Boots and skinnies at last!

I've always been a little envious of the girls who can easily tuck their skinny jeans into their boot tops. I have Calves Of Size, and getting calf-high boots to fit over a pair of hose is usually touch-and-go - forget about adding something as bulky as jeans.

However, my beloved Fluevog Inges have a rather wide shaft and hit below the widest part of the calf. So I figured I'd give them a shot with my new, home-pegged skinnies.

Hey, it worked! Although I think I need to tailor in the legs on those jeans a tiny bit more...

Oh, you want to see what else I wore? Oh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that.

Brown rib-knit tank: Old Navy, thrifted

Pink ruched-shoulder tee: velvet, Marshall's

Yellow studded belt: thrifted

Beaded cardigan: Design History, TJMaxx, remixed

Skinnies: Victoria's Secret, pegged by me, remixed

Citrine toggle necklace: street fair vendor at FIT, remixed

Floral scarf (worn in hair): gift from Mom 

The combination of the pink tee and yellow belt was inspired by a neighbor's plantings, a flowering plum tree and forsythia in close proximity. The deep pink and bright yellow were such a visually stunning combination that I wanted to duplicate it. I wish I had a bright green cardigan or jacket to pair with them and complete the nature-inspired color scheme. The purpley-bluey cardigan was definitely more a choice of necessity (darn, it's cold!) than a deliberate addition to the outfit.

However, once I had it on, adding the scarf, with its matching border and highlights of pink in the pattern, was a no-brainer. When I first got my hair cut in this style, Fabulous Reader Dina suggested I try a ponytail with a scarf tied around it, like Audrey Hepburn. My hair is finally long enough to actually put into a stubby little ponytail, so I figured I'd try it - and I like it lots! Thanks, Dina!

Apologies for the blurriness of the photos. Fabulous Husband was unavailable to take pictures of me today, so I was on my own with the camera and the tripod. Jen Kiaba keeps telling me I have to get a camera remote: today's photos prove her right.

Oh, and I keep forgetting to post updates on my shopping ban (or, as Fabulous Husband calls it, moratorium. Fond as I am of Latinate verbiage, I like the final, non-negotiable sound of "ban.") I've been doing a pretty good job of sticking to it. I had one small hitch: a yarn store in my area recently closed, and the prospect of half-price alpaca yarn was a bit more than I could take. As far as I'm concerned, $40 for six skeins of high-quality yarn is an acceptable lapse.

Other than that, though, I haven't bought anything for myself in two weeks - no clothes, no shoes, no jewelry, no raw materials. I'm not saying it's been easy: there have been times when I've been feeling down and wanted desperately to go to Goodwill, TJMaxx, or a local antique store and find something pretty. I'm amazed at how much extra time I have now that I'm keeping myself away from e-tail sites (out of sight, out of mind, right? Or should that be 'site?').

I'm also intrigued by the difference in the way I'm approaching my wardrobe. Because I mostly shop at thrift stores, I've always had a somewhat chaotic, catch-as-catch-can approach to my wardrobe: I find things that appeal to me, then try to find ways to integrate them into my wardrobe. Now that I can't randomly add new pieces, I'm taking a deeper look at what I own and where the holes are. I've already decided that I want more in the way of floaty floral dresses, lace (I am head-over-heels for Queen Michelle's all-lace look),  more yellow, a lime or leaf green cardigan (or jacket), light-colored summer boots, a pair of Kork-Ease wedges... in addition to whatever Fluevogs I end up with, if any, on International Fluevog Day. Which was the inspiration for this ban, anyway.

Where are the holes in your wardrobe? What are its strong points? Are there looks you love, but have trouble figuring out how to make work on your body?

Layering for spring

Ah, spring, when a young woman's heart turns to not having to wear forty-seven million layers and a twenty-pound coat just to leave the house, hallelujah!

Unfortunately for those of us who love the complexity and breadth of options, though, gorgeous sunny weather has its down side: it gets much harder to layer. Even in the depths of summer, unless it's too hot to be tolerated, I'll stack layers of tissue-thin tanks until they're opaque instead of putting on one thicker one, tie scarves around big floppy hats, and pile on jewelry to get enough visual activity in my outfit for my taste.

Minimalism never really took hold with me. Obviously.

This spring, though, I'm playing with a whole new concept in layering: getting dresses involved. Spring's perfect for layered dresses: it's not quite warm enough to wear a sleeveless dress on its own, but the temptation of your just-unpacked summer wardrobe is strong. All those bright colors and breezy silhouettes!

All too often, I've succumbed to that temptation, and been left shivering as soon as the sun went down. I'd like to avoid that in the future, if possible.

There are lots of ways to combine a dress with other layers. One way is to wear it under something of similar length:

Black dress: Ann Taylor Loft, remixed

Purple tunic: Pixie, thrifted

Belt: Aldo, thrifted

Diamond Lace OTK socks: Sock Dreams, remixed

Boots: John Fluevog "Sopranos: Inge," remixed

Tiny purple and gold-tone flower brooch: thrifted

Woven silver bracelet: Anima Perdita, remixed

I've worn this dress with these socks and boots together before: it's amazing how the tunic, as opposed to a skirt layered underneath, changes the overall look.

I had originally grabbed this tunic with the intention of wearing it with a berry-colored tank top and leggings. I'm really happy with the way it works over this dress, though.

It is, on a not-too-technical technicality, too small for me: I don't think there's any way it will ever button across my bust. However, it fails to button moderately gracefully, and the open neckline frames the button placket of the black dress perfectly.

It also kinda matches my shutters.

