Fashion

Printed Pantsapalooza

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So one of the unanticipated effects of a long winter was that in March I went on a bit of a fashion bender. After a pretty abstemious January and February, it’s like the floodgates opened and suddenly everything on the sales rack looked good to me. Neon! Weird abstract prints! Lime green jeans! It was like having the shopping equivalent of beer goggles.

Luckily the old habits of caution and discrimination are inculcated enough, and most of my enthusiasm was contained in the dressing room, satiated by taking plentiful amounts of dressing room try-on pics. (You know the ones I mean.) But the will was broken when it came to these printed pants. They are a bit 70s golf lady, but I do not care. I got immediately inspired when I brought them home and tried them on with a zillion different tops. It’s a couple of months later and I still love them. (Yay!) My 5-year-old nephew calls them my “cheetah pants” and gives them two thumbs-up because they “make him dizzy.” (Dizziness is a sought-after quality by most little kids, if I remember.) My beau gets a kick out of them as well. Even my mom loves them! Everyone wins! Most of the time I’m very intransigent when it comes to clothing and pretty low-key, but I’m glad I took this fashion risk and went out of my comfort zone a bit.

I am usually a jeans kind of girls, or I wear leggings on one of those days when I’m running around and I know I’m headed for a run or a dance class or the gym or riding and don’t feel like changing so much all the time. These are very much “today I’m going to play” kind of pants, and I like that about them as well. It’s all too easy for the days to be packed with industry, hard work, tenacity and effort — so it’s nice to put on clothes in which all I can be is playful. Plus: prints! How can you not love prints?

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Posted in Fashion on Monday, May 13th, 2013 | No Comments »

On The Fashion Blog Circus and That Dang Suzy Menkes Article

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Once upon a time, I was a fashion blogger. And while I lived happily ever after doing my own thing on this personal blog, I still look into the mirror of the fashion/blog world with a kind of distance that comes from having blogged a very, very long time — and yes, from being one of the early fashion blogs, part of a previous generation that included peeps like Manolo the Shoe Blogger, Marilyn Kirschner and Diane Pernet.

So it was with a kind of detached bemusement that I read this much-discussed Suzy Menkes article on bloggers, showoffs and “the circus of fashion.” Detached, because while I was a fashion blogger a very long time ago, I’m not really any longer. Bemused, because the whole fashion industry bemuses me in a “tempest in a teapot” kind of way. It always has, because deep in my heart I know it’s not a world that I ever fit in — I knew from the onset I’m an outsider, and so you automatically assume a kind of gentle yet critical distance from the aforementioned spectacle.

But I also found my reading of Menkes’ story tinged with a kind of sadness, and I can’t quite pinpoint it yet. I suppose it’s my sense of fashion blogging as a whole having squandered its potential to shift the conversation around style, fashion and industry — and that it has mostly become a distorted, odd Underland version of the mainstream fashion industry itself, with its obsession with status and consumption and its disconnect from reality. Don’t get me wrong: there are lots of shining lights out there in fashion blogging (as there are in the fashion industry), who don’t simply replicate the power dynamics and values of the dominant system, but bring something new to the whole enterprise. But overall, I’d have to agree: it’s a bit of a circus, and many “style stars” don’t inspire me much, on a personal-taste level and an ideological one. But with that sadness and disappointment with fashion blogging as a whole, I’m forced to ask myself where fashion blogging went wrong, and why it feels so often irrelevant to me as an admitted clothes lover and style watcher. And the answers don’t really come any easier, either. (more…)

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Posted in Creativity + Writing, Fashion on Friday, February 22nd, 2013 | 4 Comments »

Ouija Board T-Shirts, Direwolves, Prabal Gurung & Other Beautiful Creatures

This week has been a mixed bag! The bad: erratic sleep, which for this former insomniac is a bit of a trial, general stress and a sense that life is blurring quickly past. The good: a lovely Valentine’s Day and making great progress on my blog-to-book project. This week’s sparks and inspirations were therefore things that brought a little fun into the picture, tiny lightning strikes, fancies…a miscellany of mischief, in a way.

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Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board

It came upon me suddenly: I had a hankering for a ouija board t-shirt. It’s a bit Hot Topic-y, but I don’t really care, since I’m embracing my weird eccentric “bad taste” impulses in fashion — and I really like the idea of a spirit compelling me to transcribe messages while rubbing my shirt. If anyone asks what I’m doing, I can just say I’m itchy — but really I’m communing with the spirits of the other world!

When I was a kid, ouija boards freaked me out a little. They were a mainstay at all the slumber parties I was allowed to go to, and there was this one girl who was kind of perfect at it. She had the whole spooky “harnessing the spirits” act down. (She could also burp on command, which was also very impressive.) I love the idea of a t-shirt ouija board, if only because it’s playfully Goth, fitting into my whole “Goth everything” idea quite nicely. It’s all connected, no?

Direwolves on a Hoodie

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We’ve been rewatching “Game of Thrones” Season 1 in preparation for the 2nd season coming out on DVD next week and then the new season later this spring, and oh my god, direwolves! I still want one! My only complaint is that there weren’t enough direwolf pup cuteness in the show — I guess the Northern Inuit breed they use on the show isn’t the easiest to train? (Apparently there aren’t a lot of horses on the show, either, because the show’s budgetary limitations.) But the dogs are cute anyway, which is why I’m a little in love with this hoodie. I suppose I’ll have to hit up Etsy to get one, or just figure out how to make one myself.

