Gang, it’s not about the avoirdupois, it’s the geometry of my bones. Well, it’s mostly not about the avoirdupois. I’m at peace with my figure. It’s not what it used to be, sure, but genetics, disciplined eating, and moderate activity keep me within boundaries for health and societally accepted shape.

However,  I think it’s possible to like your body well enough, and still prefer the silhouette certain kinds of clothes give you. And in my case, narrow hips and shortish legs mean that, after my shoulders, upper thighs are the broadest part of my body. Hence, what I refer to as the Bowling Pin Effect. Skinny jeans bring it on.

Witness a classic skinnies look. High-neck tee, J. Crew ankle matchstick denim, old pointy-toe ballet flats.

Not my favorite. Would look great on those of you long of leg, short of waist, or narrow of shoulder.

Let’s say I wanted to wear a slightly longer top. How about an Ann Mashburn button front and some Jeffrey Campbell platforms for leg-lengthening?

Nope. The hem dips where it should rise, and vice versa.

But surely there’s a way! How about a long Bompard cashmere tunic? Technically a sweater dress, but hey, belt it! Lord knows why I have a black grommeted belt in my drawer, but I do. Pull on the Isabel Marant Dickers.

A bit better. I don’t generally care for over-belting, as it provokes fussing and fidgeting, not to mention clothes riding up or riding down incorrectly. For example, the way the sweater is caught up above my bustline? That’s bound to happen over and over again. Still, this outfit was good enough that I left it on for a while. And guess what I realized.

Skinny jeans are skinny because they are Tight. A brilliant observation, right? That’s a lot of tough fabric constraining some generally softer parts. Sturdy Gals can take their sturdiness only so far.

And there we have it. I’ll be over here with Rachel Zoe waiting for my favorite trouser trends to return. But if skinnies work for your silhouette, I recommend you stay the course, even through the inevitable Trough of Disillusionment. This is not a post on self-dislike; it is more evidence that everyone ought to trust their sartorial gut.

Share on Facebook

Perhaps the physical fails. My hair isn’t clean enough, my eyes not bright, I’m tired. Perhaps it’s the emotional. Every now and then I misplace my will. Don’t want to soldier on. But, well, that’s what they pay us for.

In those moments, I need to degrade gracefully. I want to raise no hopes, wave no flags, make no promises. On these days, I’m in navy. It’s cultural, and complexion-based. High WASPs like navy blue, ruddy Sturdy Gals especially. These clothes don’t challenge, at all. Sometimes defining the negative carefully is more useful than attempting the positive.

I get that this isn’t stylish. That’s kind of the point. Surely you have a similar fallback in your closet? Appropriate to your situation, your coloring, and your culture?

Yes, we wear old jeans in my office. Trust me on that one.

Not only am I in navy, I’m in navy and a  light blue shirt. While on a good day, I’ll pair navy with orange, on a rough one, I retreat. This Brooks Brothers button front has the additional good sense to require no ironing at all.

It’s a good thing they pay me to think, not feature pops of color.

A full reversion to the mean would imply pearls as well. But I almost always can locate a little reserve of audacity, if I’m careful. In fact,  preserving a seed encourages the full flower to return. Probably High WASP audacity blooms like wisteria, dropping purple petals all over the back patio chaise longue. I could imagine other personalities breaking out in peonies, or birds of paradise.

These are dragon earrings, from San Francisco’s Chinatown. The jewelers use 24K gold, and it’s very red gold, almost orange.. Doesn’t matter if no one else notices. One dresses for oneself, at the end of the day. Earrings are the final gate. I surrender until you get right up close.

In centuries past, dragons flapped wings and fire through faraway, unexplained regions. These days, the most mysterious region is our self. Onwards.

Share on Facebook

Tankinis are, if anything, worse than maillots. Bathing suits stretched tight are tolerable, once gathering and flapping commences all hope is lost.

I confess that did I wear a bikini in Hawaii. But I’d be hard-pressed to do so anywhere except the tropics, and very hard-pressed to do so except in the presence of Significant Other and my children. I bear no ill will towards the belly that bore my babies, but like birth photos, it’s not something I need to share with the world.

So when I saw this nautical high-waisted two-piece number on net-a-porter, I stopped and looked. Surely this s less brazen than a bikini, possibly it avoids the full matron of many skirted, or shorts-bottomed suits.

Quite a nice variant of the species,  I think. But $575? Yikes.

