Boots for Funky Friday

Thanks to my new internet friend materfamilias, and her weekly My Shoes Wednesday feature, I've become enchanted with John Fluevog shoes. They are funky, whimsical, maybe just a little bit bratty (in a good way) and seem to be designed for the woman who knows her own mind.

These boots for example, are perfect for stomping away in a huff from the coffeehouse where your date has just declared that he always votes Republican, and thinks "Newt Gingrich is making a lot of sense these days."

The Mother of Re-Invention

picture from http://www.costumes.org/

It starts when we're very little girls. Someone reads Cinderella to us, and we are told that as her clothes and shoes and coach are transformed, so is her life transformed. The seeds are planted for our belief in the Magic of the Makeover.

From Cinderella to the Ugly Duckling to Sabrina to Pretty Woman to My Big Fat Greek Wedding to Oprah to Extreme Makeover, stories abound of a physical or sartorial transformation that accompanies or is even a springboard to a new and shiny life. Our culture loves a makeover. We wait breathlessly for the unveiling, "It's a new me!" Except that often inside it isn't. As my friend Becky used to say, "no matter where you go, there you are!"

For a good part of my childhood, I awaited transformation. At 8 years old, I was certain that once I was older/thinner/had longer hair that my golden life would finally begin. And then I grew up and kept waiting...waiting to get thinner, waiting to make more money, waiting to become the stylish, sophisticated woman I knew I wanted to be, that golden life still just over the horizon.

The Sartorialist in his Kara post from August 28 (can't seem to link to it directly), talking about transformation says:

"I bet if you ask most people what keeps them from being who they really want to be (at least stylistically or maybe even more), the answer would not be money but the fear of peer pressure - fear of embarrassing themselves in front of a group of people that they might not actually even like anyway.

If you were really honest with yourself and really wanted to change your style what is keeping you from doing that? Is it really the cost? Is it really your psychical shape? availability of goods? Or is it not fitting in at your office, or PTA, or skateboard park?"

I don't know that I agree totally with that. Peer and family expectations do play a part, but during the times of my life that were most ripe for reinvention (the three times I've picked up and moved to a new city), money was the biggest factor preventing it. The second was my size/shape. But even today, when the money is easier, and I'm able to find clothing in a wider range of styles that fits me, my sense of self more than anything probably limits my ability to re-invent my look. Or I should say, my sense of Selves, ever thwarting my desire to develop a single, cohesive, defining style. There's my nerdy self, my aging hippie self, my Corporate Busnoid self, my chic-and-sophisticated-wannabe self, and my practical self. My closet is a mishmash of styles, a result of these different selves being predominant from month-to-month or even day-to-day. A garment that feels like "me" one week, may feel foreign and forced the next.

Perhaps because my style icons have always been so far removed from my body type, my era, and now--often--my age, it's been difficult for me to have some realistic style goals. I've met very few women IRL whose style I'd want to emulate. The styles that really inspire me are more often costumes (Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, Juliette Binoche in Chocolat) than real-life dressing. Perhaps I just need to give freer rein to my closet Drama Queen.

The idea of makeover = total life transformation also holds little sway these days. I have enough years under my belt to know that most of what makes one's life worthwhile comes from the inside. I've managed to carve out a pretty darn good life for myself, and I'm not looking to trade it in. Doesn't stop me from fantasizing about renting a stylist, though.

Leopard Print a Go-Go

Une femme is beginning to suspect that she and Miss Janey of HATtastic may indeed be sisters separated at birth.

















Une femme has rarely met a leopard print she didn't like. But only one at a time, s'il vous plait.

Plumcake Speak Truth

I wanted to stand up and cheer when I read this:

Listen. I’m not going to tell you what to do with your lady parts. I figure you grew ‘em, you can manage ‘em, but if there’s one bit of wisdom that I can impart it’s this: you cannot screw your way to self-worth. We’re always going to be told we’re not good enough. Either because we’re fat or because we’re women or because we just live in a culture where –at least at the time of writing– being a marketing executive is not punishable by death.

Go read the rest here.

Casualties

The Land of LA is notorious for being the Capitol of Casual, at least as far as major US urban areas go. It's not hard to feel overdressed in this town, unless you're walking a red carpet (and even then only provided the paparazzi actually know who you are). The almost compulsory dressing down goes hand-in-hand with the zeitgeist of Cool, and here the worst faux pas is being perceived as Trying Too Hard. This, understandably, makes une femme absolutely nuts. Am I the only person in LA who actually enjoys dressing up on occasion?