The boots are beyond awesome. That, ladies and gentleman, is that rare, thought-to-be-mythological creature, the walkable 3" heel. I've tromped all over New York City, my home county, and even a little ways into the woods (provided it's not too muddy) in these. One of these days I'll get around to going to M&J Trimming and getting a selection of colorful ribbons to relace the ankle strap.

And yes, they are the same style that was worn by Alice in Syfy's 2009 Alice in Wonderland miniseries. If I fell down a rabbit hole, they'd definitely be the boots I'd want!

Do you layer dresses, Fabulous Readers? If so, how? Is it a look you like for spring?

Double Dog Dare Denim

I'm not usually the type to do things on a dare. Even as a teenager, peer pressure never had much effect on me.

WendyB got to me, though, with her dare to, essentially, the whole world to wear denim-on-denim looks. When I saw her original post on the subject, I felt a sense of inevitability creep over me. I knew what was going to happen: I'd boldly declare "Head-to-toe denim? What is this, 1986? I think not!" then, six months later, sheepishly find myself prowling thrift stores for the perfect denim shirtdress and hoping no-one would notice.

After I saw her latest post rounding up other fab bloggers in denim-heavy looks, I figured I cut out the  self-denial, hypocrisy, and awkwardness and cut right to the chase.

Jacket: Calvin Klein Jeans, Century 21, remixed

Purple tee: Tahari, TJMaxx, remixed 

Silk hand-dyed tank: Reyen Design Studios

Denim belt: thrifted

Denim mini: Old Navy, remixed

Crescent moon necklace: gift from Fabulous Husband, remixed

Knot pin with purple stones: thrifted

Boots: John Fluevog, "F-Sole: Baby Ruth" (?)

I wasn't entirely happy with this outfit, but the denim wasn't the reason at all. I actually liked the mixture of different washes quite a bit. 

No, the issue with this outfit was purely structural - the skirt and tee rode up (when the tee wasn't catching on the pocket flaps of the skirt), the tank, being shorter than the tee, bunched under the belt, and the belt tried to unbuckle itself at the most inopportune moments. I started out the day with a different purple-stoned pin on the jacket, only to have it take a header when I put my purse strap on my shoulder. 

Oh well. They can't all be winners, right?

Structural issues aside, I ended up much happier with the denim-on-denim combination than I thought I would be. I don't know if I'll ever quite get to the level of wearing jeans and a denim work shirt in combination, but I will be keeping my eye out for just the right denim dress.

Now let's see if I can pull off yarn in my hair!

Work clothes

Alas, I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that any time I announce plans here, I'll somehow fail to get photos to post. Last night, despite heroic efforts on everyone's part, a combination of drastic weather and Fabulous Husband's demanding work schedule prevented us from attending the family gathering as we'd planned.

After a morning spent planting hellebores in the rain, I was chilled to the bone and more than OK with relaxing in warm, comfy clothes at home. It wasn't how I'd planned to spend my birthday, but I can't complain about an evening spent canoodling with my sweetie.

Instead, I have pictures of today's outfit, taken by the ever-talented Jen Kiaba!

Purple twist v-neck: Velvet, Marshalls

Brown layering tee: LnA, thrifted, remixed

Brown bling bow belt: Betsey Johnson, TJMaxx

Jeans: Victoria's Secret, pegged by me

Boots: John Fluevog "The LA: Silverlake

 

Citrine toggle necklace: street fair vendor at FIT

Flower hair clip: homemade

Braided silver bracelet: Anima Perdita
last photo is mine: the rest are Jen's. 

Jen and I are collaborating as a photographer/stylist duo on head shots, engagement portraits, and other photographic work. Today, we were doing a head shot session. I knew I'd be helping to carry equipment and set up shots, but still wanted to show off my chops as a serious Fashionable Person. Thus, these boots. I built the entire outfit around them, from the ground up.

These are my answer to the vertiginous wedge ankle boot: cf. Nubby Twiglet's and Audi's Jeffery Campbell Clinics and Sal's Alice + Olivia for Payless Buckled Booties. As I spend more time blogging, and looking at other wonderful fashion blogs, I'm starting to feel like a bunch of us are working from the same Platonic ideal of a closet. Rather than the cliched rage of a party-goer who finds another attendee is wearing the same dress, I find this cheering and uplifting. Offbeat as my sense of style is, it's shared by some other wonderfully stylish ladies!

Who else is on your style wavelength? Do you like finding commonalities in dress, or do you prefer to be completely original?

The Fabric of Memory

It's really starting to feel like spring around here!

Denim jacket: Calvin Klein Jeans, Century 21

Black button-front dress: Ann Taylor Loft

Lapis necklace: from my grandmother

Blue belt: TJMaxx, remixed

Blue circle-gore ruffled skirt: Marshall's

Diamond Lace OTK socks: Sock Dreams

Boots: John Fluevog "Inge," remixed

 photos: Fabulous Husband

Yes, the belt is a remix, even if it doesn't look like it! I've encountered reversible belts before, and they're usually relatively uninteresting: the swivel mechanism on the buckle flops between black and brown (ho-hum!) and they're sized for men's belt loops. I've always thought that they were the ideal wardrobe item for minimalist male dressers who didn't want to clutter up a closet with (horrors!) more than one belt. This skinny number, though, switches from royal blue to bright yellow. That's a reversible belt I can groove on!

I've worn denim jackets for as long as I can remember: baggy, acid-washed ones as a kid in the 80s; my boyfriend's, covered in martial arts and metal band patches, when I was in college; and this fitted little one that I bought while working on Lower Broadway, a job I lost not that long before September 11, 2001. 

