A Sentimental Romp(er)

Draft:

Earlier Draft:
I wore these wedges with a pleated linen skirt that I never iron but should.  Which is ironic, because I didn't iron today's outfit either, and I should've.  These shoes must render me incapable of starching and pressing my clothing.

Composition:
chambray romper (Swell, on sale!)
assorted blues beaded necklace (Talbots, gifted)
monogrammed silver bracelets (gifted)
blue wedges (Target)

Usage:
Well, it took me all summer to locate a romper I liked at a decent price, and here 'tis.  Let it be known that I do not typically spend an entire season shopping for a single item; after a while, I either call off the search or purchase a version I don't particularly adore.  So this find is especially successful.  I like that this all-in-one outfit doesn't make me look too juvenile, and I also appreciate that the smocked elastic waist and bust prevent fabric puckering.  That's my principal beef with other rompers: many of them boast back zippers, a feature which causes the seams to lay oddly across my lower back and booty.  Earlier this summer, Katie and Liz wrote about their one-and-done look of choice: the cotton jersey dress.  My one-and-done pick?  This comfy over-/cover-all derivative. 

Good thing the temperatures will remain high for a few more weeks; this garment will have more wear time.  The weather's rewarding my unusual shopping sobriety with delayed gratification, I'm pretty sure.

Yesterday I wore this outfit to run errands, the most important of which was mailing a care package to my youngest sibling, my college freshman sister.  She began classes yesterday, and, from what I can tell, she's enjoying herself far too much to bother updating me.  This is a good thing.  Even though I'm teary-eyed that she's so suddenly grown-up, I'm excited for the growing-up experiences she'll have over the next four years.  Ten bucks and a bottle of nail polish say she's not thinking about books right now, but even so, I hope she'll catch the learning bug for a subject she loves and grow to find higher education positively delicious.  My time in graduate school, learning among talented educators, and my short months of interacting with you thoughtful blogreaders have convinced me that more than a few of my sister's professors will feel just as you do: energized by the new school year's potential.  And I'm equally confident their excitement will be contagious.

Prompts:

• Has your shopping endurance paid off this summer?  Tell us about your purchases!
• For nostalgia's sake, what's your favorite back-to-school outfit ever?  Here's mine: a floral-printed pink tunic tee, coordinating leggings, pink lace-up Keds, and a Princess Jasmine bookbag.  Topped off with a side ponytail.  Third grade, baby.

Audrey Might've Worn a Fedora

Draft:Earlier Drafts:
This strapless top's silhouette is surprisingly versatile.
These heels "go" with e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.  But I've said that already.

Composition: 
fedora (Target)
black strapless top (ShopMamie)
multi-chain necklace (Talbots)
black Audrey pants (Gap)
nude suede heels (Seychelles via Piperlime)

Usage: 
This week Katie reassessed her closet and determined that her attraction to floral prints may indicate that she's a more "ladylike" dresser than she realized.  Liz noted that Katie had previously described her style as "easy elegance," and asked if Katie considered the terms "ladylike" and "elegant" synonymous.  Their exchange was helpful to my own thinking because, although this week I've grappled with the definition of "ladylike" and danced around the idea of elegance, I hadn't speculated about the ways in which the two meanings may intersect. 

Months ago, noted photographer and illustrator Garance Dore published a post entitled "What is Elegance?" on her personal fashion blog.  I like Dore's definition of this frequently-used, often-abused term, for it emphasizes conduct over clothes and decorum over dressing habits.  It encourages me in a You're-Never-Fully-Dressed-Without-a-Smile sort of way.  People can be elegant with or without the "right" style savvy, she suggests.

Rex Harrison's character Henry Higgins learns a similar lesson in the 1964 film My Fair Lady.  When his efforts to refine Audrey Hepburn's street-smart protagonist Eliza backfire, Henry realizes that Eliza's je ne sais quoi renders her more elegant than any of his rules of form.  She is dignified despite, not because of, his insistence on social and sartorial graces.