One would presume--in West LA anyway--that the dress code for women seems to dictate that one should always look as if one is just going to or returning from yoga class. Men seem to be required to wear baseball caps and flip-flops. Up until recently, Uggs were overwhelmingly the footwear of choice. Job applicants show up for interviews with bare midriffs and muffin tops, and I've seen people dining at Crustacean in t-shirts that should have hit the rag bin five years hence.

Somewhat serendipitously, as I was beginning to ponder this cacaphony of casual wear, I stumbled across an article in September Vogue entitled "The Sloppy Syndrome." The author, Jean Hanff Korelitz writes, "I have always had a very uneasy relationship with the idea of elegance. Nice clothes were fine, but you didn't want to look as if you were trying too hard or cared that much. I could never seem to get dressed up without feeling compelled to mess up my hair or skip the stockings, just to take the edge off. When it came to heels, I always chickened out just before I left the house and swapped them for something that wouldn't look so...forced."


She goes on to explore some of the cultural and generational differences in attitudes toward dressing up, "Women of my mother's vintage have always been well turned out, from their smocked girlhood dresses to their teen cashmere sweater sets to the professional clothes they wore as they entered the brave new post-Betty Friedan workplace....Being elegant, looking mature--these were not problematic for them." She wonders if in our youth-worshipping, individualistic culture, looking too put-together signals identification with having achieved a certain age or whether it goes back to a fear of looking like we care what others think, and wanting to avoid the risk of not passing muster.

Either way, Angelenos have taken this sartorial attitude to extremes. But recently I've seen signs that this tide may be turning a bit. Saturday night we finally got in for dinner at Fraiche and I was delighted and surprised to see that the majority of other diners there actually Dressed Up, at least by LA standards. Granted, most of the clientele were themselves d'un certain age, but even some of the younger patrons had put on a dress and heels, and actually seemed to have washed their hair. I'm hopeful this isn't either a passing fad or a sign of the Apocalypse, because for a city with so many "beautiful people," I've never seen so many shlubs.

More Lovely Greys

No, not on une femme's head. When it comes to hair color, my motto is "Better Living Through Chemistry," though if my shade of grey were a nice silver instead of a faded dishwater, I'd go au naturel in a heartbeat.


I'm speaking (again!) of this fall's grey pallettes. If you love this neutral as much as I do (it looks softer around the face than black, and can be paired with just about any other color), it's a great time to take advantage of the popularity of grey to stock up. Right now greys and pewters are everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.






Chico's jacket. (This looks SO much better in person than in their photo, you'll have to trust me on this one. It's a lovely crinkly metallic pewter jean-style jacket. And machine washable!)













jjill 3/4 sleeve tee in Pewter. (This is actually quite flattering, again machine washable.)









Here you get two trends (grey and patent leather) for the price of one: MICHAEL Michael Kors shoes. (NOT machine washable, I'm pretty certain.)





NYDJ Jeans in Charcoal. (LOVE this brand! Again, these look better on than in the picture. Yes, machine washable too.)

Classiques Entier Portrait Collar sweater from Nordstrom.com. (Very soft to the touch and such a flattering neckline! Sorry, this one is Dry Clean Only. And yes, the model needs a better hair stylist.)



And to accent that lovely grey ensemble? How about a pop of fall color, like this Bungalow Bag in Yam from Hayden-Harnett?

How High the Moon?

Is it une femme's imagination, or are shoe designers these days embracing ever more psychotic heel heights? And I'm not just talking about those wacky Balenciagas, but the shoes intended for work and play for those of us whose last name is not Beckham.


Take for example, the new lace-up oxford shoes, which this femme is highly enamored of. Too Fat For Fashion recently posted about this trend, showcasing several versions at different price ranges. Lovely, n'est-ce pas?

But wait, what's wrong with this picture??? I only see one pair with a heel that looks to be less than 3", and several that at first glance appear to be 4" at least. Who can walk in these??? Especially if one's foot is on the small side, the heel height can almost equal the length of the shoe. It used to be that 4" heels were reserved for ladies night out, or ladies of the night. Now it would seem we're expected to wear them to the office, to coffee, to walk the dog.

