Farewell, Lauren Bacall

Those eyes; that voice.

Such elegance, such swagger.

Farewell, Miss Bacall.

Vanity Fair's Best Dressed List: Introducing MOHE Etre Une Dame, with Grace

When I read September's Vanity Fair style issue yesterday, I was struck by how self-referential it was.

People profiled in the magazine (St Vincent, for example) were also named to the best-dressed list; style icons cited by best-dressed nominees (Charlotte Rampling, twice), were also featured in other pages.  It seemed just a little too cozy.

I turned my attention, then, to the best-dressed pick of the VF.com editors, who was not wearing one of the usual suspects.  Instead, blogger Claudia Adaszewska was featured in two ladylike, Grace Kelly-inspired dresses.  Both are by the Polish label MOHE Etre Une Dame.

This floral, with a flattering v-bodice is my favourite, keeping in mind it shouldn't cross the aisle into retro. Wear it with Grace . . .

Farewell, Robin Williams

Many of us may remember our first glimpse of Robin Williams via his character Mork from Ork.

I'm pretty sure that my rainbow suspenders circa 1978 were influenced by his TV style.

He was a remarkably versatile actor with an ever-present twinkle in his eye.

Farewell, Mr. Williams.

Gold Rush: Reading The Goldfinch

Last winter, during a day-long snowstorm, I tucked into a bookstore while my daughter danced in two Nutcracker performances and read Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch from cover to cover. 

Well, almost. Elmore Leonard once advised young authors to "leave out the part that readers tend to skip," and Tartt's Las Vegas section fit the bill.  It was more "vomit" than viva (if you read the book, you'll know what I mean), and I just found it, in colloquial language, an extended downer.

But here I am again, having assigned the work for a class, and I'm sitting by a beautiful pool on a lovely day, giving Las Vegas a second try.  If anything, it's even more grim than before, as I'm taking more time with the prose, but am hoping it's a necessary step in this Harry Potter-for-adults-meets-Great Expectations bildungsroman. 

To encourage myself, I present not a goldfinch, but a painting of a woman in a gold dress, by Franz Winter Halter in a bid not to, umm, halt my progress. 

Janet Sartin, Catherine Oxenberg, and the Art of Skin Care

For my daughter's 15th birthday, I took her to Bobbi Brown for her first foray into proper makeup (stage maquillage for ballerinas does not count). 

It reminded me of when I was about 19, in university, and a Janet Sartin counter opened at a fancy Ottawa store.

I had become infatuated with Janet Sartin (who opened her Madison Ave skin-care salon in 1945) via magazine ads that featured Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia and her actress daughter Catherine Oxenberg.

Rightly or wrongly, I thought that I might resemble the celebrity Miss C in the tiniest way and, as I already had a princess complex, wanted what the royals used on their perfect, regal skin.

The author sans makeup, age 19 + 30

Janet Sartin

So I made my way to the counter and bought all the appropriate products, all in their signature yellow packaging. I used this line for years and years.  Did I feel princessy? Maybe.

One of the ads that grabbed my attention

When I moved to New York to work in publishing, I treated myself to a Sartin facial. That was lovely, but what I remember more is leaving the salon and seeing Steven Tyler crossing the road with a young woman. Aerosmith was playing that weekend.

SouthPaw: Burberry Prorsum's Bowler Bag. Plus: Edna or Elsa?

What do you think of the iconic Burberry check? It's easily identifiable, but to my eye it's too obvious. If I'm going for an English check, I'll choose the less-well-known Aquascutum, for one (perhaps because it was my grandmother's favourite).

I was surprised, then, to find myself admiring a pair of Burberry boots that were, at first glimpse, check-less, till I took a closer look. I gazed upon these boots again and again, online, finally braving the crowds to try one on chez Nordstrom (my size was not in stock, though I gamely attempted to fold my 39 foot into a 37).

 But I do like the subleties of the plaid here; it does not overwhelm or scream "Logo!" It simply, quietly, complements.

 The same might be said for Burberry Prorsum's Fall 2014 bowler bag, with its Southwest details (far above). The check is less golden and more in the traditional camel/red/black/white, but it goes almost unnoticed due to the blanket details.

(Another version, sans check, is below. This Burberry Prorsum I've renamed "Bloomsbury, Possums," which is to be uttered a la Dame Edna Everage.)

 P.S. Concern over appearing as Dame Edna has prevented me from wearing my DIY "Elsa Schiaparelli" sunglasses.

And as I open this post with a question, I'll end with one: Are these sunnies Edna or Elsa? Answer, please. Or Else.

Wide Sargasso See: Multicultural Fashion in Selvedge

I just received PDFs of a new feature story I wrote for Selvedge's July/August folklore-themed issue.  It's about multicultural influence in fashion: both when it's appropriate and when it borders on cultural appropriation.

In the process I researched a new (to me) designer--Stella Jean, who incorporates a winning mix of Haitian and Italian influence in her designs.  Her mother is from Haiti; her father is from Italy.  My favourite look is the large red-check blouse worn under a wax-print bustier dress (see below).  I couldn't help but think of Jean Rhys' Wide Sargasso Sea when I first saw it, as its exuberant celebration of native culture and colorful energy recalled, for this reader, a young Bertha Mason.

Clothes by Stella Jean

Clothes by Taka Naka

Clothes by Tata Naka

This clothing, a dialogue between colonial and postcolonial cultures, reminds me of the groundbreaking "Madwoman in the Attic" understanding of Jane Eyre--does Bertha act for Jane; does Bertha express the rage and passion that Jane represses?  In these clothes,where Europe meets Haiti, two cultures stand strong and together.  If we took Mr. Rochester out of the equation, maybe Jane and Bertha could have played dress-up together.

No tearing of wedding veils, though.  But maybe they could share a mantilla?