I mention this film because, not-so-ironically, it derives from the same Mad Men era we've been discussing this week.  Consistent with the social undercurrents of 50s/60s fashion, the movie's very title challenges the notion of femininity.  For starters, it's possessive, suggesting that the fair female in question might be owned by, or at least indebted to, her teacher/admirer.  Therefore, it also implicitly asks, when exactly does Eliza become a "lady," before or after Henry instructs her in navigating high society?

I think the meanings of "ladylikeness" and "elegance" might intersect here, at the concept of social shrewdness.  Dore's characterization certainly esteems "politeness," "attention to others," "poise," and "a sense of culture" as primary qualifiers of elegance.  And media evidence from Audrey's classic films to Frank Sinatra's 1950s tune "Luck Be a Lady" demonstrate that, for women coming of age in these pivotal decades, "lady" likely had similar connotations.

If this is true, are these terms simply equivalent to "ethical conscience" or "social awareness" or something like it?  Do they mean being kind or even genteel enough to get along in society?  What implications would accepting these definitions have today?  As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm interested in sorting through these ideas because so far next season's fashion marketing has depended on them.

Even if we don't reach any conclusions on the terms, I'm glad our posts this week have sparked such lively conversations about the development of feminism and the resurgence of vintage fashion.  We're energized by your insightful comments, comments like Mackenzie's: 

"I'm with you that 'ladylike' is a difficult word to use in grappling with your clothing ... But the silhouettes themselves? Rock, rock on. Not wearing something because of its previous connotations of bondage is just as much a form of bondage ... Let's all wear what makes us happy and only call it 'ladylike' if we are ready to be called 'ladies' in whatever we wear."

Prompted by Mackenzie's suggestion to wear what makes me happy, I've compiled an outfit inspired by Audrey Hepburn's monochrome look in the 1957 film Funny Face.  I've thrown in a fedora to gesture at Sinatra, too.  The overall ensemble is my nod to his confident swagger and Audrey's gamine boldness.  How does it resonate with you?

Thanks for the great discussions this week!  Have a happy weekend.

Prompts:

• How do you define "elegance"?  "Ladylikeness"?  Do you think they're synonymous?
• Why do you think Audrey Hepburn is regarded as a fashion icon?  What does she represent to you?
• How do you think our style mindsets are like or unlike those of the 50s/60s?
• More practically, this one-size-fits-most fedora business is not working for me.  Is this hat supposed to cover my ears?  How are you guys wearing them?

Home Away from (Academia) (Home)

Draft:

Earlier Drafts:
I found this charming, oversized blazer on sale in charm central, Savannah, Ga.
A turquoise necklace in the bib style?  Count me in.
I've worn these sweet yellow flats with a spectrum of hues.

Composition:
strapless floral dress (ShopMamie)
linen blazer (Gap)
turquoise necklace (ShopMamie)
yellow flats (Target)

Usage:
Liz coaxed me out of hiding yesterday for a dinner and shopping date.  Given that I have spent the past week hibernating in T-shirts and devouring stacks of chick-lit novels, I was grateful for the outing.  I washed my hair and wore real clothing*.  It was awesome.

Equally awesome?  My hiatus from the computer has helped me feel at home with myself, stylistically and otherwise.  When I last posted, I was preparing to paint the very last room in the townhouse my husband and I had purchased in October and delayed updating 'til May.  Since that post, we've committed ourselves full-force to final renovations.  Now we're feeling at home in our first place, among our own furniture, with our own art hanging on the walls.  We sleep better at night, we host friends more often, and we devote dinners to real conversation, not to rattling off To-Do lists.  Nevermind that our second bathroom is still tiled floor-to-ceiling with dragonfly-inspired ceramic work.  It's fulfilling to feel ownership of something, flaws and all, I'm remembering.