We currently are living in a world of heel extremes, either totally flat or skyscraper height. Has the 2" heel been relegated to the scrap heap of footwear fashion, considered now as dowdy as your Grandmother's Easy Spirit pumps? Will saner heads prevail at some point? Can anyone help une femme find an oxford-style shoe with less than a 3" heel???

More Rules to Live By

I seem to have come late to the party, but Icing's got it covered pretty well, I think.

h/t (bien sur!) to Miss Janey at HATtastic.

A Bad Influence?

Meg over at Faking Good Breeding has an interesting post up this week about whether fashion and beauty blogs are contributing to the normalization of stratospheric luxury goods prices and facilitating overspending. Meg says:

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about recent articles in the New York Times and Wall Street Journal that discussed a recent increase in demand for designer goods, even as prices of luxury items continue to rise. The articles discussed a tendency among buyers to justify buying high-priced items when a product is inexpensive compared to others around it (a $300 shoe looks cheap when next to a $1200 pair).

The same thing tends to occur within social circles- when all your friends casually talk about dropping hundreds of dollars on a new Coach bag, you start to wonder whether you're cheap for buying discount, or you start telling yourself that you "deserve" better.

She has a point. It's easy to get caught up in the "feeding frenzy" when it starts to seem like everyone but you has a few pairs of Louboutin's in their closet, or Balenciaga bags in every color of the rainbow. [Edited to add: by "everyone," I mean "everyone on the web." No one in my social circle and only one person in my family would recognize a Louboutin or most other luxury goods.] Back in the early 80's when I was just starting out in the work world and barely making enough to afford a cup of takeout hot-and-sour soup for lunch, I would see women who (I presumed) were successful and/or monied carrying their Louis Vuitton logo bags. Even though at the time I didn't think the bags were all that attractive, that logo design did come to represent status and a certain level of success for me. So a few years ago when I got my first actual bonus, I put some of it aside and bought an LV logo tote, and two more bags over the next year or so. But after a couple of years I came to realize that for the most part these bags just weren't my style, plus I felt like they have become so frequently faked and otherwise so ubiquitous that carrying one felt somehow like being part of the Borg collective (resistance is futile..you will be assimilated), and I sold them (though I still have one simple Damier canvas bag that hasn't lost it's allure).

Even though I'm now able to afford a nice bag or pair of shoes (though still would probably blanch at spending in the Louboutin price range) it still irks me when a fashion writer in a newspaper, magazine or blog describes an item that costs hundreds of dollars as "a steal" or the "affordable alternative" to a hot designer item. On what freaking planet is $600 "inexpensive"??? I've also come to realize that while I like having nice things as much as the next femme, with kid and dogs and a car that only gets washed every couple of months, I just can't justify spending over a certain amount, or constantly worry about ruining my nice new whatever. When I do splurge on something expensive (by my standards), it's got to be timeless or unique or both.

And with prices for luxury and designer goods seeming to continue to increase exponentially, it's driven home the point that wanting to feel like part of the In Crowd by carrying the latest "It" bag (or something known to be expensive and elusive, like an Hermés Birkin) is a futile endeavor. The whole raison d'etre of "status" items is that not everyone can acquire them, so it's probably a logical reaction to every woman at the mall carrying a Louis Vuitton Speedy causing designers to continuously bump up their prices, and those who can afford it, to pay them. And no matter how much better quality a designer item might be than what you'd get at JC Penney's, the truth is when you buy high-end designer goods, a significant chunk of that money is for the name recognition.

Which is all just a long-winded way of getting to why I don't really blog about couture or designers or $3000 handbags or what the Celebutante/Jailbird-du-jour is wearing this week. That realm of self-adornment is un peu outside of my experience, and Keeping Up With the Olsens/Lohans/Hiltons isn't my thing. I'd rather look at style from the perspective of les femmes who are out there trying to live their lives with a little panache, while still trying to save for retirement.

Suiting Up for the Game

It's official: menswear-inspired suiting is officially Hot For Fall ™, though to my way of thinking, that look never goes totally out of style.








Rosiland Russell and Katherine Hepburn in the 40's made it glamorous,

and in the 80's Diane Keaton as Annie Hall, and Annie Lennox as Annie Lennox resurrected the look as quirky and androgynous.