The red Norma Kamali below was apparently one of her best-selling items, ever. That’s ruching I could embrace, alternatively, allow to embrace me. Still pricey at $350, but a classic. Luckily, the style is currently benefiting from other retro revisits. The Rose Bug print by Ted Baker can be had for $150. i imagine that Target racks would yield a few that looked great on.

Which is not to say, of course, that the high-waited two-piece bathing suit can’t be done very, very badly.

We do not want to look as though:

• We’re wearing leopardskin granny panties
• One quick tug and we’ll be pantsless
• Our middle requires full opera curtains, no matter how lovely the colors.

What say you, oh Privilege[d]? I sense I may be on my own here.

Images:
YSL Red Nautical via net-a-porter $525 for the full suit
Bug Print Ted Baker via ASOS $80.57 for the bottom
Red Norma Kamali via net-a-porter $175 for the bottom
Leopardskin Cavali via Neiman Marcus $440 for the full suit
Mara Hoffman Bondage brief via ASOS $385 for the full suit
Mara Hoffman “Tut” via Madewell

Share on Facebook

The true colors of a vintage shirtwaist

The respond to my last post was so interesting that I had to follow up. You all had great ideas about the dress Terri sent me, and how to wear it. To wit,

Rubiatona:  Yellow cardigan, blue or gray flats, bangles galore.
mademarian: High-heeled gladiators, carefully done hair, big beautiful brooch
Susan:  Bangles, colorful necklace
Duchesse: Blue Fluevogs
Crissa: Biker booties and jacket
Kelli: Colored jewelryCaroline: Bright patent leather or woven yellow braided belt.
Janet: Bright cardigan
Karena: Bright cardigan
Flo: Add white shirt
FLT: Become a 20-25 year old:)

But do I own this?

Or these:

Or this?

Nope. Not even close. Although I do occasionally consider buying biker booties and a jacket, for sheer waywardness.

I find it quite interesting that you all had similar ideas, ideas similar, by the way, to how Terri wore the dress originally, and yet I can’t put a single one into action. Sometimes one’s closet speaks louder than words. It turns out that I’m not one to pop up an outfit with color or accessories. This in turns explains the great deal of thought I put into finding daily basics. Good news is I could probably come up with a white shirt.

Elizabeth and I are discussing a new home for the dress. If the measurements don’t work for her, Donna your turn. Unless Mags’ MIL prevails. Community is all.

And here, by the way, is the photo of Terri in the same dress. A mini-tutorial in colored accessories, if you will.

Cotton/spandex cardigan via Nordstrom, only $34 and comes in oodles of colors
Bottega Veneta flats $590 (sigh)
Vintage Bakelite bangle via Michelle’s Vintage Jewelry $35

Share on Facebook

Have you ever wondered why certain items of clothing become fashion pariahs? In particular, I am quite concerned about the fate of Crocs and Scrunchies. Why are they so loathed? Did you know there is even a Facebook group called Why Would You Wear A Scrunchie? Honestly.?

What’s wrong, examining afresh, with a velvet-covered hair elastic? My favorite one is gray, and well-worn. What, in the context of gardening, is wrong with Crocs? And, beyond gardening, why are Crocs (of the tasteful color variety) any worse than Danskos? Is not a clog, really, a clog?

My theory is that we’re looking at a phenomenon known in grammar studies as metonymy. Metonymy means using a part to represent the whole. For example,

“The Crown decreed that no one should wear Crocs.”

In this case, the Crown means the King or Queen. A part, to mean the whole.

I think when we hate the Scrunchie we are reviling the entire big hair, hot pink off-shoulder-cut-up sweatshirt and purple Lycra leggings look. I also think some people say Scrunchies are the devil as code for “I am stylish and in the know.” I think when we hate the Crocs we are shaking our fingers at cargo-pant and camp-shirt, undone hair,  middle-aged women who appear to be wearing garden clogs to the mall because they just give up.

We may wish that teenagers didn’t en masse start to wear odd, ugly clothes combinations. We may wish to nudge, and to help, midlife women who find personal style overwhelming. But we shouldn’t really blame it on the accessories, now, should we? Are poor, innocent, Scrunchies truly at fault?

Share on Facebook

How do I know?

I’m old. And I remember. We didn’t use to wear shorts anywhere but in the great out of doors. Or on college campuses. Grown women didn’t wear shorts to go to the grocery store, or to parties, and certainly not out and about in a city. Certainly not.

