my over-50 knees salute you.
Let’s hunker down and get precise. Note I said “Chanel-esque pumps.” But Sturdy Gals, as we know, insist on being able to walk 1.3 miles there and back, with minimal discomfort. This is the Beautifeel Rebecca, Black Net Suede. A reference to Chanel quilting, I presume.
J. Crew, on the other hand, makes a great pencil skirt. It’s their sweet spot, ladylike but available in unladylike colors. I’m tempted by snake print. Steven Alan makes a nice, soft, just interesting enough shirt. That’s their trademark. Beautifeel does comfortable, Chinatown jade. In business we’d throw the words “core competencies” around. Maybe even “competitive advantage.”
Everybody’s got their style DNA. Perhaps not a veritable double-helix of glamor always, but as true as we can make it.