Attention, shoppers!

Remember those fab Banana Republic "jackson" lightweight wool trousers I raved about a couple days back? They're on sale now!

Six Random Things

Linda Grant at The Thoughtful Dresser has tagged me for a meme, Six Random Things. In no particular order:


1. I'm a fifth-generation Californian. My dad's ancestors were Scottish and Welsh miners who came during the gold rush of 1849-50.


2. When I was 18, I broke my pinky finger on my left hand by smacking into a concrete wall during a charity fundraiser roller skating marathon. I didn't realize it was broken, skated for another 6 hours afterward and never had it set, and now it's permanently crooked.


3. I don't like sweet drinks, the solitary exception being root beer.


4. I'm terrible with remembering names of people I've just met. But if they tell me their birthday, I can remember that hours later.


5. I have no known allergies.


6. My first car was a '67 Mustang.

Tagging: Duchesse, Belle de Ville, Meg, Ashe Michief, Nancy, and Miss Janey.

Poaching

Picture: http://castletapestry.com/customtapestry/

No, une femme hasn't been hunting stag in the Earl of Wibberley's forest again. I'm referring to poached eggs, a skill which I've only recently mastered.

Mon pere ate two soft boiled eggs for breakfast almost every morning, so I'm no stranger to runny yolks. Our cat used to sit in my dad's lap while he scooped his boiled eggs out of the shells and chopped them up, and would periodically flick his paw out and scoop up a bite, so Dad begain making him an egg of his own periodically. Lawry's Seasoned Salt was (and remains) the condiment of choice on soft cooked eggs.

A few years ago while playing "food anthropologist" with my own eating, I realized that having some protein (and fat) with each meal prevents those between-meal blood sugar crashes, and eliminates that hunger-driven "when-am-I-going-to-eat-again" brain static. But making a soft boiled egg on rushed weekday mornings often feels like too much of a project, by the time you boil the water, cook it (4½ minutes), cool it, scoop it, chop it. Plus, soft boiled eggs don't work so well on toast. I have a microwave egg poacher, but the results have been wildly inconsistent and it's tough to get that perfect result of fully cooked white and runny yolk. A few months back with the help of our friend Google I started experimenting with poached egg methods. Here's the one that works best for me:

Fill a small saucepan with water at least 3" deep, bring to a boil. Crack an egg into a small cup or bowl. Once water is boiling, reduce heat until you get a medium simmer, salt the water. Slide the egg in gently, set timer for 2:00. When done, remove pan from heat, lift egg gently out of the water with a slotted spoon, drain a moment and enjoy over toast or alone.

Don't forget the Lawry's!

Updating the Mix

Despite my intentions and declarations of last autumn, I did not end up buying and wearing more suits for work. A lot of the suits I tried on just looked too stuffy, or if I liked the jacket, the pants didn't work, and the other way around. As much as I appreciate the concept of suiting, when if comes down to what's on the racks I'm just not feeling the suits these days. I'm still relying on a trousers/jacket combo for the most part, but opting for plain trousers and jackets with a bit more style and currency than standard suiting blazers.

When it comes to trousers, I'm a recent convert to Banana Republic's "jackson (contour)" fit. BR gets it really, really right with these, especially in the lighweight wool version. Jackson's are cut for women like me who are full in the derriere, and they fit without the gaping waistband in the back that plagues me with most other styles in the same price range. The front hits just below the waist, and the inseam length is perfect for wear with a low heel. In addition, they're fully lined, and don't bind anywhere, so I can skip the Spanx! These trousers in taupe and black have become my weekday wardrobe workhorses.

But as I begin to prep for a weeklong business trip to New York in May, I realize that my stock of spring/summer jackets is low, and the few that I do have are maybe just a leeetle bit too laid-back or theatrical for meetings at the Corporate Mothership. So it's time to sniff out some style online, and do a little pre-shopping before getting behind the wheel.