The only time I ever wore shorts in a city I got kicked in the back of the knee for my foolishness. It was 1979. An acquaintance from college invited me out to Long Island for 4th of July. It was probably the Hamptons, now that I think about it, but I knew nothing of all that. I donned khaki Bermudas, a pink and white striped camp shirt, and some tan fisherman’s sandals. Hopped onto the subway. Somewhere between 104th and the train station a group of teenagers began to taunt me, and, as I exited the train in a hurry, full of relief, a girl kicked me lightly from behind.

This weekend I bought new shorts. After a solid decade of service, my old Banana Republic 3-inch khakis were on their last legs, so to speak. I considered, come the revolution, what are the right shorts for a woman over 50?

I looked online. My how shorts have changed.

Shorts from MIH, James Perse and Acne , all via net-a-porter, $155-$660. The ones on the right are suede.

In 2011 we apparently can wear suede shorts out to dinner. We also can spend lots and lots of money.

But I don’t plan to wear shorts at night. Doesn’t seem necessary, given that the revolution hasn’t done away with dresses. So what are the options for day shorts? Continue in the lengths of my 40s?

Chambray shorts from Target, $18.00, Heritage khaki from Banana Republic, $40.00

I remember my neighbor, Anabelle. She wore very short shorts to mow her front lawn. At 70. I watched her, all righteous in the full flush of my 30s, and I was a little shocked. “Does she need to do that?” I thought. It was 1987. Looking back, I realize a) she was proud of her slender shape b) her husband thought she was a babe c) it was her own damn front yard and none of my business.

J. Crew Chinos, $68.00. In the "novelty shorts" section. I should have known.

In that vein, these J. Crew shorts looked about right. Apt to be well-made, classic with a little twist. My recent L.L. Bean purchases have lacked quality, the Target shorts online were too trendy, the Banana Republic version sported tabs at the thigh. Why on earth would we want tabs at the thigh, we wonder? Off I went to J. Crew, only to find out that lavender (the only color in stock) sailor shorts are less than successful on me. Today. Just because one can, doesn’t mean one wants to. Khaki Bermudas, on the other hand, fit the bill. Summer weight, 98% cotton, 2% spandex.

Just remember that with khaki Bermudas, since one’s legs are no longer contributing many feminine cues, one must add a little frou-frou to the top. Go without sleeves. Praise the Shake-Weight.

I am not expecting to be kicked this summer. All hail the revolution. Some of us will arrive in Bermudas.

Share on Facebook

Why, you may wonder? Well let’s consider.

The Four Factors Leading Us Toward A Long Tail

1. Michael Jackson, AKA The King of Pop

We were besieged by images of Mr. Jackson upon his unfortunate demise. Those band-leader/military jackets imprinted, and the style is making its way through our cultural consciousness – in various guises.

2. High-waisted pants

After a decade of low-rise pants, followed by a long stretch of skinny jeans, we’ve seen some high-waisted, Charlie!-ad-in-the-1970′s, inspiration recently. A high waist looks much better with a jacket that nips in at the right spot.

3. Downton Abbey

Have you seen this show on PBS? I’ve just started watching online, here. While some may succumb to a desire for fine cotton lawn, gloves, and buttoned boots, I have a scary urge to dress like one of the footmen.

4. Momentum

Designers are picking all this up. For example:

And even better, from Bassike,

I honestly imagine the jacket worn with those baggy, high-waisted, only-a-few-centimeters-away-from-sweatpants pants. I imagine I could lounge on the sofa, lightweight cotton preventing any sofa burn from sweaty thighs, then throw on the jacket like a cool person, any time I left the house. But, of course, in that daydream I’m also 32 and Artsy.

The One Factor Holding Us Back

Public toilets. Trailing fabric. Say no more.

Images:
Michael Jackson, Purple Velvet via MyTherese
Downton Abbey via the Telegraph
Pants via Style.com Trend Report
Jackets, Elizabeth and James, Gryphon, and Rag and Bone, via Bluefly
Bassike via High Snobette

Share on Facebook

What’s your closet gremlin? It could be the blouse that gaps, (but is the only one that works with the olive green jacket) those shoes that grate, (but they’re your only metallic heels) or an ugly Princeton sweatshirt that belongs to one of your kids (but it’s so comfortable!).