Many articles of clothing can be artifacts of memory and nostalgia, but it seems that jackets, leather and denim ones most of all, remind us of the past. Maybe it's because they're durable pieces, more resistant to wear and thus more likely to stay in our closets longer? Or maybe it's because they're the outermost layer, the thing most likely to be seen and remembered by any passing stranger, literally the mask/costume/armor we present to the world. 

Inner clothing is much more intimate. There are fewer than a hundred people in this world who have seen me in my underwear (and I worked as a figure model, so that number is higher, I suspect, than most), but I cannot begin to contemplate how many people have seen me in this jacket.

Jackets stay in memory. When I was working downtown in Manhattan, I routinely saw one of the traders from the nearby exchanges. The traders were easy to pick out, because they all wore a uniform of lightweight, mesh-sided blazers, usually in navy blue polyester, over their street clothes. This guy was particularly memorable, though, because instead of the standard-issue navy poly, his jacket was bright turquoise with an allover print of rainbow trout. I know nothing else about the man: I never had the courage to ask him about his jacket, have no idea whether he was caught up in the attacks on the World Trade Center, don't even remember the face that went with the jacket. But his jacket is an indelible part of my memory.

It amuses me that every so often designers "rediscover" denim. Denim jackets are quintessential Americana. There are a few other Canonic American Wardrobe Items - the black leather motorcycle jacket, white and black T-shirts, Converse sneakers (the Chuck Taylor All-Star high-tops), medium-wash, button-fly jeans - that, while they're not always "in style," never really go out of style either. I wore Chuck T's in high school, in the era of Air Jordans and Reebok Pumps, and was very much Not Cool because of it. Now all the high-school kids in my area look like they'll part with their Chucks when someone pries them off their cold, dead feet, and David Tennant as Doctor Who has given them an aura of geeky cool. Plus ça change...

I don't know that I'll be sporting the head-to-toe denim look being touted in the glossy mags. I'm not that into any fabric head-to-toe, and really not that fond of denim to wear it thus even if I was. I am, however, glad that it's warm enough to wear this little jacket, with all its memories and history.

What articles of clothing make you remember the past? Do you have any vivid memories of certain pieces - yours or someone else's? And what are your thoughts on designers' 'rediscovery' of denim?

Dialing it in, plus new haircut!

Some days, you don't have the energy to go all out. Those are the days when you dial it in: go for the tried-and-true, the old reliables, the ones that work. The routines you can fall into on autopilot without even thinking. This outfit is one I've worn but not posted before: it's super-comfy while still being stylish.

Trench: French Cuff, TJMaxx
Umbrella: Antique

Cowlneck tunic (ostensibly a dress): Fever, Marshall's

Layering tee: LnA, thrifted

Belt: Ann Taylor Loft

Leggings: Wild Rose, TJMaxx

Stripey socks: Smaller-Footed Super Stripes, Sock Dreams

Boots, John Fluevog, "Mallory"

 

Butterfly bits reversible pendant: estate sale

all photos: Fabulous Husband

I love the top picture: I feel like I'm channeling Audi from Fashion For Nerds (something about the take-no-prisoners pose and mischievous smile). She's definitely one of my inspirations for both style and blogging.

I'm still following along with the academichic Fashion 101 series. This week's theme is belting, a topic dear to my heart (and waist, natch). As an hourglassy girl, I find that belts are great allies in the fight to make sure my waist is visible between my full bust and hips. This outfit is a great example: an Empire-waist (babydoll) top like this tunic can make me look bulky or pregnant if the waistline hits right below the bust. By adding a broad belt, I can contain the fullness of the top, letting the flare of the skirt portion start a few inches lower and preventing any number of questions about my due date.

The pendant, by the way, is really made from the preserved wings of various butterflies (plus one tiny whole one), in a double-sided, brass-rimmed glass frame. I found it at an estate sale and was so intrigued and creeped out by it that I had to own it. Butterflies have long been a symbol for reincarnation and the eternal life of the soul: this little pendant is not only a pretty piece but has overtones of memento mori and Victorian mourning jewelry that I find rather comforting, in that weird way memento mori are.

Part of the reason I felt the need for a dial-it-in outfit was the weather. At least the snow's gone, and it's warm enough outside for a light coat instead of twenty pounds of wool, but it's been rainy, raw and windy for the past few days, and if there's anything that enervates me more than grey skies, it's unceasing wind. What better time for an outfit that feels like I'm pajamas all day long?

The rest of it is that haircut. I got it done on Friday, came home and took scissors to it myself because I managed a complete and utter communication fail with my usually wonderful hairdresser, then spent the weekend in abject misery. I'm only just now starting to come to terms with it, and I miss my old angle bob terribly. I'm still not sure that it works. It is entirely possible that you'll see an amazing upswing in scarves, hats and updos in the next few months - or maybe I'll come to terms with it.

Anyone who advised me against bangs is permitted one "I told you so," in print or in person.

So, Fabulous Readers, a question: I'm getting to the point where I'm featuring items that I've worn before. It's inevitable: my wardrobe isn't that extensive, no matter what Fabulous Husband says. Do you care? More precisely, do you want to know if something's been featured before (via a "remix" label or links to previous posts), or do you not really care? A show of hands would be appreciated.

What do you reach for on the days when you don't want to get dressed and face the world? Have you ever had a haircut you truly hated, and how did you deal with it?

Neutral Ground

Yesterday was one hell of a day - the sort of day where getting out of bed seemed like a bad idea before I even did it.

However, I had things to do, so up and dressed I got.