The Banana Republic blazer that coordinates with the trousers I have is nice and classic, but a bit boring. Still, I can add some interest with scarves or jewelry, so it's a possibility, and worth a try-on. I'm not seeing much else on their website that would work with those pants.
While most of JCrew's styles seem to be targeting a much younger demographic than une femme, a few of their jackets have appealed to me in recent months. I like the stying (and the bracelet sleeves!) on this one:
But the color is just too much. Wait, they have it in navy, which might work with the taupe trousers, and could be potentially Paris-worthy (worn with dark wash jeans, non?):

Here's another one in Navy (not my favorite color, but it seems to be unavoidable this season): I'm a little uncertain about mixing wools though. And this one is pricey for a color I'm not in love with. Everything else I'm seeing on their site is either too ruffly or too fussy. (Why must everything be wrapped/tied at the waist? Does no one consider the mechanics of putting on/taking off a jacket during a business meeting in a conference room with a bi-polar air conditioner?)

While in the past I'd purchased several Ann Taylor suiting pieces that worked very well (am still wearing and loving a wool tweed jacket picked up on sale there over five years ago), lately their jackets and suits collections have been missing the mark for me. But ohlala! this has potential!

The Hooker Shoe Trend: Not Dead Yet?

First The Manolo predicted their imminent demise a few months back. Yet the heels grew ever higher, and the designs more fetishistic with each new season.

Now, via Linda Grant at The Thoughtful Dresser, another death knell rings for the über high heel.

Une femme says, enough already. Die you crippler of women, you harbinger of bunions! We express horror at the concept of foot binding and think we've come so far from the days of whalebone corsets laced so tight one could not take a deep breath, yet the underlying premise of "that which most incapacitates the wearer is most desireable" remains. And that's really what it's all about. You can talk about how heels make a woman's legs look longer, blah blah but when you get into the arena of 5 inch, 6 inch, 7 inch heels, it's really about rendering the wearer useless, purely ornamental. Aren't we smarter than that?

Now before you grab your torches and pitchforks, I'm not suggesting that we all must plod around in Birkenstocks. There's nothing shlumpy about a nice 3 inch heel. Why is it so hard to find heel heights available in between earth and sky? It's time to get our heels out of the stratosphere, and rediscover the concept of walking.

Nope, still hate The Grove

Navigating horribly congested streets to get there, screwy parking you have to pay for once you do, and manic crowds. The only time I like going to The Grove is early Sunday mornings before the stores open to have breakfast at LA Farms.


The Grove is everything that is horrible and spectacular about our brand-saturated American lives. It’s a living version of every pretentious theory you may have read back in grad school: a facsimile of a space, a scripted zone, a generic city, a vituperative quote by Baudrillard or Deleuze. But it’s also totally great!

Rethinking Pink

If you aren't watching the Battlestar Gallactica series on the Sci-Fi Channel, you should be.

BG has some of the strongest, most developed and interesting female characters this side of Deadwood. Kara Thrace ("Starbuck"), President Lara Roslin, Six, and Sharon/Boomer are all complex and conflicted, flawed and fascinating. The story lines deal with everything from religion, torture, armed insurrection, Presidential secrecy and limits on power, the urge to reproduce, bigotry, loyalty and betrayal, to the very definition of what being "human" means.

Don't worry if you aren't up on your quantum physics or don't own a pair of Spock ears or get your thrills discussing quarks and wormholes over a bag of stale Cheetos. This more a character and plot driven than tech driven show; other than the obligatory and short video-game-ish battle sequences, there's less "science" than "fiction." In fact, some of the technology seems almost charmingly quaint even by our current standards. (I should confess that I am a bit of a sci-fi geek, but even my non-geek friends are loving this show.)

Anyhow, the humans in this series hate the Cylons (intelligent robots who have nuked most of humanity) with a blinding, burning intensity. Which is how I've generally felt about wearing the color pink. Pink was the color of uber-femininity, of snotty sorority girls and girls who were fine with letting the boys win.* And I hate how pink has been co-opted by every marketer trying to sell some product to women.

But just as some of the Cylons have turned their backs on their own kind and have chosen to help the humans, I've come to realize that not all pinks are evil. Take this scarf, for instance.