This is what I kept finding myself wearing to the grocery store, and for brisk walks through the neighborhood. People turned and looked, and I, having of course forgotten what I had on, thought “Oh you nice people noticing the middle-aged lady.” We are frequently invisible. Little known fact. However, my Whole Foods is in a college town, my neighborhood right next to said college town,  and I am flaunting a great big orange Princeton right across my chest. As the kids would say, “Duh!”

Princeton apparently chose these colors in deference to William of Orange. The Prince of Orange. Get it? A) I doubt he cared B) Students, professors and alumni have been blessed with orange and black gear for all eternity. It’s really ugly. It’s in your face. And, having been through the knuckle-biting misery that America calls the College Admissions Process, twice, I feel it’s unnecessary to wear this out and about during acceptance high season. (We will save for another day any discussion of the complex web of talent and privilege that constitutes higher education in America, shall we?)

So I wanted to upgrade. To find something that suits me better. 

Let’s deconstruct. I default to Ugly Sweatshirt because it’s comfortable. Any replacement would have to offer a 98% comfort equivalence, at minimum. (I calculated my tolerances with a protractor.) This constrained the replacement. Usually clothing suits you via either silhouette or color. Given the comfort requirements, I had no wiggle room in silhouette. Which left color.

And this sweater.

L.L. Bean’s Marled Cotton Sweater in Mid-Blue. Predictable? Yes. Trendy? No. Edgy? Not even close. But me and blue, what can I say? It does things for my eyes I can’t deny. Witness that old cashmere sweater. The Naracamicie shirt. At my age, when one’s hair and lips fade, you gotta celebrate any color you can find.

This sweater is not, in any absolute sense, the greatest in the universe. It’s cotton, which is good for California, but a little waxy, a little stiff. Hits just above my hip-bones, a little wider than I prefer. I’m long-waisted, this kind of fit is a body type hazard. But at $39.50, and in colors ranging from Amethyst to Foliage to Stone, it’s OK. Compared to the Ugly Sweatshirt, it’s a veritable ballgown. And does what it should.

Make the world more lovely, and less annoying, one step at a time. I’ve been surprised by the impact.

Share on Facebook

But Queen Victoria, who ushered in the era of the High WASP in America, was herself plus size. We cannot let an entire segment of the deserving populace go unserved. Those who wish to follow this aesthetic should be allowed to do so. However, I can say that all I wish, and if the resources are not available it’s an empty statement.

So I went hunting. Some general observations. First, the industry does not, very often, show plus size fashion on plus size people. No surprise there, I suppose. They don’t show standard fashion on standard people. But those in the standard segment have many, many retail outlets at which to translate photos of 5’10″ women who weigh 110 pounds wearing photoshopped dresses into actual selves in actual dresses. Plus size? Not so much. Hard to find large quantities of plus size clothing assembled anywhere a High WASP would be happy shopping.

Second, I am puzzled as to why the industry assumes that plus size women prefer what appear to be, to High WASP eyes, undignified colors and patterns. We don’t wear bright lavender much, nor dusty rose in shiny fabrics. We don’t like large, irregular patterns with a lot of white space. Perhaps, as has been suggested, the assumption is that the plus size demographic has a culturally determined, and different, aesthetic.

Third, I am guessing that the rule for dignified clothing choices is universal. Your clothing should treat you well. The part of your body that most pleases you? Show it off. Have a defined waist line? Define it, then. A nice line to your legs? Underline them. I could be a little off base. But the high level principle of approaching style with affection for one’s being cannot be wholly wrong.

No matter. What does matter, if you suffer from the High WASP allergy to over-ornamentation, large prints, and colors not found in nature, is what you can find to wear. Let me quite humbly submit my suggestions. For casual wear, from Artsy Cousin, (in her urban, black-is-queen guise) to the Sturdy Gal, (quite happy in khakis and a soft t-shirt), to the Grande Dame (never in jeans without heels).

High WASP Casual Plus Size by High WASP featuring Christian Louboutin shoes

I include the item list because in this case, while you may understand the idea of High WASP style, actually implementing it is a problem. And what showing the list makes clear is that one may have to go to Europe to find what one is looking for. And even learn how to speak French. I’m still trying to figure out if any of these sites ship to the USA.

Moving on to the office. Did any of you watch Drop Dead Diva? I didn’t much like the show, writing was too sentimental for my astringent soul, but found the star’s clothing to be spot on. And have looked here for work wear in that vein.

