Take Me Out to the Ball Game

As I mentioned last week, Fabulous Husband and I were invited to go to a baseball game by my parents on Sunday. Several of you gave me wonderful suggestions on what to wear, so even though I don't usually post my weekend outfits, I wanted to show you what I ended up wearing.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that these pictures were taken today: we didn't get a chance yesterday and forgot to grab the camera before we left the house just before 8 a.m. So I put the same outfit back on long enough to get photos for you, Fabulous Readers. No, I don't make a habit of this sort of thing.

Hat, TJMaxx

Denim jacket, Calvin Klein Jeans, Century 21, remixed

Blue-grey tee, gifted

Black lace-trimmed cardigan, Heart Moon Star, remixed

Orange scarf, TJMaxx

Orange bangle bracelet, thrifted, remixed

White and gold woven belt, thrifted, remixed

Light wash jeans (worn rolled), Victoria's Secret

Orange flower sandals, BOC Born Concept "Edith," DSW

We went to see the New York Mets, hence the overwhelming blue-and-orange matchiness.

Our seats were excellent, as promised. Unfortunately, the weather was not: instead of warm and sunny, it was unseasonably cold, overcast and windy.

I spent what part of the game we spent in our seats like this, with one hand stuffed into the kangaroo pocket of Fabulous Husband's sweatshirt, the jeans unrolled (which, with the flower-bedecked shoes and floppy hat, gave me a sweet hippie-chic look), cardigan and jacket buttoned, and my purse balanced on my toes to provide some minor shelter from the wind. I'm super-glad I grabbed that cardigan on a last-minute whim as we dashed out the door!

At my parents' request, we left after the fifth inning - we were all similarly dressed and equally cold. We had a great time, though.

Fabulous Husband and I each put on approximately six sweaters and huddled up under our warmest blankets as soon as we got home.

All this week, I'm going to be dressing my best with the academichics and a whole bunch of other fabulous bloggers. I hadn't intended this outfit to be part of that, necessarily, but I realized as I edited the photos that it fits the theme.

I love my extremities: my arms below the elbow, my legs below the knee. There's absolutely nothing wrong with the rest of my arms and legs, but the lower portions of both are, I feel, particularly shapely, toned, and graceful.

This outfit, with the cuffed sleeves and jeans, emphasizes those parts. The bulky cuffs draw the eye, and the lace trim on the sleeves adds extra emphasis.

I wear a lot of three-quarter sleeves, and I'm loving the comeback of the rolled-cuff blazer. I just wish I could find more bangle bracelets that fit my hands: I love the way they look, but I can't fit most of them over my knuckles. It's not that my hands are that large (they're long but narrow), it's that they don't fold enough to fit through most bangles. So I treasure the bangles I do find that fit.

I also love hats with floppy brims.

Photos: Fabulous Husband

I broke my shopping ban to get those shoes, because I wanted a bright orange super-walkable wedge heel. I'm a little bummed out that I would have been better off in nice warm boots, but I still don't regret it one bit. We were up and down stairs all afternoon, and I didn't have the slightest bit of trouble keeping up (even with my Dad, whose years of race running and being a pedestrian in Manhattan have made him a world-class speed walker, even when he's not trying) or the tiniest bit of foot pain. They might not have been the right shoe to wear yesterday, but I'm sure I'm going to get a huge amount of wear out of them over the next several months. Oh, they are so comfortable - they feel like little foot pillows!

What do you love about your body, and how do you dress to emphasize it?

Special Occasions: Passover (First Night)

This time of year is always pretty exciting for me. To combat the often-dismal weather, there's not only my birthday (today!) but the big family gatherings that come with Passover, the Jewish springtime festival celebrating freedom.

I am exceptionally lucky: both sides of my family are truly awesome. We don't get the stereotypical infighting, cattiness, and awkwardness that make family get-togethers a gold mine for the crueler type of comedy writer. Instead, I get to spend time with my terrific cousins, uncles, and aunts, and enjoy the delicious food that accompanies the holiday.