 

photo taken by my fabulous mom

Black lace cardigan, Heart Moon Star, depths of the drawer

Leopard-print silk tank, Undersilks

Brown layering tee, LnA

Brown tweed skirt, H&M

Grey tights, Calvin Klein, Century 21

Boots, John Fluevog "Inge"

   

Alpaca lace scarf, handknit 

Black woven belt, Ann Taylor Loft

Silver chain bracelet, gift from my parents

High-copper bronze Byzantine choker (worn as bracelet), Wolfgaard Armory

Silver and copper Stegosaurus fossil earrings, American Museum of Natural History

Gold, onyx, and pearl stickpin, depths of the jewelry box 

One of the things on the to-do list was visit my parents, who live an hour south of us. Not only did this mean a delicious dinner of sushi and nigorizake, but I got to take pictures in their beautifully landscaped (and nearly snow-free!) backyard.

With my overall feelings of droopiness and ennui, I didn't feel up to a bright, colorful outfit. Plus, in yesterday's post, I made few bold declarations about mixing metals and the wearability of neutrals in combination. Here's the backup for that bold statement: I'm wearing black, grey, several shades of brown, and cream, as well as a mix of gold, silver, and copper. You'll notice that the colors of the outfit are a mirror of the colors of the late-winter garden.

I love the combination of textures and patterns in this outfit. Nothing pleases the little Victorian in my heart quite so much as tweed and lace, and I think they're even better in combination. The tank is another perfect mixed-register piece: it's got the wild connotations of animal prints on a wonderfully soft, whisper-thin silk jersey knit.

Another thing I realize is that these are the first items from fast-fashion retailers I've worn on this blog. I've got to tell you, both the skirt and the cardigan are items that have been in my posession for quite some time. I think the cardi is one I bought when I was working on my undergrad degree, or just after. 

Even before the recent media uproars about clothing disposal practices, treatment of workers, or intellectual property theft, I was starting to phase stores like H&M and Forever 21 out of my shopping rotation for a wide variety of reasons. Yes, ethics were and are an issue: the argument can be (justifiably) made that any participant in the modern fashion industry is taking place in environmental destruction, exploitation, and a host of other societal nastiness, but retailers who specialize in cheaply-produced, low-quality goods that seem to be designed to do little more than fuel a ceaseless cycle of consumerism and waste (although, as I said above, sometimes items from these retailers can be surprisingly long-lived) strike me as particularly culpable.

However, that was only one contributing factor that prompted me to stop considering fast-fashion retailers as a regular shopping destination. Mostly, I got disappointed with the quality of construction and fit of their clothing. Crooked seams, poor-quality materials, and not-quite-right proportions are not merely endemic to inexpensive fast-fashion chains, they're a hallmark of their products.

I also discovered that inexpensive doesn't have to mean cheap. I can spend less on clothing by shopping at off-price stores like TJMaxx, Marshall's, and (the Mecca, the Shangri-La, the ne plus ultra of the lot) Century 21, or at thrift and consignment stores. My clothing budget goes much further ($4 for a Theory tank instead of $65; $8 for a Diane von Furstenberg halter wrap dress instead of  $225: $7 each for two LnA layering tees instead of $66) and the difference in quality is remarkable.

I consider thrifting to be a hobby, a passion, and something of a lifestyle. Look for more posts in the future about how to attack the confusing welter of a sorted-by-color Goodwill, dressing for thrifting, and brands to look for.

Would you wear an all-neutral look? Do the different shades all work together? What about mixing jewelry metals? What's your take on different tiers of shopping: do you love fast fashion, go mid-market, rock out in designer only, or live to thrift?

Spring has Sprung

The incredibly talented Jen Kiaba and I did an impromptu photo shoot yesterday (hence the strange background, although giant martini glasses are, well, kinda OK by me).

photo courtesy of and copyright by Jen Kiaba Photography

Grey wrap cardigan, BCBG Max Azria, TJMaxx?
Yellow tee, Caslon, stolen from mom's closet
Grey skirt, Ann Taylor, thrifted
Purple tights, Betsey Johnson, TJMaxx
Boots, United Nude "Pocket Hi," Amazon.com
Scarf, purchased in Zell am Zee, Austria
Earrings, chips from Fabulous Husband's first computer

My birthday is in late March, and I've always been fond of crocuses and snowdrops, the early spring flowers that are the only ones reliably in bloom on my birthday. I'm not comfortable wearing white (it doesn't stay white for long on me!), so I don't often echo the green-and-white palette of snowdrops. The yellow and purple of crocuses, a punchy complementary color scheme, is fair game, though!

Both colors look particularly stunning against grey, and shades of grey echo the often dismal skies of a New York early spring.

The boots are one of my few non-Fluevog pairs, from innovative shoemaker United Nude. Their designs are scupltural, architectural, and (sometimes) downright wacky. I couldn't resist these BDU-inspired boots: they have functional pockets, a detail sure to win my heart, and little red tags that read "Remove Before Flight."

Most of the time, my husband's reaction to new shoes is... lukewarm, to say the least, but these got his seal of approval with an "Oh, wow. Those are awesome shoes." They're a little tighter in the calf than I'd like, and the ballistic nylon means they can't be stretched by a shoemaker. Like Fluevogs, though, they're comfortable despite the high heel, and the rubberized fore-sole means plenty of traction in slippery conditions.

And yes, I painted my nails a shade of pale purple to complement this outfit. 

Everywhere I look, people are getting fed up with winter and ready for spring! What are your favorite spring colors, rituals, and clothes?