High WASP Workwear Plus Size by High WASP featuring Christian Louboutin shoes

The High WASP credo, “Good bag, good shoes, good look!” does not change when we enter the plus size realm. And that Brooks Brothers bag? $350. I haven’t seen it in real life, but it appears that The Brothers are right in there with Talbots for mid-range, well-designed bags this year.

And finally, dressing up plus size. I have only one thing to say. They don’t call her Queen for nothing.

A shade of lavender that might be found in many a well-proportioned English garden. Simple but rich ornamentation, not too geometric, not too anthropomorphic. (Really, Charlize, what were you thinking? No matter how svelte, how tall, how golden of skin, we do not wear rosettes that look like bosom targets. Don’t even get me started on Carla Bruni. My pique is not caused by any general fear of breasts, I promise. Dignity and respect for a bone fide social context has nothing to do with body type.)

And now to you. Perhaps you know more than I in this area. Please share, if you will. Goodwill and navy blue to all.

Share on Facebook

This Saturday, I went to San Francisco to get highlights and a haircut, browse (the modern word for gathering) Gumps for pearls and Murano glass, and hunt for khakis. On my way up Highway 101, I got the call that my guy had called in sick. Too late to turn around. I could have let the news wreck my day. But why?

I got to the city. Turns out the salon had moved to a larger space. Noisier. I could have let that wreck my day too. But why? So someone else cut my hair. In the noisy space. It was fine. I was elated, with swingy hair. I recommend glazes, by the way, for a little extra shine.

Then I ate lunch. At a place where you pay huge sums of money to get exactly what you want. That’s their menu above. Just taking a breath costs $6.50. Eating is more. I had swiss chard with roast tomato aoli.

And mussels in cream.

Oh my god.

I ate them in the kind of reverent hurry that good food deserves. Sat back, wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin, almost humming with happiness. Then I went shopping. Sort of. I browsed Gump’s pearls. They are so gorgeous that just looking satisfies my cravings. I don’t need more pearls in my life. Then I asked a saleswoman about the Murano glass doves. They don’t carry them in the store. I could have let that wreck my day. But why?

Back out on the streets of San Francisco, hunting for khaki. Gap has abandoned their heritage. And besides, the store in downtown smells of retail death. I skedaddled. Banana Republic, despite their signs that say, “Live In Chinos,” has stretch khakis only.

I do not want my khakis to stretch. Dress pants, good jeans, yes, please stretch, for optimum fitting and corralling of various body parts. For casual clothes I want the obdurate fit of woven cotton. Unmoving around my hips and baggy on the legs. In fact, I want to channel Katherine Hepburn, in disciplined khakis and a white shirt. Confidence, insouciance. Stretch pants are perfect when perfect, but terrifying in failure. They optimize, but they also shift, anxiously, they crawl into places they don’t belong. One could not fight off crocodiles in stretch pants.

I happened, finally, upon the Chanel boutique. Oh my god.

A gorgeous navy tweed jacket in the window. Classic shape, minimal fringe. (I’d show it to you, but apparently it was too special to have its picture taken.) I’ve been wanting to replace my old black and white houndstooth for ages. So I girded my loins and reapplied my lipstick. Even High WASPs have to reapply lipstick when entering a Chanel boutique. Especially if we know we probably won’t buy anything. (Remember, you just have to look as though you could, even if it’s only a look in your eyes.) The saleswoman informed me, with a certain glee, that my size was sold out. All across America, apparently. The gray version of the same jacket was lovely, and could be mine for approximately $5500. I say approximately, because after the number 5 I heard no more.

Were I still a visible executive, I’d have bought it. I’m a big believer in spending for beauty and impact. But this would have hung in my closet for decades, worn 3 times/year. Beauty, no impact.

I walked back to my car, drove home. Beautiful day. No rain. The sun shone on San Francisco bay in that way we almost take for granted. So much twinkling, so much slate blue. I walked in my front door, opened my laptop, got online, ordered the Murano doves. They remind me of a gold glass bird we had when I was growing up. I’m in the mood for whimsy. Researched Eddie Bauer (at Mrs. Lynch’s recommendation, thank you) and L.L. Bean khakis. Bean’s are stretchless. Ordered a pair for $39.50. Save money where you can, spend where it matters, abstain altogether from unnecessary purchases. Isn’t the Internet a great shopping safety net?

It was a good outing. Hunting for clothes, gathering time, seizing the day. I’ll let you know how the khakis turn out. What looks like Katherine Hepburn in one’s mind can turn out dowdy in person. Then you have to don your pith helmet and head back out.

Share on Facebook