Psychopreppy: Qu'est-ce que c'est?

If "psychobilly" can be the love child of punk and rockabilly music, then surely style can have a similar spawn. Hence, "psychopreppy," the product of prep and cynicism, aka sweetness with a snarl.

I was thinking about the need for psychopreppy as I got dressed the other day; I selected a shrunken Lacoste faded brilliant-green polo (just *made* to be worn with pink) and a faded heavily appliqued skirt from Anthropologie, circa San Francisco 2004. This I wore with a messy tall topknot and my Acne sandals from last summer.

Today it was my other Lacoste, a faded sky blue, paired with faded J Crew reddish-pink shorts. Lacoste with l'attitude.

If I were anywhere in the United States with "Cape" or "Island" in its name, I'd have fit in, but I am not near those places at the moment, so my attire looked out of place, but happily so.

Actually I have a love/hate relationship with preppy looks.  Clothing for women is either shapeless (potato-sack shift dresses) or infantilized ("critter" and other "cute" prints) or both (hello Lilly Pulitzer).  Its bright colours can lend a costume-y feeling, as if adults are playing dress-up, which is particularly noticeable in groups--a costume ball perhaps? 

But a lone preppy dresser (in faded colours), a true fish out of sartorial water, appeals to me precisely because it's got that odd-girl-out appeal. Think hydrangeas in August as they take on a genteel shabby chic.

So it's not the perky preppy that I like, but the moodier psychoprep.  Just waiting for the Talking Heads to put it to music.

Crazy Women in Beautiful Gowns? The Tonys 2013

My favourite line from a Broadway musical (as interpreted on tonight's Tony Awards) is uttered by Cinderella's fairy godmother: "You'd be surprised how many beautiful gowns have crazy women in them."

Indeed tonight was a night for women in gowns.  But especially for women who won non-gender-designated awards, like Pam MacKinnon, who directed the best play revival, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, or Diana Paulus, who directed the best musical revival, Pippin.

Or Cyndi Lauper, who won for best score. To be fair, she wore crazy hair (and Kinky Boots). Martha Lavey, Steppenwolf's artistic director and winning producer of the Woolf revival, also had what I'd call crazy hair, billows of crinkly gray piled atop her head.

from ChicagoMag

 And all these women brought their articulate game--no crazy speeches here. One of the best lines from a speech was delivered by Billy Porter, for his Kinky Boots leading-actor win. He insisted on sharing it with his co-star, adding, "But I'mma keep it at my house." He plays what HuffPost calls a "fierce drag queen," so maybe there's a bit of crazy in one of his gowns. Go see the show and find out.

Finally, there was also a beautiful woman in a crazy gown: Miss Cicely Tyson inhabited an architectural, deep purple garment that looked like a field of wild irises in bloom.

But she owned it and by the end of her thank-you speech, the audience was reminded that the colour purple has a special significance for women who want to be articulate, to say something truthfully. And I am thankful that NPH did not follow her with one of his running-gag Mike Tyson jokes. (I don't think Mr. Tyson, sitting in the audience, "got" them.)

Baja Fever: Coveting a J Crew Shirt (updated)

I quite liked this Baja embroidered shirt from J Crew last week and dropped it in my virtual shopping bag a couple of times.

I liked it a little more this week when it went on sale, but still couldn't convince myself to click all the buttons on the order screen.

Then when it was SOLD OUT a couple of days ago, I absolutely ADORED it and went on a wild search via eBay. I also checked in multiple times with the original source in case one turned up. Nothing.

But with a clearer mind tonight, I cooly ordered the shirt when one surprisingly was available in my size and colour. We'll see.

Update: worth the effort and wait. But do a half-tuck like Liya in the photo to avoid le boxiness. Plus, the neckline is dangerously low, though it doesn't look so in the photo. Of course.

See Miss C in Selvedge

I have a new story in the May/June issue of Selvedge on the Portuguese designer Teresa Martins.

The magazine focuses on "botanicals" for early spring, and, on the contributor's page, I reminisce about my favourite flower, the wild lupin that grows on Prince Edward Island.

I've included my contributor's photo here, and you can see it's a textile-focused image.  The scarf is by Pero, from my friends at Selvedge; the smock, made from Liberty of London peacock print, is by Nadinoo; and the silver bracelets are gifts from dear Nepali friends.

The Plaiddums Family at the Met Ball

 It wasn't Wednesday, so Christina Ricci ditched her goth-girl black for some glorious plaid (Vivienne Westwood tartan) at the Costume Institute ball last night.







And Sarah Jessica Parker revealed her Louis Vuitton tartan boots that complement her lacy knickers and outrageously embellished Philip Treacy mohawk.

These were two of my favourite looks that incorporated not only the spirit, but the fabrics of punk.

Never Mind the Bollocks; Here's the Met Ball!

So the Sex Pistols used a comma instead of a semi colon there; permit me a bit of prim with my punk.

I am getting ready to watch the arrivals to the Met Ball (or the Costume Institute ball) on MetMedia here. And one eye is on my 7-year-old son, who needs this computer to finish a PowerPoint on Narwal whales for tomorrow.  Oh dear.  At least they have a spiky horn, which makes them the original punk whales.

A little research turned up the above photo from the Met exhibit, which, everyone will know, features the safety-pin that a youthfully ripe Elizabeth Hurley made famous.  But is it punk?  I'm not sure that a safety pin (or a dozen) immediately marks a garment as such. 

Ahh; I hear the crowd and hosts Hilary Rhoda and Billy Norwich; do excuse me while I'm off to the Ball.

God Save the Preen: Dressing for the Met Ball

I've been reading with bemusement about frustrated fashionable ladies (along with a fashion writer or two) who cannot fathom how to dress for tomorrow's Costume Institute Ball at the Met: Punk: Chaos to Couture.

In a NYT article linked above, Cameron Silver, owner of the LA-based vintage shop Decades, said: “Not that many women want to look like Nancy Spungen.”

For the record, Nancy Spungen had her sartorial limits too.  In a scene from the film Sid and Nancy, she shoves on Sid's mother's clothes and storms out of the house after a violent confrontation.  When she sees her image reflected in a window, she gazes upon herself in horror and shrieks, "AGGHH!!  Siiid!  I look like F*$#^@% Stevie Nicks in hippie clothes!"

But back to the Met.  If I were going, I'd wear the Alexander McQueen confection above.  I'd ask Philip Treacy to make me a headpiece, perhaps something resembling a crown fashioned from wire and royal blue silk, which I'd wear atop my bird's-nest-inspired topknot. Easy peasy, right?

And just a note about the title of this post: probably all my gentle readers know that it refers to the 1977 song "God Save the Queen," screeched by the Sex Pistols during the year of Queen Elizabeth's silver jubilee.

Maybe my title's a tad irreverent, but someone's gotta celebrate the "pun" in "punk."

See you after the ball.