While some style writers and consumers find menswear-inspired suiting a boring and reworked trend, as une femme who lives and works in the real world I'm glad to see this look making a comeback. Here's why:

1. A well-designed tailored suit is surprisingly versatile. It can provide a simple canvas that can be accessorized to dress up or down, and paired with on-trend accessories for a more fashionable look or classic accoutrements if the situation requires. A classically styled suit can still look current or even edgy, depending on what you wear with it. Pair the pants or skirt with a leather jacket and boots, or the jacket with jeans to multiply your options and personalize the look.



2. Two or three suits in the closet can save a lot of what-to-wear-to-work-today? morning agonizing. You can look put-together without a lot of effort.



3. Yes it's cliché, but a classic pants suit can be worn for years without looking dated. Just keep the accessories either current or classic.

Even though my office has tumbled headfirst down the "Business Casual" rabbit hole, I will probably be re-incorporating (no pun intended) some suits back into my work wardrobe. If you're of a mind to invest in some suiting, there are some nice options out there now:

Talbots (remember to think outside the box, mes petites. Skip the button down shirt and pair with a silky t-shirt and chunky necklace.)

Banana Republic. (Simple is always good too.)



and if you're Mad for Glen Plaid, a couple of nice Tahari suits from Nordstrom.com

Postcards from the Faultline

Oui, it's a dive, but it's an institution. For your basic greaseburger, fries and a cold one, there is none better. For additional atmosphere, you can dine outside where you will have very friendly bees swarming around your plate while you eat.

Cheeseburger at the Epicenter.

Baby Needs New Shoes

Une femme admits to harboring an affection for stodgy equestrian-themed accessories, having spent a good part of her childhood cantering along the bridle path, sometimes even on horseback. Here's the equine equivalent of new Gucci loafers.

The Village Smithy's truck

Fashion Forecast: Silver metallic remains Hot for fall.

Being a horse means always getting a custom fit.

Pedicure included.

Finishing touches.

Road Trip!!!

Une femme is hitting the asphalt with her human and canine entourage to visit family and friends over the next few days. Posting and comment moderation will be at the mercy of the WiFi Deities. Au revoir!

Let Me Take You To...FunkyTOWWWN

There's a fine line between 70's-vintage-vibe-funkadelic-Tower-of-Power-concert-with-your-friends-cool shoes, and 70's-vintage-vibe-fern-bar-what's-your-sign-BeeGees-on-the-8-track-smarmy shoes. I haven't yet decided on which side of the line these shoes reside.

Flattery Will Get You Everywhere...Almost

Having spent years being utterly convinced of my own style ineptitude, and possessing an annoying tendency to not trust my own judgement, I've often been a sucker for those What to Wear/What NOT to Wear/How to Wear It/When to Wear It/Don't Even THINK About Wearing It books. While I've developed a lot more confidence in knowing what does and doesn't work for me in recent years, I still enjoy perusing these occasionally to see what The Experts are pushing this decade. Most of these books spend much print real estate addressing what is most flattering for various body types (which often tends to coincide with what ever styles the Fashion Juggernaut was pushing when the book was published).

Looking back through some of the books I've collected over the years got me to thinking about how we define "flattering."

Probably 95% of that definition is "that which makes the wearer appear closest to the cultural ideal," which for the majority of us means that which makes us appear thinner, taller and younger. But especially thinner. What's interesting is even if you accept that narrow "thinner and taller" definition, there's a wide variety of advice out there for achieving it. One book says to hide a thick waist, skim the body with a tunic and emphasize the legs. Another advises to wear nipped in jackets to create the illusion of a waist. For years we were told that busty, curvy women should avoid empire waist tops as they give the impression of being, well...knocked up. Now, we're being told that because empire waist garments are most fitted at the narrowest part of the body they are flattering to our curves. (I still don't buy it; even if I can find an empire waist top where the "waist" doesn't land right below mid-boob, they still make me look preggers.) When it comes to color, one expert says that jewel tones are always classic, while another says they look dowdy and will age you. Almost everyone says to avoid primary colors, but a bright, primary yellow is one of my best colors.

