Whether Girl

For the last couple of days, I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time contemplating whether I should wear this or whether I should wear that.

I think it’s the transitional weather that’s confounding me: it’s too soon for cashmere sweaters and wool skirts, but too cool for light cotton dresses.

Indeed, for me, seasonal transitions are the most difficult times of year in which to dress. While I can usually write a transition that moves an idea smoothly from one paragraph to the next, wearing a transition is a different narrative, so to speak.

And I think it’s fascinating how strong one’s reactions to previously acceptable clothing can be. Just this morning, for instance, I took a camel-colored cotton tulip skirt from my closet, hoping to pair it with something, but the lightweight feel of the garment led me to fling it onto my bed in annoyance. This was a perfectly good skirt a couple of weeks ago.

That irritated feeling was the same one I get in early spring, when I’m caught on a warm day in a wool blazer. I have to peel it off, roll up the sleeves of whatever I’m wearing underneath, and tie up my hair immediately so I don’t feel the winter weight of my clothing.

So what did I wear today? Skinny black cropped trousers, three-inch black patent lace-up oxfords with silver thingies that the shoelaces weave through, scoop-neck tee, and an Elie Tahari plum-velvet, fitted, short jacket, with same-thread paisley embroidery all over.

But no socks. Actually, I can’t abide socks with cropped trousers (unless I’m looking at Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face). Nor do I like boots with crops. I think that the charm of cropped pants is that they saucily show off one’s bare ankles, and they lose their insouciance when paired with socks. (Yes, I’m lucky that my day job permits me to forego conventional foot furnishings.)

As a line from one of my son’s favorite films goes: “Whether the weather is cold, or whether the weather is hot, we’ll weather the weather, whatever the weather, whether we like it or not.” (Little Bear)

The Flat of the Hill

I tend to gravitate toward heights.

I seek out hills to run up, like the view from my b-i-l’s Beacon Hill pad, wear high heels. Even my hair gets high (via a topknot, not “teasing”!).

In fact, my heels have been getting higher each season: last spring I ventured into three-inch territory; this fall I’ve been perching on four-inch stems.

But as the gray clouds roll in, my mood is shifting, too, and I’m tired of scraping the sky; I’m leaning more and more toward the flat of the hill.

Today, for instance, I wore dark skinny cropped jeans, a nipped-in navy blazer, and super-pointy tweed flats with a chartreuse velvet ribbon trim. The “right” heels certainly could have worked, but flats seemed to punctuate the look perfectly.

Do you have “high” and “low” days, or are your shoe moods more consistent?

Back of the Closet 2: The Painted Home

I selected these images earlier this summer, when North America was lushly green and pinkly floral. I thought about composing a post then, but felt that there was enough natural color in my world at the moment; I’d save these for a rainy day.

It isn’t raining, but today there’s a real nip in the air and the skies are turning somber. Consequently, I’m craving a riot of color.

Hence the caravans. I’ve always loved painted furniture, a la Swedish Gustavian style.

or Vanessa Bell-sian screens and fireplaces.

Susannah Hunter also does a gorgeous screen in leather appliqué (though I haven't had luck with her bags).

But to have a delightfully painted home, that’s a different story. What would you wear?!

Back of the Closet: 1

Receptive to inspiration whenever it may strike, I sometimes save images to my computer’s blog folder and then forget about them.

In the spirit of a “back-of-the-closet moment,” I thought I’d occasionally go through my photo “archive” to see what I’d been thinking about a few months ago.

The first image I found is this scan of an illustration I did some years ago. The model is wearing a Versace dress, and I was trying to use clean lines and only hint at a finished form.

You’ve seen some of my watercolors, which are considerably more “done”; here’s a more spare pen-and-ink drawing.

Gender Baggage

For a very long time (1985-1999) I refused to carry a “purse-like object.”

Those items were too feminine, too dinky, for what I considered to be my fiercely independent feminista self, so I lived with a large clutch wallet instead.

If that’s all men need, than that’s all I need, thought I. And I got along just fine: my lipstick and key fit into the change pouch; I felt nicely self-contained.

I also prefer men’s leather carry-alls and funky messenger bags to those manufactured for women. When I do carry a woman’s bag, it must be sleek—no tassles, ruffles, or other frilly accessories; I like a very clean line.

(Unless I’m going for wild embellishments, as on my Ghost by Tanya Sarne bag, which is the most exuberant bag I’ve seen in awhile. It’s orange velvet with embroidery, sequins, tassels—it breaks all my rules!) Here's a photo of a considerably more modest Ghost bag:

And I like a bag to be large. If I must carry a bag, I’m going to carry a substantial one! But not a bag the size of a small trunk à la Katie Holmes.

Lately I’ve been getting the urge to borrow from the boys again, because two posts reminded me of some more gender-based baggage, so to speak.

For what I like in a man bag pour moi, check out the photo below, from the Sartorialist. This Mulberry bag comes in a *smaller* size for women. But I think that the oversized proportion works just fine on a woman’s arm. (And I do dislike “downsized” items for women. I always wore a man’s watch until finding my properly sized tank.)

Further, Disney Roller Girl just bought this men’s Prada clutch (just scroll for a couple of images) in New York. I love the color, the shape, the wrist band. It looks a little more substantial than a woman’s too.

To my mind, “little lady,” whether articulated verbally or through the language of accessories, should be banished.

Weird Fashionistas

Manhattan, NY—Fashion Week 2008 was engulfed by water as rain poured down in torrents during the shows at Bryant Park. Three weird fashionistas were heard having the following conversation. Full, legible text at the end. Props to the Bard, of course.












With many thanks to Songy, who turned me on to Phixr.com, a terrific photo manipulation site, and to enc, who graciously offered to Photoshop these images if I couldn’t do it on my own. This is obviously my first attempt, as I navigate font styles, size, color, etc . . . (P.S. I know two photos are upside down. I wanted my witches to fly.)

When shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

When the Fashion Week is done,
When there's no show left but one.
When Bryant Park is drenched in sun.

Where to meet?
Nearby the tent.

There to meet with MacQueen
[This witch doesn't realize she's on the wrong continent]

Fair is foul, and foul is fair,
Hover through the shows with filthy hair.

Child-Fendi Clothing

Tinky Winky


Dipsy


La La


Po



Teletubbies, Teletubbies, say hello!


Now all we need is Tinky Winky’s red bag.



And here it is—also by Fendi.