Back in Black

another Fabulous Husband photo

Black cardigan: Ann Taylor Loft
Henley with little owl pattern and heart-shaped buttons: No Boundaries, thrifted
Woven belt: Ann Taylor Loft
Black denim pencil skirt: Ann Taylor Loft
Tights and black-and-red stripey socks: depths of the drawer
Scarf: Hot Topic
Boots: John Fluevog "Inge"
Woven leather cuff bracelet: Urban Outfitters (?)
Onyx brooch: estate sale

The outfits I've posted so far have been vividly colored, which is pretty atypical for me. This is more my usual speed: black, black, and more black, with little accents of color.

As for the preponderance of Ann Taylor Loft items, I spent a year working there, and as a result built up quite the wardrobe of pieces from the store. I'm glad I'm not working retail fashion any more, and I've become unhappy with the chain's stylistic decisions in the subsequent years, but I learned valuable lessons that year about style, fashion, wardrobe-building, and dressing a wide variety of body types. The thing I miss most about it was helping my customers find smashing outfits for their body types and lifestyles.

One thing that will become quite obvious is that I have a deep, abiding fondness - verging, some might say, on an addiction - for John Fluevog shoes. There are several reasons for that: I love the combination of funky style and comfort - I have several pairs of Fluevog heels, these 3" babies included, that are just as comfy and walkable as a pair of sneakers; the company has a commitment to ethical production and offers quite a few ecologically conscious styles; they stand behind their products fully; and the salespeople are the sweetest,  friendliest, most attentive, and most knowledgeable retail staff I have ever encountered, bar none. Even if you buy online, you'll get a call from someone at a Fluevog store to discuss fit and shipping.

I'm also playing along with the academichics' Fashion 101: Cardigans unit. I own a few cardigans, but I don't really think of them as a wardrobe basic. However, I'm taking this as a style assignment (Me? Miss structured curricula much? Nah!), so expect to see quite a few of them this week as I try to fit the few I have into a daily rotation! My plans for this week include a photo shoot with the incredibly talented Jen Kiaba, a thrifting expedition, and a lunch meeting, so I've got a variety of situations for which to dress.

Do you have a default style - a certain look or combination you know you can always count on? When do you stick to it, and when do you experiment? What about favorite brands - do you have a go-to manufacturer? Are there certain items you're brand-loyal regarding, and others not?

Death Takes a (Golf) Holiday

 

Photo courtesy of the Fabulous Husband

Pink L/S tee, LnA, thrifted
Pink tank, Theory, thrifted
Black skull print tunic, Love Child, TJMaxx
Woven belt, Ann Taylor Loft
Green polka-dot mini, Old Navy
Leggings, Hot Chilis
Boots, John Fluevog "Mallory"

After a week of storms, variously described as "Snowpocalypse" and "Snowmaggeddon" wracked the Northeast, I was sick of bulky sweaters, loose jeans, and other functional items of clothing. So when Saturday brought a break in the weather, I wanted something bright!

I was originally going to wear a more mellow olive-green cargo mini, but due to the extra layer of leggings and my mammalian tendencies to add a bit of, um, insulation in the winter (plus aforementioned snow keeping me from going to the gym) it was a wee bit tight. So I pulled out this bright-green number. It fits well, but I realized I was dressed in that preptastic color combo, green and pink. Eek!

So, of course, I had to punk it up a bit.

 

I took this photo myself!

Shaggy chain, made by me

Heart locket and pendant, depths of my jewelry box

Crescent moon pendant, gift from the Fabulous Husband

Jade drop earrings, Anima Perdita Studios

The skull tunic and a series of chain necklaces of various lengths served nicely. I didn't want to go overboard, so I kept most of the necklaces thin and light, and wore a favorite pair of earrings made by the Fabulous Husband.

I don't know why I'm so attracted to the combination of pink and skulls (I have a few guesses, though): I own several pieces that feature this combination.

The boots didn't show up that well, but have no fear: you'll be seeing them lots in the future. They're one of the more comfortable pairs I own, and I've been living in them this winter. La Historiadora de Moda from Fashionable Academics has them in orange: I wish I did, too!

I also realized that this outfit perfectly fits my yearning for warmer climes. Preppy though it is, the green/pink combo screams warm weather. I could easily lose the leggings and long-sleeved tee and swap the boots for a pair of sandals and wear this outfit in summery weather.

 

My hair has started to frustrate me. For most of my life, it was very long (as in, past my waist): a year and a half ago, I chopped it into a grown-out angle bob. I like it, but I'm getting sick of the long front in my face all the time! So I'm thinking about cutting in big, thick, heart-shaped bangs, with malice, British, and J-rock style aforethought. Worst comes to worst, it looks horrible and I have an excuse to wear smashing hats until the bangs grow back out. What are your thoughts, O Fabulous Readers?

Outside the comfort zone

Fabulous Reader Dina posted:

For nearly a year I've spent almost every.single.day. in sweats/yoga pants and a nursing tank or other form of loungewear. I actually dread having to "get dressed" because even wearing jeans puts me out of my elastic-waisted comfort zone. I need an intervention... badly.

Which got me thinking about comfort zones and clothing.

For one thing, Dina, the fact that you mentioned a nursing tank indicates to me that you're a new mama, a point in life where there are lots of demands being placed on you, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I've never had a child, so I can't really speak from a place of authority, but I believe that new moms have every right to wear whatever they want that makes them feel comfy, because, damn, they're ensuring the future of our species. One of the reasons I haven't had kids yet is that I don't know that I have the strength of character or emotional fortitude to birth and raise a productive member of society.

However, the fact that you're saying you "need an intervention... badly" means that you're not that comfortable in your "comfy" clothes.

As our lives and circumstances change, our comfort zones in terms of clothing do too. That's one of the reasons I go through my closet constantly: one day, I realized that plaid mini-kilts just weren't me any more (OK, not really. I still love me a plaid mini-kilt, preferably worn with knee-high stompy boots).