Jacket: Ann Taylor Loft
Pink layering tee: LnA, remixed
Dress, Liberty of London for Target
Belt, Ann Taylor Loft, remixed
Skirt, Ann Taylor, thrifted, remixed
Pink vertically striped tights, Betsey Johnson, TJMaxx
Boots, John Fluevog, remixed 

Yes, I'll admit it: I stole this look, wholesale, from Sal at Already Pretty. I can't help it! It looked so great on her, I had to try it myself!

I'll also admit that yes, I wore a nightie to a family gathering for a religious occasion. In my defense, though, it's a substantial nightie, and one I layered so aggressively that I would have been fully dressed if I removed it. I thought the print was perfect for a spring festival, and the babydoll silhouette (controlled by the tailored jacket and belt) ideal for what I knew was going to be a meal of epic proportions - seven courses, including three different (flour-free) desserts, plus the requisite four glasses of wine.

Origami fan earrings: Magokoro New York
Carved bone necklace: inherited from my grandmother
Carved orange-and-black necklace: inherited from my great aunt, via my mom

I went a little crazy with color and pattern in this outfit, and I got to wear some really fun, unusual jewelry that's not in regular rotation in my wardrobe.

The earrings are tiny origami fans made from Japanese mulberry paper. I love how they pick up the pattern on the bottom of the dress and weigh almost nothing.

I also was really happy that, for such a family-oriented event, I was able to wear two pieces of jewelry that belonged to women in my family before me. The carved orange necklace is really spectacular. I have no idea of what material it's made, but my mom tells me it's hand-carved. I do know that it's such a dramatic piece that it's difficult to work into outfits. In the past, I've always tried to wear it with something very, very simple, to let it take center stage, and I've never been happy with the results. I think it works much better this way, in concert with a busy pattern that picks up its colors.

photos: Fabulous Husband

Last night's gathering, with my mom's side of the family, was a little on the casual side, so I could get away with the funkiness of the floaty dress over a skirt. The blazer might almost have been a bit too formal, but the cropped sleeves, oversized buttons, and pick-stitching kept it relaxed. Tonight's Seder, with my dad's side of the family, is a bit dressier, so I'll break out something more structured.

Finally, Fabulous Readers, I owe you an apology. I didn't get a chance to get pictures of the outfits I wore to the two Gypsy Nomads concerts last week. As soon as I get a chance, I'll take an afternoon and re-create the looks for your enjoyment!

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Sorry, Fabulous Readers: I won't be posting an outfit today. Instead, I'm hennaing my hair.

I've always wanted red hair. My mom is a stunning redhead, naturally, and growing up, I was always disappointed that I didn't inherit it. Genetics handed me a slightly bum card when it comes to hair color: I didn't get my dad's almost-black shade, either. Instead I ended up with a medium-brownish-blonde color that does nothing for my complexion and makes me look washed out (oddly, it's about the same shade as Fabulous Husband's, but looks splendid on him: he's got much darker eyes and paler skin than I do, though).

So of course, the first thing I did when I went away to school as sixteen was dye it. Red, like my mother's.

I've experimented with other shades over the years - a truly unnatural fire-engine red, jet black, blonde, calico (an ill-advised homebrewed attempt to rid myself of a grown-out black dye job: it could have been worse) - but always returned to red.

However, as anyone who's tried to maintain red hair with ammonia-based dyes knows, red is a remarkably fugitive (i.e., short-lasting) color. Even with massive amounts of conditioner, trying to stay red left my hair dry and damaged, so I started using henna.

Henna is a subtropical flowering plant, Lawsonia inermis:

 

picture via Wikipedia

The dried, ground leaves are used as a dye for skin, hair, leather, and wool: any protein-based material, really. The color is long-lasting and vividly orange-red.