Very few people in our culture question the desirablity of wanting to appear "thinner/taller/younger" so when you say something is flattering, that's usually shorthand for accentuating at least one of the Appearance Holy Trinity. But what if you lived in a culture with a different aesthetic? My friend Maya's Granny tells this story:


Part of the time we lived in Fairbanks, we shared a house in town with another single mother, Linda, and her daughter, Jennifer. During that time, Linda's father, Mac, a widower, got married to a lovely Yu'pik woman just three years older than me, Marti. Marti, of course, "adopted" Linda, basically decided that she was Linda's mother and so was. (The thing with most cultures indigenous to harsh lands, the more relatives you have, the more likely you are to survive. Adoption is easy but not casual.) Not so of course to a white person's thinking, Marti also adopted me and my children. Having a grandson at that age was very high status. Age is also high status, and Marti has always, when asked hers, responded with "My oldest daughter is . . ." (fill in my age at the time). So, when she was 32, she had a 29 year old daughter. Now that she is 67, she has a 64 year old daughter.


The reality of a third status item was born in to Linda and me after we had moved to California and Marti and Mac came to visit. Linda and I took Marti to Macy's to buy a dress. She tried on a very nice dress and was getting ready to buy it when the sales clerk commented, "That's a wonderful buy. It makes you look 20 pounds smaller." Of course, Marti wanted to know what it was that did that trick, and upon being told it was the dark fabric and vertical stripes, immediately asked if they carried anything light in a horizontal stripe. So, there she stood, in front of the mirror and the stunned sales clerk, smiling from ear-to-ear, in a dress with yellow and black horizontal stipes that made her look like a friendly bumble bee, rubbing her belly in pride and crooning, "My belly. My beautiful belly. I ate for it. I got it."


While I do choose my clothes with what is most flattering in mind (as my young-and-skinny-worshipping culture defines it) about 90% of the time, I've also found that selecting clothes solely based on that criteria can be quite limiting. Having grown up with so many dictates about what should and shouldn't be worn, especially if one did not have a rail-thin figure, I've found that one's own voice and taste can easily get buried. Choosing how to adorn one's body can be a fabulous means of self-expression, and that which most expresses who we are may not always be that which makes our waist look smaller or our legs look longer, or hide a sagging neck. If you look at some of the street style shots over at The Sartorialist, you notice that some of the people with the most unique and expressive styles often flout the rules about what is flattering. For me, it's a question of balance; if I wear something I know has elements that may not be best on me, I'll try to be sure the rest of my ensemble does. But I no longer pass up something "Superfantastic," as Manolo the Shoeblogger would say, just because it might make me appear other than a svelte teenager.

The Eagle Has Landed

Look what the delivery person brought today! It's that lovely jacket from a few posts down. Please forgive my crappy self-portrait skills. The jacket's not as bright a metallic as the website pic (whew!) and probably needs to be pressed a bit. The sleeves are actually cuffed, which doesn't really come across in the original image. The lining is a really cool abstract print. The overall feeling is of a very girly trench, un peut Francais et trés chic! I ordered a size up from my normal on the advice of the online chat lady, and am glad I did. It's cut fairly voluminously, but fits me well through the shoulders. And it's got the Drama in the Back, which unfortunately I'm not enough of a contortionist to photograph. It's a keeper!

Bra Strap Babylon

To show or not to show?

For women my age, who were at least few years past legal drinking age before Madonna pioneered the concept of Underwear as Streetwear, the answer is almost always no. Slips, bras, panties...not meant to be a visible part of the ensemble. Daily, at work and play I am confronted with a plethora of VBS's (Visible Bra Straps). Honey, I don't care how pretty your new La Perla is, I don't think the meter maid is the Special Someone you shelled out the big bucks to impress. It's one thing to have a rogue strap trying to make it's escape over the shoulder now and then; we've all been there. But to une femme's eye, this level of strap flashing just looks terribly declassé.

photo Daily Mail UK

"But," you may be thinking, "it's awfully darn hot out these days, and my girls haven't passed the pencil test* since I was twelve years old! Must I choose between covering my shoulders and sweltering or looking like the Poster Girl for Gravity's Toll?"

Une femme says No, there is hope! The often geeky but always fascinating Solutions.com catalog has Just The Thing™. Their Perfect Fit Camis have a built-in underwire bra (which actually fastens with an adjustable hook closure, just like the real thing) and come in several different styles up to size 42DD. These tops are comfortable, and are well engineered to keep the girls "sittin' pretty". While they may be a bit pedestrian for the hardcore fashionista, they are perfect for a picnic by the lake or walking les chiens. Don't forget the sunscreen!

*Pencil test- popular lore from the late 60's when going braless was suddenly de rigeur: if you can hold a pencil under your boob hands-free, and it doesn't drop to the ground, you should be wearing a bra.