A lot of things can influence these changes. Sometimes it's dramatic things, like having a child, changing jobs, or relocating to someplace with a totally different climate. Sometimes, it's a more subtle shift: reading an article in a mag or on a blog that gives you a new perspective on a style, seeing an inspiring photo, or even finding a new way to play with color.

Whatever the cause, it can be disconcerting. You can be left with a closet full of clothes you have no interest in wearing, possibly lacking the wherewithal (wear-with-all?) to replace them - even if you knew what you wanted instead, which you might not.

That last bit is the tricky one. Even for those in strained financial circumstances, savvy thrift shopping can provide a wealth of options. If you're feeling adrift in terms of style, though, a thrift store can be an overwhelming mishmash of possibilities and options - a little like going to a diner with a sixteen-page menu when you're starving. There are so many options that you don't know what you want!

Defining (and refining) your personal style is a lifelong, ongoing process, and it's hard to know where to start.

As my yoga teacher says, the intention is the practice. Just by thinking about ways you can find a personalized style that suits you better, you'll start to find ways to do it.

Look for the things you genuinely like in your current wardrobe. Are you drawn to certain cuts, colors, styles? For example, I know that I love full skirts, fitted sweaters, brightly-colored tights, layering tees, and secondary and tertiary colors. Conversely, what's in your wardrobe that you can't stand?

Every time you go shopping, try on one thing that scares you, or that you're sure won't work on you. Maybe you'll be right - or maybe you'll be surprised. I once knew, for instance, that yellow looked horrible on me, and that I hated it. Then one day I tried on a yellow shirt and loved it. Was it the specific shade?  The cut of the top? The phase of the moon? I have no idea, but now I know that I can rock it. Ditto for belts, scarves, short skirts... the list goes on and on. Next on my list of things to try that I'm scared of are skinny jeans and shorts over tights.

As for finding a way back into style comfort for Dina, how about one of my favorite combinations for chic comfort: a jersey dress, leggings, belt and boots?  Nobody ever said you have to wear tailored, structured items to be "dressed:" maybe stay in easy-to-wear jersey pieces, but change silhouettes or colors.

comfy mama by fashiontheory

I wear variations on this outfit all the time. It's all stretchy, easy-to-wear fabrics (even the boots are jersey!), ideal for chasing around a wee one. The leggings provide more coverage and modesty than a dress with tights would. A belt gives definition to the waist and breaks up the visual line of the dress, while a colorful henley underneath adds contrast (and an extra bit of warmth!).

The bold colors are my favorite part, though: they make a simple outfit look much more deliberate and "styled." For those of you into color theory, this is a variant on an analogous color scheme. Analogous colors are pleasing to the eye and pretty common in nature - think about a vivid sunset or autumn leaves - but don't seem to be the first thing that comes to mind for many people when it comes to clothing color combinations. That's a shame, because they really do look smashing.

That's just one option: there are lots more out there. Check out style blogs for ideas, starting with academichic. Blogger E. had a baby this past summer, and has been figuring out ways to look stylish and be comfortable ever since. 

What about you, Fabulous Readers? Do you have a defined "comfort zone" in terms of style? Are you happy there, or itching to break out? Do you push the envelope, or stick with the tried and true? If you have redefined your comfort zone, what inspired the change?

I hate black trousers

I really do. I loathe them with every fiber of my being.

Why?

The reasons are manifold and complex. For one thing, I resent anything so widely toted as a "fashion basic." I haven't owned a pair of black trousers in ages, but my wardrobe has taken me confidently from corporate boardrooms to dinners out to fancy events to dive bars just fine, thank you very much. I also, unsurprisingly, lack a plain white buttondown shirt, a white tee (although those might be more properly attributed to my tendency, when confronted with a white top, to immediately spill something vividly-colored and staining on it. A model of grace and decorum I am... sporadically), and a pair of black ballet flats (or any flats, really. I find them less comfortable than heels. Honestly!). Many popular "fashion basics" are good building blocks, but I've got enough of an anti-authoritarian streak to look for other alternatives when somebody tells me my life - or my wardrobe - won't be complete without something.

Second is that trousers, in general, are unflattering to the female form. Most women I know have problems finding a pair of trousers that fits them well: if they're not gaping at the back waist, they're whiskering at the crotch, or, worse yet, inflicting a case of the dread polterwang, pulling across the thighs, or hitting at just the wrong spot on the ankle. Or dragging on the ground because they're hemmed for heels and you decided you'd give those insidious, comfort-promising (but actually denying) ballet flats a go. I understand that bifurcated nether garments have a place in a woman's wardrobe. My few pair usually come out in the depth of  winter, when my usual tricks of wool tights, silk longhandles, and leggings under my skirts fail to combat freezing temperatures and invasive winds (eek!). I also, oddly, have made peace with a few pair of jeans, crops (especially ones that hit at just the right point on the calf to show off badass boots), and pantalettes/bloomers (although those get layered under skirts so kind of don't count). However, in general, the complex curves of a woman's lower half are ill-served by mass-produced garments, especially such fit-critical ones with so little to distract the eye from imperfections (in the trousers, silly, not you!). Heck, I'm even fond of trouser alternatives for guys (my husband lives in a kilt all summer and he - and I - could not be happier).

My real beef with black trousers, though, is their blandness. They offend me for the same reasons and in the same way that beige walls and unseasoned farina do: they're dead boring. A really fabulous top, pair of shoes, or accessories can salvage a back-trousers-based outfit, but they're working uphill all the way. Nothing says "I just couldn't be bothered" quite like the stereotypical office-drone uniform of black trousers and a solid-colored blouse or knit top. Actually, most uniforms I've seen have more visual interest.