It's a wonderful, warm pink (despite how it appears in the photo above) that flirts with the skin tone and sweetly flatters without being cloying. It's a pink that isn't afraid to be pretty, but doesn't care what anyone else thinks. It's a pink that I can be friends with. It's a pink I can trust in deep space as I journey back to Earth.

*I mean no offense to anyone who loves and wears pink. These associations were based on my own experiences, and like any prejudice, I recognize my own as irrational.

Foulard de la semaine

Well, I've been told that the word I learned for scarf back in high school French class, "fichu," is a rather antiquated word, along the lines of "bumpershoot," "pocketbook," or "Davenport" in English. My high school French teacher also had a heavy Korean accent, so my pronunciations were a bit off for a while too. :-)

Anyway, this is a good style to wear with a light, sheer scarf. Fold the square once diagonally, drape in front with the triangle pointing down like a bib. Cross the ends around the back of the neck, then back to the front and tie in a square knot over the top of the "bib".

Got Matzoh?

Seder plate painted by my son and the dreaded Four Questions


Happy Pesach to those who celebrate!

MIL hosts the big family Seder. Each year she tries to cut the number of guests down, and each year last-minute invitees bring the number back up to around 30. MIL makes The Best Matzoh Ball Soup On The Planet. My assignment each year is to make the apple kugel. Here's the recipe for anyone who's interested:

Passover Apple Kugel:

4 green apples, peeled & sliced thin

8 eggs
8 matzohs
1-1/2 C. sugar
2 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. lemon zest
2 sticks butter or margarine

Grease an oblong baking pan, preheat oven to 450.

Beat eggs, add sugar, vanilla, butter, lemon zest (OK if the butter is chunky)

Run matzohs under water for a few seconds to soften.

Layer matzoh, apple, egg mixture, repeat until you run out, probably 2-3 layers of each

Bake 450 for 15 minutes

Cover, reduce to 350, bake another 40 minutes

(You can also add some golden raisins to the egg mixture if you like them.)

I should mention that this recipe is for feeding a larger crowd, and you can easily halve the ingredients and make in a 9x9 square baking pan.

SUI: Online

LA Times:

"People definitely do it all the time," says Shopbop spokeswoman, Alle Fister. "It's click, click, click after a few cocktails."

Actually, une femme is less susceptible to SUI (Shopping Under the Influence) than SWB (Shopping While Bored). It's those SWB hangovers that I wake up to and find myself buried under boxes of floral skirts, a half-dozen lipglosses, overpriced leopard print sneakers, and the same pair of jeans in four different washes. Thank Heavens for liberal return policies and pre-printed shipping labels!

Fear and Loathing

Yes, it's time for une femme to replace the swimsuit.


The one I purchased a couple of years ago in Palm Springs, and loved like no swimsuit I'd had in decades, has given up the ghost. It's faded, stretched out, and the bottom is pilled and worn thin from pool chemicals and rough concrete steps. This suit shouldn't have been so flattering, there were no "slimming panels" or ruching, or v-necks "creating a more vertical line." There was no clever color blocking or underwire. It was a simple, brown tank with a soft cup bra and thin straps, and looked fabulous on. I started looking for its replacement last year with no luck.


Prior to my PS Perfect suit, I'd had pretty good luck with Land's End swimsuits. I should mention that a) I'm not a beach bunny or lounge-around-the-pool type (my family's proclivity for skin cancer means I'm a committed Siren of Shade, including the big hat, cover up and sunglasses in addition to my 50+ SPF sunscreen), and b) as with my clothes, I prefer my swimwear without a lot of gimmickry. I need something basic, comfortable, and flattering that's actually designed for swimming.


I'm also adverse to trying on swimsuits anywhere except at home. There's something about the lighting in most dressing rooms that highlight all of the features of my physique I'm less than enamoured of. Every bump and roll seems to be magnified in that fluorescent glow. So online I go. Let's see what's out there in one piece, V-neck styles.

Nordstrom's carries the Miraclesuit brand, which I've read good things about. This one is kind of cute, but the top looks less than secure, and brings back some embarassing memories of an accidental Girls Gone Wild moment after my Olympic-calibre jackknife from the diving board.
Option #2 meets my basic requirements (v-neck, simple) but is just a little too "boobs in bondage."