Carnivore Gals Won't You Come Out Tonight

This article in the NYT Style section has been making the rounds.

[sarcasm] Ladies, apparently it's now OK for you to eat meat in public, and even on a first date. Guys will think it's HAWT, seriously! As long as you're thin, that is. [/sarcasm]

'In an earlier era, conventional dating wisdom for women was to eat something at home alone before a date, and then in company order a light dinner to portray oneself as dainty and ladylike. For some women, that is still the practice. “It’s better not to have a jalapeño fajita plate, especially on the first date,” said Andrea Bey, 28, who sells video surveillance equipment in Irving, Tex., and describes herself as “curvy.” “You don’t want to be labeled as ‘princess gassy’ on the first date.”

But others, especially those who are thin, say ordering a salad displays an unappealing mousiness.' (emphasis mine)

I used the think the practice of eating small, light meals in order to appear dainty was a quaint anachronism out of Gone With The Wind. You remember the scene, where: To no avail, Mammy vigorously lectures Scarlett: "If you don't care what folks says about this family, I does. I has told you and told you that you can always tell a lady by the way that she eats in front of folks like a bird, and I ain't aimin' for you to go to Mr. John Wilkes's and eat like a fieldhand and gobble like a hog." Hard-headed Scarlett's response is: "Fiddle-dee-dee."

During my formative years while the etiquette of the day still dictated that if the "gentleman" was paying (and in those days they were almost always expected to), the "lady" should always order the second least expensive item on the menu whether or not it might send her into anaphylactic shock, the consideration was primarily one of economics. Then, when the first of my friends to get asked out on a date (early 70's, sophmore year in high school) spent two days agonizing about what to eat so as not to "look like a pig" I realized in some respects we were still living in the 19th century. (Her dinner date was to Bob's Big Boy, where she ended up ordering a dinner salad and iced tea.). For many years I took her example to heart, and ate very little in front of boys, especially those I was interested in. My first high school boyfriend used to bug me about my weight so while he ate a burger, I'd have a cup of coffee. My second boyfriend, who had a much saner attitude in this area, thought this was nonsense and often encouraged me to eat. In fact, on our first date he invited me to his house where made me crepes.


In the years since, I've encountered a vast range of men's attitudes toward women's eating*. On the one end of the spectrum are the guys who really do feel more comfortable with women who "eat like birds" even though they might do that faux-complaining-but-actually-bragging thing about it, "I never see her eat anything but celery sticks!" God forbid she order a sub sandwich or they start oinking at her. (Meanwhile she's probably raiding the pantry after he's gone to sleep. But not like I'd know anything about that.) Moving down the line are the men who say they like to see a woman eat, on the unspoken condition that she remain thin. Then there are the guys like the ones in my former folk dance group. Their motto was, "The secret to happiness is to keep the women fed." My kind of men. By the time I met my husband, I was secure enough to warn him early on that I get bitchy when I'm hungy.


Anyhow, this article makes me really glad I'm not out there still navigating the shoals of the dating world. Zuzu **distills the article down to its essence quite nicely:

Be yourselves, girls: order what you think he'd approve of you eating in front of him.

*My own personal theory is that there is an inverse relationship between a man's level of security with himself and his concern about what his date/girlfriend/wife is or isn't eating.

**One of Zuzu's commenters mentioned that they wouldn't be surprised if the NYT article is a "placement piece" from the Beef Council. Wouldn't surprise me either, and I say that as une femme who enjoys a nice ribeye or filet mignon on occasion.

Not on Sale, Still a Bargain

While at Old Navy last weekend to pick up some shirts for my son, I snagged this jacket for myself, priced at just $29.50. It's the first time in eons I've found anything at Old Navy that appeals to me. I wore it for the first time today, and it's a great "Summer in LA" jacket: very light cordouroy, perfect for those marine layer mornings and days when the office air conditioning seems to be on steroi---er, Performance Enhancing Drugs.



You can throw it in the washer and dryer too. Betcha you can't say that about this similarly styled See by Chloé number which will set you back a mere $720.

Une femme's Gotta Have It

So then some little dream of a jacket comes along that breaks all of the rules. Like the Bad Boy in your 8th grade Science class who had long hair and rode Motocross and was always in trouble for not doing his homework, it makes your heart beat faster and you know you won't be satisfied until you get your hands on it.