We live in an era of unprecedented choice and diversity in fashion. Why, then, have so many women wedded themselves to the blandest of the bland?

Let's look at a few examples, shall we?

I hate black trou 1 by fashiontheory

Here we have a rather adorable, snuggly-looking cowlneck sweater in a bright shade of lemon yellow - the perfect thing to chase away winter doldrums. However, once you pair it with standard-issue black bootleg trousers, there's really not very many places you can go with it: throw on a belt to give your waist some shape and a head out the door. You can't even see the cute, punky strap-and-stud details on your boots!

On the other hand, put on a bluish-purple pencil skirt, and you have a lot more options. The blue scrunch boots would fight with the trouser legs both in color and cut, and wearing a skirt lets you put on raspberry tights.

See how much more vivid the sweater looks paired with the bluish-purple and pink? That's because the colors are in a triadic relationship (That's not nearly as risque as it sounds. Promise). My knowledge of color theory is almost entirely hands-on, so I can't really give you as much how-and-why as I'd like about how it works, but there are several fixed relationships across the color spectrum that result in eye-pleasing combinations: triads are one. Others are complements, tetrads, analogues, and accented analogues. This tool is a great way to get a feel for the way color relationships work, as well as waste quite a few hours (you've been warned).

On to example two!

I hate black trou 2 by fashiontheory

Now, using that nifty color wheel tool, you've figured out that the best colors to wear with your medium-blue cardigan are purple and turquoise. However, the eye has a long, boring way to travel to unite your colorful pumps - again, mostly hidden by the trouser cuffs - with the rest of the outfit. Swap out the trou for a navy dress, though, and add a pair of purple tights, and you've bridged that gap - plus added a color that has a tonal, or monochromatic, relationship to the original blue.

Let's say you want to wear that other wardrobe basic, the white buttondown shirt:

I hate trou 3 by fashiontheory

Even with the admittedly fabulous bittersweet necklace and turquoise belt, the white shirt and black trousers combination is... well, it's a bit staid, isn't it? By changing the black trousers out for a yellow polka-dot skirt (color and pattern, egad!) there's a lot more life to it, especially with the tomato-colored tights.

But Theorist, I hear you beg, what's with all the colors? I've met you, and you're pretty darn Gothy. I prefer, shall we say, more somber colors myself. If the great majority of my ensemble is black, are the black trou really going to make a difference?

Part of the reason I'm featuring so much in the way of vivid color is the medium: black on black really doesn't show up well on the projected light of a monitor. Another part is that, as I mentioned in my last post, this time of year invokes a moderately uncharacteristic yearning for color. This is also the time of year when I start stalking my crocus patch and saying to my long-suffering husband things like "So... how about we repaint the dining room turquoise? With green trim?"

But the black trousers really don't add anything to a work-appropriate gothalicious outfit, either:

I hate black trou 4 by fashiontheory

Compare these two outfits, both based around an All Saints blouse (I adore All Saints, and if I save my pennies and am a very, very good little Theorist, may someday have one of their gorgeous asymmetrical dresses for my very own). Make your own judgments here, of course, but I think the version with the trumpet skirt, red tights, and chain-draped booties is much more visually interesting, as well as liable to be more figure-flattering to a majority of women.

I guess what it comes down to, for me, is that black trousers are a sartorially safe choice. Like the aforementioned beige walls and unadorned farina, there's nothing in there to upset anyone. If there's one thing I would like to inspire you, my Fabulous Readers to do, it is to dress bravely. I don't mean runway-fashion bravely, or over-the-top-costume bravely: choose simple, quiet acts of bravery in your daily dress choices.


That's a whole 'nother post all on its own, though. Until then, I want to hear your thoughts. Am I off base about the black trou? Are they really a vital part of a woman's wardrobe? Do you love yours to death, and own a dozen pair? Could you go a week without wearing a pair (assuming you work in an office/professional environment)? How about a month? Is my mad passion for skirts getting out of hand?

Tangent: Cleaning Out Closets

Writer's block has me in its foul clutches, so the promised post on the fashion system's on hold for a bit until I can get it to sound right.

In the meantime, it's a perfect time of year to clean out the closet. If you're anything like me, you've accumulated a wardrobe of... stuff... a large portion of which you're just not that interested in wearing for one reason or another. There's no reason to burden yourself with clothing you don't like, don't wear, and don't need.

A lot of people are advocates of the wardrobe blitzkrieg: empty your closet onto the bed (or maybe the floor) and sort it into keep/toss/undecided piles, then evaluate from there. While that's a great method, it's got a few drawbacks.

For one thing, if you have even a slightly oversized wardrobe (and if you didn't, would you feel the need to do this?) it's a huge commitment in terms of time, space, and energy. You have to dedicate a whole day, or at least a good chunk of one, to the project. Laying out an entire wardrobe can take up a huge amount of space (although that might be part of the point, to help you realize just how much unnecessary dreck you have) that may be unavailable in a small or cluttered home. Taking all your clothes off hangers and out of drawers sounds like a huge amount of wasted effort.

For another, by sorting through your entire wardrobe in one day, you're subject to that day's vagaries. If you're feeling a bit bloated or down on yourself, you might weed out items that you'll regret later; if you're in a super-optimistic mood or feeling thin and sassy, you'll keep items that really should go. Since you can't stop midway through (with clothes strewn on every horizontal surface in the house), if you run out of steam, you'll reach what I like to call the fuck-it point, where you throw up your hands in frustration and either bag up everything you haven't yet sorted and take it to Goodwill or concede defeat and stuff it all back into the closet. Neither is good. You should never feel defeated by your wardrobe.