I've been using henna on my hair for several years now, and I'm thrilled with the results. My hairstylist is amazed that I can get a true, vivid, lasting red that not only doesn't damage my hair, but conditions it: my hair is never as glossy, silky, and cooperative as right after I've hennaed it.

The biggest problem with henna is that, for centuries, the term 'henna' was used as a generic term for any hair dye, including ones with ingredients that can cause serious damage to the user's health. For that reason, always be leery of any product calling itself henna that promises a color other than red or contains anything other than L. inermis (although there are other natural dyes, such as indigo, alma, or cassia, that can be used alone or in combination with henna to create different shades. Products containing these other dyes should list them, though, not refer to a mix of dyes as "brown henna," "chestnut henna," or any other variation). Henna powder should be bright green and smell like fresh-mown hay.

The best way to ensure that you're getting good-quality henna without additives (I've encountered henna with green sand added for bulk and color) is to buy it from a reputable supplier. I order mine from Mehandi, but there are several reputable suppliers: a Google search for "Body Art Quality Henna" or "BAQ Henna" should turn up several. Mehandi also has great instructions on how to mix and apply henna to hair. Be warned, though: it's not a quick process. I like to dedicate a day when I have no pressing obligations outside the house to hennaing, because I know that I'm going to be stuck with a plastic-wrap turban covering a headful of greeny-brown mud for at least four hours. That's also why there's no outfit post today: I'm wearing old, disreputable clothes that I don't mind about dye stains on.

Part of the reason that I'm doing this today is that tomorrow, Fabulous Husband and I are going to Pennsylvania for our end-of-winter getaway combined with my birthday celebration. We're going to see the wonderful Gypsy Nomads in concert and be in the audience for their first concert DVD. It's a costumed event, and I've been sewing like mad trying to get The Perfect Outfit together.

I'm bringing my netbook, but I can't promise that I'll be able to find a wireless connection. If not, I'll post lots of photos next week when I come back!

Going Green

Sorry about the dearth of posts yesterday, Fabulous Readers - we had friends who we don't see nearly often enough over for our annual beer, soda bread, corned beef and cabbage, beer, shortbread and whisky festival.

In an area as proud of its Irish heritage as mine is, green for St. Patrick's Day is de rigeur. 

Black drape-front cardigan: Velvet, Marshall's

Olive green rib-knit tank: thrifted

Darker green tank: Ann Taylor Loft

Chartreuse belt: thrifted

Denim mini: Old Navy

Boots: John Fluevog, "Rosabelle"

It was so warm and gorgeous out we were hanging out on the deck for a while!

After a way-too-long and dreary winter, I'm willing to take any chance I can get to spend time outdoors in the sunshine.

This is also my first time wearing glasses with the new haircut. I've only recently become comfortable in glasses again, after years of wearing contacts pretty much exclusively. 

Tiny Celtic knot stud earrings: gift from my cousin

Bronze Byzantine chain (worn as bracelet): Wolfgaard Armory, remixed

Green stone teardrop necklace: Central Asian

Purple-and-green stripey socks: Sock Dreams "Super Stripe Knee Highs"

Despite the matchiness of my majorly-green outfit, I couldn't possibly play it straight with in all green. You can just see the cuffs of these purple socks above my boots.

How do you feel about the tradition of wearing green on St. Patrick's Day? If you participate in it, do you like green from head to toe, just enough to not get pinched, or something in between?

Unexpected

This morning, as my husband and I were debating the merits of getting up and getting coffee or just staying in bed all day (He'd been working all night, and we're mid-snowstorm), we got a call from my father. He had some sad news to share: one of my (moderately distant) relatives had died after a long struggle with cancer.

"The funeral's on Thursday," he said.

"I want to go," I said. We don't see that part of the family that often, but some things - like funerals - are Important.

After he'd hung up, the husband and I had a Dreadful Realization: neither of us owns a simple, conservative black suit in our size any more. I'm just a squidge too broad in the beam for my late-'90s Lower Broadway Web Designer suits still, and as for the husband, well, I'm glad he's not skinny enough to wear a 28" waist anymore, but that's the size to which all his suits (from a similar era of master-of-the-universeship) are tailored.