Since reading - and relating to - Katie's candid post about body insecurities, I've become convinced that transferring my home ownership lessons to my clothing choices would revolutionize my self-perception.  Katie mentioned that wearing identical bridesmaid dresses invites body comparison; likewise, I've noticed that living in a neighborhood of nearly-identical brick townhouses invites neighborly property evaluation.  That's to be expected.  But the similarities between my street-mate's house and mine inspire me to make my space unique.  Even though I appreciate the hostas in her front yard, say, I enjoy my unruly azaleas because, well, they're mine.  They represent several Saturday mornings of my own sweaty, T-shirt-tanning diligence.  (I feel like there's a Robert Frost poem about this.  The property-owning and hedge-trimming, not the farmer's-tanning, I mean.)  What if I dressed my body out of a similar spirit of appreciation and pride of ownership?

For me, Krista's guest-post about maternity wear sealed the deal on this sartorial lesson.  I love that she dresses to celebrate her baby bump, reveling in her stage of life and appreciating her body's capabilities.  Even though I'm not in a baby-making headspace these days, her wardrobe advice for expecting moms makes me feel confident about dressing for my circumstances.  Admittedly, I've been stressing over composing professional outfits while I'm away from academia.  Right now I can't make the pseudo-professorial clothes work, not only because I'm no longer in the environment, but also because my heart's not in it.  I'm in a different place now, and Krista's post reminded me that it's okay.  I'm beginning to appreciate my body for its replace-my-reading-plan-with-DIY-projects accomplishments, and I'm starting to dress like this post-grad school phase of life is home.  For now, at least.  It feels pretty good.

*This dress might function best as a beach cover-up.  I'm still deciding.  For now, as long as the temperatures remain scorchingly high, I feel bold enough to go city-street public with it.

Prompts:

• How do you best represent yourself during life transitions?  Do you find that your wardrobe choices change dramatically, or do you take comfort in keeping your wardrobe choices consistent?
• What's your take on the body = house analogy?  Veteran homeowners, do you find that owning a house makes you appreciate it in different ways?  Have your property-owning responsibilities affected the way you dress?
• From reading your blogs - it's great to catch up on your lives after being away! - it seems like many of you are also rethinking self-perception through clothing choices.  Please share the sartorial/life lessons you've learned this season!

Bra Straps: Your Thoughts?

Draft:

Composition:
tortoise shell new Wayfarers (Ray-Ban via Zappos)
green and white striped tank (via my sister's closet)

Usage:
My apologies for being MIA for the last week and for still starting this week off without a decent outfit post to share!  I spent this past week at the ATP World Tour 500 tennis tournament in Washington, DC, part of the series of men's tournaments that lead up to the US Open in NYC.  As you can see in this photo, I met Patrick McEnroe at the tournament, and he was kind enough to sign my copy of his recent memoir for my grandmother.  She'll love it, and he was very friendly, but this post isn't about that.  I used the photo for this post because my bra straps are showing.  While this tank merges my two favorite trends this summer-- stripes and stealing from my sister's closet-- it also accentuates a summertime dressing hurdle that I just can't get over.  I hate visible bra straps on myself, and I almost always avoid wearing tops with thin or spaghetti straps because I don't have a strapless bra I love.  I thought the racerback bra was working here but this picture reveals to me that it wasn't.

The tennis tournament is fun for me mostly because I love ATP tennis, but to a lesser degree because it is such an unusual dressing environment.  It is super hot at the tournament, and there's very little shade, but it's still a place "to be seen" on the DC social calendar, so people tend to dress up.  None of you will be surprised to find that I observe the sartorial choices of the women in attendance nearly as carefully as I do the tennis matches.  So after my week at the tournament, I can report back with two interesting observations:
1) There are many more fabulous flat sandals on the market this year than last.  In 2009 I saw flip flops almost exclusively, though they came in quite a few styles.  This year, wearing my beloved rose gold t-straps almost every day put me in good company.
2) I may be the last young woman alive who has not embraced the visible bra strap.  I noticed last year that it was evidently "okay" to wear a regular bra with a spaghetti straps, but this year the "trend" was even more ubiquitous.