Also, by pulling everything out of the closet, you destroy the patterns of wear and use that have accumulated as you find your day-to-day wardrobe. Those patterns are important clues as to what items really belong in your wardrobe and what should find a new home.

You most likely have a few favorite articles of clothing that really are the workhorses of your wardrobe. Chances are they seldom see the inside of the closet: they get worn, washed, and grabbed directly from the clean hamper to get worn again. Make a little pile of these items, and pay attention to the colors, cuts, and style of them. This is the core of your wardrobe. Just about everything else you own should be wearable with these pieces. Anything that doesn't is a good candidate for elimination.

Now that you've found the items that are so hot they never hit storage, go to your closet and dresser. Open them up. Unless you make a conscious effort to keep your wardrobe organized by some scheme (such as color), chances are good that the items you pull out most often are front and center. Take each item out one at a time and give it a good hard look. How many pieces from your favorites pile does it go with? When was the last time you wore it? Do you like the way it fits? If the answers are "most," "recently," and "yes," put it back. If not, start a pile for discards.

Now you're getting into the hairy part: the clothes that have been pushed to the back and sides of the closet and drawers from misuse. These fall into three generalized categories:

1. Special occasion clothes: suits for interviews and funerals, formal or party clothes, costumes.
2. Clothes with sentimental value that you can't bear to part with, but will never wear again.
3. The dross of your wardrobe: all the stuff you don't wear.

Take all the items from category 2 out of the closet and put them aside. They're no longer clothes: they're memorabilia. You don't have to rid yourself of them, but you should find a new home or purpose for them. Your old concert tees could get framed and hung on the wall in the den, or maybe made into a throw for the couch. The top you wore on your first date with your spouse should be put in a storage bin, maybe with other mementos of your courtship.

Items from category 1 get something of a pass. Get rid of ill-fitting or unflattering items, or those that are so out of style that you'll never wear them again. However, special-occasion clothes are, by their very nature, seldom worn, often expensive, and hard to replace on very short notice. If you have a spare closet or room for a clothes rack in your attic, put these there in garment bags or muslin covers to prevent dust and vermin damage. However, if next time you have the right sort of event and leave that stuff in storage in preference for a new purchase, it's time for it to go.

Items from category 3 are the meat of the task. You don't wear these clothes that much, but for some reason, you haven't gotten rid of them. Why? Try them on. Do they work with other items you know you're going to wear? Are they unflattering or uncomfortable? Were they astonishingly expensive or, conversely, such a steal that you can't bear to give them up?

A little Buddhist perspective helps here: divorce yourself from the fruits of your shopping. It doesn't matter how much you spent to get it if you don't wear it. Designer labels mean nothing if the item doesn't fit and flatter you. If you haven't worn it in the past year, have put it on and taken it off before leaving the house more than three times, or just don't like it anymore, put it in the discard pile.

There are, of course, exceptions. If you've taken a longish hiatus from the corporate world to work on the Great American Novel/to release your first solo album/not by choice, and plan to go back soonish, keep your businessy clothes, even if you aren't wearing them much right now. On the other hand, if you have fled the corporate world screaming and are now raising alpacas/being a full-time mom/painting nudes in Tahiti and never plan to go back, maybe they can go.

Need I say that I'm assuming that all of this assumes that the clothes in question fit you and are flattering? If a sweater makes you feel paunchy every time you wear it, a pair of trousers is three sizes too big or fits like sausage casings (unless you are actively losing or gaining weight - not "I'll get to the gym one of these days" but "My waist is an inch smaller than it was last month"), or a blouse makes you worry about falling out of the neckline of every time you bend over, out it goes. Yes, some things can and should be tailored: learn what's worth it and what isn't. A well-made pair of trousers or skirt that needs taking up at the hem should go to the tailor: a blazer that needs to be remade a size smaller should go to Goodwill. Don't bother having anything from inexpensive retailers like H&M altered.

You don't have to do this all in one go, and it's perhaps best if you don't. Your favorite items should be easy to identify: evaluate the rest in relation to them. Keep a box or bag for discards near where you get dressed: if you put something on and hate the way it fits or feel uncomfortable - or even less than smashing - in it, toss it in the box. If you don't go digging in the box in the next two months or so to get it back, you can live without it. The same thing goes for the things that never come out of the closet: if it's an everyday item of clothing and you haven't pulled it out in two or three months, you most likely won't ever.

If you're honest with yourself and pay attention to what you wear and what you don't, chances are good you'll end up with a decent-sized pile of discards. What to do with them?

• Things in good condition should be resold or donated. Use theThriftShopper.com to find a thrift store in your area, or check the phone book. Call first and ask what their donation or consignment policies are: some stores only take in-season merchandise, while others accept anything at any time.
  
• If you have the time and determination, good-quality items can be sold on eBay or other auction sites.
  
• A nearly-new piece of clothing that isn't your style, but is just the sort of thing that a girlfriend or female relative would love (and, natch, is the right size) can be a nice giftie, either for a holiday or just because.
• If you're inclined to craftiness, hit a site like Craftster for inspiration on ways to make the unwearable parts of your wardrobe into wearable ones.
  
• Anything that's old, ratty, or worn to the point that you'd be ashamed to donate to a thrift store can be donated to your local animal shelter.
  

There's something immensely satisfying about taking a big bagful of clothing over to the nearest thrift store: it's liberating to get rid of all that extra dead weight in the wardrobe. Once you've figured out what you don't need, it's much easier to figure out what you do - but that is another post for another time.