So guess what we're off to do today?

I'm easy. I'm entirely certain that, for under $100, I'll be able to find a good-quality black suit at either TJ Maxx or Marshalls - maybe, if my shopping karma is truly excellent today, I'll snag a $15 Goodwill special. He's going to be a bit harder. Last time I needed to get a men's suit in a hurry, I had Century 21 and Syms in a two-block radius from my office building. Those days are gone, and for the most part, I don't miss them.

Why is it even important?

Deaths, births, marriages, and comings-of-age are lifecycle events - the rituals that mark an individual's change of status in a society. If I wanted to get very Tibetan Buddhist about it, I'd say that they are between states: transitions from one phase to another. Entire books of social theory have been written on why these ceremonies and rituals are important.

To a large extent, modern European/American society has discarded these rituals, or permuted them into something very different than once they were. Pick up a copy of a bridal magazine (Go on, I dare you! Just make sure you do a warm-up set and put on your weight belt first) or go to an over-the-top suburban bar/bat mitzvah and you'll know what I mean.

Funerals are different. For one thing, our society has gotten very out of touch with death. We stave it off, try to deny its existence, are disturbed by its mere mention. In some ways, it's understandable: modern medicine, sanitation, and nutrition have made death a much less frequent occurrence that happens at greater and greater ages. Generally. Infant mortality has never been so low, nor lifespans so long.

But death does come, and, stave it off though we might, it is inevitable: death is the one common experience all living things share. We're not taught the skill set to deal with it gracefully, though. In a way, that's good: we don't know how to deal with it because we encounter it so seldom. When we do, though, it's awkward. We don't know what to say or how to act.

As always, my answer is sartorial. Enter the conservative black suit.

As funeral wear, the conservative black suit (women have options on trousers or knee-length skirt; men, unless they're very Scottish, should most likely stick to trou) serves multiple purposes. It conveys respect, both for the departed and for their grieving loved ones, and it serves as armor and uniform for the equally-bereaved guest.

Armor and uniform. Those are two important things, in trying times.

Uniform because it frees you from the necessity/obligation of too many decisions, at a time when - quite frankly - clothes may be the last thing on your mind. Also, it provides the comfort of solidarity: you and your fellow mourners are dressed in similar ways, and derive an automatic sense of fellow-feeling and support from it. Even if you weren't particularly close to the deceased, your donning of the uniform of mourning shows the bereaved that you are there for them, participating in their sorrow.

Armor - it is amazing how the right clothes can stand between us and the world, us and our emotions. When a dear friend's father died unexpectedly, she later told me, she instinctively reached for her corset: she needed its steel-boned support as a bulwark. Even garments that are less literally armor-like can provide the sense of security and safety that can be elusive during a time of upheaval and dramatic change.

So, as soon as the snow lets up, we're heading out to look. I'm incredulous that I'm so unprepared: for years, it's been my maxim to always have a dark suit ready to go, in case of emergencies. Birth and marriage you can anticipate.

What do you think? Is my insistence on conservative black suits (with non-shiny accessories, natch) for funerals old-fashioned? How do you dress for unexpected sorrowful events, and how does it affect your mood and behavior?

Thanksgiving's Sartorial Dilemmas

Ah, the holiday season is upon us again: a time for merriment, glee, and bonhomie. A time to see distant relatives, revel over extravagant meals - or, depending on your point of view, the time of year when seasonal affective disorder combines with consumerist hype to ensure that the rest of the year will be a soggy slushball of misery.

For the fashion theorist in the crowd, there's an extra layer of sartorial terror. How to put together outfits for a variety of holiday gatherings that combine style, sufficient comfort, and just the right series of mixed messages (which could include "Why, yes, my career is going smashingly" to your oneupsmanish second cousin at the same time as "Sure, Ma, I'd love to help in the kitchen!")?