Saw this first thing this morning over at Second City Style, and at least three of my "Commandments" went right out the window (#1, #4 and #7). But the good news is that my lust need not go unrequited (unlike my 8th grade heartthrob who didn't know I existed and only had eyes for the tall and snooty Drama Girl). Back off, Drama Girl, this one's mine!

The Commandments of Style, Old and New Testaments

The indoctrination to sartorial rules began for me back in the days when women were "ladies," and ladies paid strict attention to those rules, if they didn't want to be referred to as "women." It was a time when white gloves for ladies and hats for men, while they would become quaint anachonisms in a few short years, were still the norm. I'm sure there were variations on the old rules, depending on one's background and culture, but for a middle class white girl in the suburbs, these were designed to help cement one's social standing and demonstrate that one's parents had class and taste.

So here are the style commandments as delivered by my mother (in no particular order):

1. Thou shalt not wear white between Labor Day and Memorial Day (cliché, yes, but people lived and died by this one)



2. Thou shalt not mix patterns. (florals+stripes = tacky, tacky, tacky!)



3. Thine shoes and bag shall matcheth shalt match.



4. If thou be of corpulent stature, thou shalt not wear any of the following: horizontal stripes, bright colors, shirts tucked in, two-piece bathing suits, sleeveless shirts, large prints.



5. If thou desirest not to be marked as a harlot, thou shalt not wear any of the following: red nail polish, (think this one may have been a family quirk), tight sweaters, animal prints, or anything with rhinestones.



6. Thine patent leather shoes are to be worn for Sundays, holidays and parties only.



7. Thou shalt not pierce thine ears or wear dangly earrings during the daylight hours. (part of that harlot thing again...so many of the rules were about not looking like a Girl Who Does It)



8. Thou shalt not wear black and brown together. (it's like matter and anti-matter, dude, it'll tear a hole in the time-space continuum!)



9. If thou be over 40, thou shalt cut thine hair short.



10. Thou shalt not wear black, except to funerals and cocktail parties.

Fun, huh? No wonder the 60's "do-your-own-thing" fashion movement hit with such a vengeance. Since then, fashion rules may emerge for a time, but then get thrown back into the Fashion Marketing Cuisinart and re-emerge in different form every couple of years. One year, high waisted jeans are to be shunned as the mark of a fashion leper, the next they are au courrant. Trying to keep up with the rules would mean reinventing yourself every few years, and unless you're Madonna, that's not good for either the wallet or the psyche.

So over the years this femme has evolved (and devolved) some commandments of her own. While I may stray on occasion, these are the guidelines I generally return to that help me feel grounded. These work for me based on my body type (short and curvy) and the styles/silhouettes that appeal to me. So here are my own Style Commandments, New Testament version (also in no particular order):

1. Thou shalt eschew the Frou-Frou. (I'm just not the ruffles and lace type)



2. Thou mayest wear the spots of the leopard, but thou shalt wear only one animal print at a time.



3. Thou shalt Step. Away. From. The. Gaucho. Pants.



4. Thou shalt remember the amortization factor. Dividest the price of the item by the probable number of times thou wilt wear it to help decidest whether to whip out the plastic.



5. A little bit of lycra is thy friend. Empire waists, not so much.



6. Thou shalt not wear anything that results in physical discomfort.



7. Classics shall be the foundation of thy work wardrobe; useth more trendy accessories to minimize the Stodgy Factor.



8. Make this thy mantra: when in doubt, simpler is better, less is more.



9. Thou shalt shun the matchy-matchy.



10. Thou shalt buy what fits and flatters, regardless of the size on the tag.

What are your Commandments of Style? Do they change from year to year, or remain pretty consistent?

Doggie Style!

Sorry, couldn't resist! (From the NYT Style section.)

So it would seem I'm not the only one who when they first saw this, immediately was reminded of this.

Edited to add: great minds think alike.

Another Sale Score

Found this nifty snakeskin clutch at Cole Haan's sale on Friday. Cole Haan bags are pretty reasonably priced for the high level of quality of leather and workmanship they deliver, and at 40% off, this was a steal. I've never been hugely into snakeskin, but this clutch really caught my eye. It's nice for a more casual night out (not sure how dressy you can go with this, though due to the muted brass hardware).