I'm all for a little animal print, but this one just screams Cabana Cougar.
Ouch. This is traumatic just to look at. Flashback to childhood summer swim lessons and the Fat Girl suits my mother made me wear (not to mention the swimcap adorned with multicolored rubber flowers).
Halters usually are flattering. Here's a possibility. The description says "underwire" AND it's available with a D cup...
Love the styling on this one, but the polka dots remind me of a dress my grandmother had circa 1965... On to Land's End. here's a one-piece that's not too stodgy, but I'm iffy on the shirring at the waist. sometimes when it's straight across like that it bunches up and creates the effect of an overly tight belt. If you want to rock a Betty Grable look, this little number is surprisingly flattering. It actually looks better on women with more curves than the model.
I've had Land's End tankini's in the past, and while they're not as flattering as a one piece, it's nice not having to peel out of and then back in to a tight, wet suit when you need to go to the bathroom. This halter tankini top might be worth a try (with bottoms here).
My pals at Travelsmith also offer some swimwear, and this style (also by Miraclesuit) is one of the more promising.
I'll let you know which I ultimately end up with, but will not be uploading any modeling pics.

Une femme Covets...

Thanks to Monsieur Fred the Mole, I am now seriously craving this scarf. And I'm not a "blue" person. On peut acheter ici.

While doing a search yesterday, I ran across the Lafayette 148 website. Now here's a brand that's speaking my language. I so want this jacket!Paris-worthy? Mais oui!

I'm holding off on both for now, but DAMN.

Mood Parisienne

Edith Piaf performs "La Vie en Rose" in 1954.

It's Friday...

...and you've worked hard all week. Go buy yourself something pretty.

Fichu de la semaine

It's still a bit chilly here most mornings, and will be up until July. This is a nice way to keep your neck warm without a lot of bulk. Scarf is "Jardins d'Hiver." Fold diagonally into an oblong, drape around the neck with the ends hanging down in front, twist the ends around each other twice, then pull ends to the back and tie in a square knot.

Materfamilias briefly mentioned in a post from last weekend that I don't usually show my face when posting pictures of my scarves or clothes on this blog. This isn't due to any deficit of narcissism on my part, but rather because I tend to freeze up when a camera is pointed in my direction, and the look on my face is strained to the point that a viewer might reasonably be led to believe I'm in thumbscrews. If I try to smile, it's worse.

Les Cheveux

Jury duty update: Seated as Juror #9 yesterday, I was flicked by the Prosecution today during one of their preemptory challenges. And I'm certain my answer in the affirmative when asked if I thought some drugs should be legalized had nothing whatsoever to do with it. "The truth shall set you free" indeed.

I'm almost as mental about my hair as I am about my weight. I don't have Good Hair. I have baby fine, thin, straight hair that grows about 1 inch per year. When I was young, of all the fairy tale heroines, the one I most wanted to be was Rapunzel. I yearned for long hair that I could wear in two braids, Indian style.

(With 20/20 hindsight, I'm glad I didn't look like a brunette version of this in all of our family snapshots!)

But my mother wanted no part of dealing with tangles and snarls and claimed that my hair would look "stringy" if long. So my sister and I had short, short hair throughout our childhoods, which I still blame for never being chosen to be in school plays. Between the ages of 14 and 30, I've grown my hair out to shoulder length or a little longer probably half a dozen times. And in recent years, have gone through growing the layers out until it gets to about chin length. Yet I always end up cutting it short again. My mother was right: it does look stringy.

But it's not just that. I feel more like...me with a short, layered cut. It could be it's just what I'm more accustomed to, but I don't think it's just that. There's something very liberating about short hair, and not just the 20-seconds-blow-dry-and-you're-done aspect. Short hair feels more free than my long hippie tresses ever did. Short hair on a woman is a thumbed nose to conventional beauty, an unfettered ride in a red convertible.

And I've just gone quite short again. Jean Seberg in "À bout de souffle" short. (Except red.)