Once we get into the winter-solstice holiday round, it gets easier: it's hard to go wrong with something tastefully sparkly in late December. Thanksgiving, though.... Thanksgiving's a real landmine.

For most, it's a holiday devoted to two things: family and food. I am in the very lucky position of having an excellent relationship with both. However, the emphasis on the eating (and, for many of us, preparing) of an extensive meal dictates fashion choices somewhat, as does the presence of seldom-seen relatives. You want to look your best in front of your aunt the business tycoon and the other side's terribly stylish cousins, but there's also all that food to prepare - and eat, and you can't possibly offend anyone by refusing at least a little taste of their signature once-a-year dish. For many of us, there's also significant travel time involved, which means anything that won't stand up to a long car ride or squishing into a carry-on suitcase (who wants to wait for the baggage carousel at this time of year?) gets invited to another party.

Just to give you an idea, here's my outline for tomorrow:
6 a.m.: Whimper as alarm goes off. Roll out of bed, put up water for coffee. While it's boiling, drain the turkey out of the brine it's been sitting in since Monday. Consume coffee, pack self, husband, smoker, hardwood charcoal, a few vegetable dishes in various states of preparation, turkey, and a cheesecake into car.
6.30 a.m.: Drive from our perch in the mid-Hudson valley down into Darkest Suburbia - Westchester County, home of country clubs, malls, and entitled drivers. And my wonderful parents, who are somewhat atypical for the area.
8-ish: Arrive at parents' house. Unload everything. Drink more coffee, this time my mom's cinnamon-scented brew. Get the smoker kicking. For anyone who's never cooked in a smoker, it's a long-term process: the turkey takes a good eight hours to cook. During this time, it'll need plenty of tending - more wood, more charcoal, more water. Husband usually parks himself and a flask of Scotch under the pergola and stays there all morning and much of the afternoon. I flit back and forth, finishing up those vegetable dishes I mentioned earlier and helping Mum out with whatever last-minute stuff needs doing, visiting man and bird in the great outdoors when possible. At some point, someone's got to pick up my bestie, who traditionally spends the holiday with us, from the train station.
4-ish: Everyone who didn't show up super-early to cook starts to arrive. This year we're only a dozen or so: in recent years, there have been more than twenty of us. Appetizers have to be out, wine has to be ready to pour, and the last of the cooking has to happen.
6-ish: The turkey comes out of the smoker, joins its oven-roasted companion inside, and we start the meal proper. In addition to two turkeys, we're having wild rice dressing, at least four vegetable dishes, three types of cranberry relish, pickled grapes, and an untold quorum of desserts - and that's a deliberate effort on all our parts not to make too much food.

Wow, that's a long day. At least it's not supposed to be raining much: in years past, we've tended the smoker through near-freezing rain. However, there's no way to hang out near a smoky fire, outdoors, for eight hours without getting incredibly smoke-scented oneself, not to mention inevitably schmutzy.  There's also no way I'm getting dressed for the family-gathering part of the day at 6 a.m. (an hour I haven't seen much of lately), especially for a full day of turkey-schlepping, fire-tending, veggie roasting, and who knows what else. As a result, I'm most likely rolling out of bed into yoga pants and a disreputable top, and packing a bag with another outfit that I'm willing to be seen in - a simple long-sleeve, knee-length knit dress (stretchy for comfort after lots of turkey! black to hide any wayward gravy!), bright purple tights, and my favorite high-heel boots. Sometime around 3.15, I'll realize in a panic that I'm still in the ratty morning clothes, the family members who always show up super-early will be there in fifteen minutes, and I still smell of smoke. I'll panic, throw on the dress, hope I can get mascara on straight, and try to pass the woodsmoke off as an exotic perfume.

So, a question for you, Fabulous Readers: on a day when everyone's thinking about what's on their plates, what are you thinking about what's on your body? Planning on wearing anything special - or not - tomorrow? How do you deal with the sartorial demands of Thanksgiving?