While I'm generally lukewarm about some of Cole Haan's bag designs, they do hit a few high notes each season. This bag, new for fall, is much more stunning in person than their website picture would indicate (the leather is positively scrumptious) and if you're looking for something in a more muted silver metallic for fall, this satchel in Gunmetal is worth a look.

Waiting in Vain for Autumn

A sight you'll never see around here.

Autumn has always been my favorite season. My nerdhood status as a child was not helped by the fact that I was the only kid in my neighborhood who by mid-July was chomping at the bit to get back to school. Each new school year was like a new start: new books, new teachers, new subjects, new lunchbox, new cute boys in the class, and yes, new clothes. My mother would often start schlepping us around to buy new school clothes around the second week of summer vacation. I hated the shopping process; it was hot outside, all your friends were spending their days riding bikes and coloring the walls of tree forts with bay berry juice, and who loves to hear over and over how x makes you look fat, or you can't wear y because you're fat, or z hikes up over your butt? But I did enjoy having some new clothes to wear each year. Autumn, much more than New Years, has always felt like the time of new beginnings for me.


Between the sales and the "pre-fall" collections, I still purchase the majority of my clothes this time of year (except for this last winter/spring when I went apesh!t at Forth & Towne before they closed down). Pre-fall clothes are my favorite because a) living in Southern California, these are the items I can wear for 3/4 of the year and b) they most often are the colors that work for me. I'm trying to simplify and re-build my work wardrobe around neutrals, and I'm thrilled that grey is so big this season; it's an easy color for me to wear and looks great when paired with either earth tones (grey and rust is a stunning combo) or with bright accessories.


But Southern California is not the place to live if one's favorite season is Autumn. When most of the rest the country is pulling out those lovely fall sweaters and jackets, and taking walks on crisp mornings past the trees resplendent with colorful foliage, we're sneezing through Santa Ana's (hot winds that blow west off the deserts), stepping outside into 95+ degree temperatures, and choking on smoke from inevitable wildfires. While it's a dry heat, yes, it certainly isn't what October is supposed to be. The weather here doesn't start getting cool enough for sweaters until almost mid-November or even December, but then it will often stay sweater-cool well into June. It doesn't get cool enough, though, to provoke the leaves to turn bright colors, so with a few exceptions they usually just turn brownish-grey and drop off.

Here's a SoCal Autumn Kvetch haiku I wrote a few years back:

gorgeous fall sweaters
in shop windows mocking me
can't wear for months yet

I'll admit, we don't have five foot snowdrifts in the winter or ice storms or lots of muddy slush in the spring, so there are payoffs. But I still miss living where there are actual seasons, especially in the coming months.

Moi??? Really?

Oh my gosh!! I'm so nervous...I never expected this. I didn't prepare any speech. I mean, it's an honor just to be nominated! (tap, tap, tap) Is this thing on?

I'm just so delighted! Miss Janey at HATtastic has tagged me for a Rockin' Girl Blogger award! Very cool blog you have there, Miss Janey. I love your Jackie hat pics! I'm honored and humbled to accept this award. And consider yourself added to my blogroll.

And I'd like to share this award with some Rockin' Girl Bloggers who enlighten me, brighten my day, and make me laugh and think, sometimes both with a single sentence.

First, Maya's Granny is the most rockin' granny you'll meet anywhere. Maya's Granny has the wisdom of age, the sense of wonder of a child, and sometimes the wonderful righteous anger of someone who's actually paying attention.

Winona of Daddy Likey is a daily read for me. Usually she's busy cracking me up, unless she's so damned sensible that she gives me hope for young women everywhere. I can no longer apply my Diorshow mascara each morning without the words "With great power comes great responsibility" echoing in my brain.

I started reading Meg's blog, Faking Good Breeding, just for the wonderful blog name. But Meg's another Rockin' Girl with rockin' good sense, whether she's deconstructing the ad campaigns of American Apparel and Victoria's Secret, fleshing out the definition of "affordable" fashion (at least for those of us without trust funds), and separating the wheat from the chaff when it comes to "hot" fashion trends.

Kate Harding at Shapely Prose eloquently fisks idiotic studies, and dispatches with the ramblings of asshats, all while in Cobra pose!

Harriet Brown of Feed Me! suffers no fools either. I suspect she kicks some serious fool butt.

Congratulations all of you Rockin' Girl Bloggers! Now let's keep the love going; select your own five girl bloggers who rock and keep this award ceremony going into overtime!