I don't think my disdain for the visible bra strap is due to modesty, because I'd happily wear a spaghetti strap top with an appropriately fitting strapless bra.  I try not to use words like these, but I think I'm still mentally stuck in considering the visible bra strap to be "trashy" or "tacky."  However, the women at the tennis tournament seemed to deconstruct this notion, because plenty of the ladies who were clearly trying to look "monied" were proudly sporting visible bra straps.  So I'm dying to know where you all stand on this one.

Prompts:

• Do you wear a regular bra with tops/dresses that have thin straps?  If so, do you try to minimize the appearance of the bra by wearing a nude one or one that matches the straps, or do you wear a brightly colored bra that you think is cute?  (I saw a lot of this, too.)  And does the thickness of the strap matter to you?
• What's your reaction to women or their outfits when their bra straps are visible?  I hate it on myself, but it doesn't "bother" me nearly as much on other women (as long as they're not at work), though I don't know why.
• Anyone care to weigh in on why bra straps are becoming more acceptable to the masses at the same time that visible panty lines seem to grow ever more abhorrent in the public opinion?
• Have you discovered the holy grail of strapless bras, and if so, where should I go to find it?

Quick Change: Black, White, and Brown

Draft:

Earlier Drafts:
I wore these boots with a wrap dress.

Composition:
black draped tube top (Shopmamie.com)
turquoise bib necklace (Shopmamie.com)
white chiffon skirt (thrifted)
white capris (Gap)
brown boots (Steve Madden via Marshalls)
brown wedge sandals (Nolan by Faded Glory via Macy's)

Usage:
Sorry I'm running late today, blogworld!  I'm at home writing my final essay for the semester, and I'm in need of socialization, even if it is merely virtual.  I haven't blow-dried my hair (yes, it's naturally curly!), I'm not wearing makeup, and I only just stopped to analyze this morning's dressing choices. 'phew'  So, here it goes:

I recently purchased this black tube top - one can never have enough black pieces, says I - and I've had fun experimenting with its silhouette.  Pants and shorts of any cut, like these white capris, seem to pair well with it.  By slimming the legs, they emphasize volume on top.  However, coupling the tube top with skirts requires a bit more creativity.  Some of my skirts are too short and don't make enough of a statement under the top's fabric; others, especially the A-line skirts, look too full under it.  So imagine my delight when I rediscovered this thrifted number hidden in the recesses of my clothes rack.  Several years ago, I located this white skirt while bargain-hunting with my mom.  I barely glanced over it, but she insisted that I purchase it.  Until today, I had yet to locate what seemed like the best top for it, so year after year this forlorn skirt ended up in my "To Donate?" pile.  Year after year I saved it.  Now I'm so glad I did - the tube top has redeemed the skirt, and I've created a fun new outfit from two hard-to-wear pieces.

In addition to experimenting with silhouettes, today's outfit also toys with a hotly debated fashion "rule:" Don't wear brown with black.  Katie questioned the validity of these so-called tried and true style codes several weeks ago when she challenged the No White Before Memorial Day standard.  You weighed in, concluding that rules were meant to be broken.  With this outfit, I echo you with a hearty "Here, here!"  I think women should pair brown - especially brown leather things and khaki-ish things - with black frequently and without reservation.

Here's a caveat, though: my husband, upon seeing my outfit, asked, "Does this mean I can wear brown with black too?"  What do you think?  If the brown-and-black palette works for women, does it also work for men when, say, they want to pair brown dress shoes with black suits?  I'm inclined to think that the black-and-brown palette looks sophisticated as long as it maintains enough contrast between the two shades.  For instance, these camel colored boots are not only separated from my black tube top by a neutral piece, but they also differ significantly in color from the black top.  My husband - and other guys -might achieve a similar look by executing palettes like this or this.  The point, I said, is to look intentional, not colorblind.  I could be wrong, though - do you think wearing black-and-brown well is a matter of contrast?

Prompts:

• Which fashion rules do you love to break?
• How do you wear black and brown together?  Do you think wearing them well amounts to maintaining contrast between them?
• Have you ever surprised yourself by creating favorite outfits from neglected or hard-to-wear pieces?  Tell us about 'em!