Jury Duty

Une femme has been called to serve. With any luck, this will be a one-day deal. Yes, I know a trial by one's peers is the cornerstone of justice blah blah, but if you get empanelled, voir dire can take days, is mind-numbingly boring, and they always end up flicking me anyway.

Eye Wash

Because it would have been cruel to leave you all with that last post for the entire weekend, here's the antidote for the socksandals eyeworm. They call this color Red Quasar, and it's stellar!

Funky Friday - Cosmic Joke Edition

WTF?

Seriously, what kind of person wakes up one morning with the thought, "Hey, what the world really needs are sandals with built-in black socks! "?

I rest my case.

Heavy Lifting

Une femme's ongoing efforts to ruthlessly edit down the contents of la garde-robe have stalled. Not only am I struggling to cast off those "maybe-I'll-wear-it-someday" items, but I've taken a step (or four) backward as I've recently been accumulating rather than shedding. The goal of refining my wardrobe down to only those items that are classic, chic, flattering, and well made has at times seemed insurmountable.

Archimedes said, "Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world." Well, dear readers, I think I have found my lever and fulcrum.

La Belette Rouge posted today about applying the "wear it in Paris" standard to assess potential purchases. I love this idea, and it's a great way to keep myself focused on my goal when tempted by those cute-but-redundant items on the sale tables. While she was speaking of limiting purchases to those she'd use on her upcoming trip, I'm going to expand on this standard to apply to what I already own and imagine whether I would wear it, not for a specific trip or occasion, but if I were to suddenly find my entire life transplanted to Paris.

"Would I wear it in Paris?" It's clear, it's concise, and it shall become my wardrobe mantra. Managerial and motivational textbooks stress that success comes from goals that are clear and results that are measurable. And lo! the yardstick has appeared.

The good news is that there's nothing I need right now for any occasion short of a black tie gala (and I don't see any of those on the horizon). I can hold the line on any new purchases without much pain. Plus, with the money I'll save in the next few months by cutting back on spending, I can splurge on something really fabulous when we get to Paris!

V for Vanity

Merriam-Webster online defines "vanity" as:
1: something that is vain, empty, or valueless
2: the quality or fact of being vain
3: inflated pride in oneself or one's appearance

Vanity as defined above has always had a bad rap, and probably rightly so. But a lot of what drives vanity is, in une femme's opinion, not an inflated pride, but rather a deep insecurity about one's own appearance or talents, and the constant need to puff oneself up to feel validated. (Case in point: the vain and wicked Queen in Snow White.)

In the manner of throwing the baby out with the bathwater, our culture has tended to label all concern with appearance as "vanity" and condemn it as vapid and shallow or even sinful (while at the same time, expecting women to effortlessly look like they could grace a magazine cover). Yet there is a positive aspect to taking care with how we look, one that indicates a healthy self esteem, a respect for others and a desire to present our best selves to the world. I can think of no word in the English language for this flip side of the vanity coin, and there should be.

Care with appearance is, in the greater sense, a small piece of the essential human struggle against chaos and entropy. On those days when we're feeling blue or dog-tired, making the effort to wash our hair, or using a bit of concealer, or resisting the call of the ripped sweatpants are all small ways to show courage, and perseverance in the face of all that would keep us down. Maybe that is vanity after all, a way of inflating ourselves, and maybe it's not such a bad thing. When we're in good spirits, putting some energy into our appearance feels like a natural expression of that sense of self-worth, and a polite nod to those we come in contact with.

I think of the last time I visited my grandmother before she died at the age of 93. She'd always been well put together, and when I saw her that day sitting in her wheelchair at the lunch table, her hair was freshly coiffed and she'd applied her usual red lipstick. It was her way of saying to the universe, "I'm not done yet."

Fichu de la semaine

Here's one way I like to wear a silk square. (Once again, apologies for the blurry pic; our camera's autofocus seems to not be working well these days.)

Fold diagonally into an oblong, then wrap twice around the neck and tie in a square knot.

Scarf is "Kachinas" by Kermit Oliver.