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I’m also super-excited for Game of Thrones to come back on the air because I love seeing Emilia Clarke as Daenerys, if only for the semi-egomaniacal reason that she and I have the same body type, and I’m psyched she’s not the typical Hollywood lollipop silhouette. I also love the desert warrior queen transcription of the Snow Queen aesthetic, of course. I had no idea she was dating Seth Macfarlane, though…don’t you think that is the oddest thing?

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My khaleesi! It is known!

Sci-Fi Romance in a Dress

I haven’t paid much attention to many designer collabos — even the Martin Margiela/H&M one failed to interest me much, and I lovelovelove Martin Margiela. I think perhaps people had OD’d on them, and honestly, the idea of waiting in line and fighting a horde of jackasses who will only end up selling the stuff on eBay at ridiculous prices was not appealing to me. It just represents everything that I think is disgusting about fashion and consumption, in the worst way possible.

But while buying vanilla almond milk at Target, I popped into the dressing room to try on the Prabal Gurung stuff they had out. I wasn’t into most of it, but I did fall in love with this dress:

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It makes gestures towards the romantic with the floral print, but the paneling and fit are kind of athletic/sci-fi in their way, which I also like a lot. (One of my weird personal style epiphanies lately is that my workout clothes are actually some of the things I look best in, which is kind of shifting my world and I’m trying to figure out how to incorporate it.) I’m not an impulse shopper, but I snapped the dress up — it was the last one in my size, and it fit like a glove. The only bad thing is: there goes my resolution not to shop in February! Bad, bad Kat! But I know how rare it is for things to fit well — it’s like my fashion equivalent of a unicorn, or love at first sight. When things do fit, I just snap them up fast, and all the high-mindedness goes out the window.

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Posted in Fashion, Inspiration + Muses on Sunday, February 17th, 2013 | No Comments »

A Pair of Pink Leopard Print Sunglasses and a Bit of Bad Taste

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I recently bought a scarf and some sunglasses: a rare spur-of-the-moment purchase after my epic Zen wardrobe cleanout ages ago. I was just charmed, I guess, maybe craving a bit of spring in the heart of winter. The lavender floral scarf incorporated itself well into my existing wardrobe — I’ve worn it nearly everyday since I got it — and the dark sunglasses nicely replaced a pair of Ray-Bans I smashed last summer on an impromptu weekend road trip. But I felt oddly tortured about the pink leopard print sunglasses! Don’t get me wrong, I love them — but there’s a voice inside that’s a bit like, “Oh my god, should I really be buying this kind of stuff?” I mean, shouldn’t I be more grown up and elegant and chic and all those things now? Shouldn’t I just know better?

I was thinking about something that I read recently in Vogue, in an editorial that featured very chic French actress Clemence Poesy. I read a fashion bulletin board forum devoted to Poesy’s style every now and then, and certain habitués love to complain that Ms. Poesy was so much more “effortlessly chic” a few years ago. I guess it’s true: there’s definitely something a bit more playful and experimental about Clemence’s style now, with slight hipsterisms here and there. She’s still well-dressed and a lovely woman, but her style is arguably a bit less pristine than it used to be. (I don’t think so, personally — I still love her.)

But something she said in Vogue threw a little light on her evolution. To paraphrase, she said the “good taste of Paris” can get in the way of having fun. I guess I’ve been thinking about that as well, in terms of everyday personal style and becoming more grown-up. I mean, you’d like to think that getting older style-wise means becoming a little more sophisticated, and it’s true, I do have a finer sense of craftsmanship, cut, proportion and textiles when it comes to clothes. I appreciate all those things much more, and I’m more apt to buy a quality garment these days than buying something random at Forever 21.

But sometimes “taste” is just so dry and boring and stultifying. Too much good taste = a lack of imagination? Individuality? Eccentricity? A slave to the bourgeois? I’ve always equated a certain level of taste as more about socioeconomic aspiration than anything else and maybe deep down I still do — taste gets decided by “arbiters” and that has never interested me. I feel like I should “know better” when I find myself enticed by certain things — like, uh, pink leopard print sunglasses — but then I also breathe a sigh of relief that there’s still some zest in terms of my fashion sense. There’s just something a bit fun and liberating about a little bad taste. Style that’s truly alive to me has the twist of the unexplainable, something that disrupts the hegemony of all that good taste — even if it’s just something as hidden as hot pink underwear, my other undying style peccadillo.

I don’t know how often I’ll wear these pink leopard print sunglasses. My little niece squealed with delight when she saw me wearing them, and so they’re worth it for that alone, and maybe one day I’ll pass them to her, being a good auntie. But even if I don’t wear them, I’ll probably keep them on my dressing table — as a reminder that fashion’s as much about mischief and hijinks and inspired whims as it is about taste and “chic.” And you know, screw arbiters of taste and chic! Stick it to the Fashion Industrial Complex!

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Posted in Fashion on Monday, February 4th, 2013 | 3 Comments »

How Do Quirky Gamines Grow Up?

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I got a bunch of gift cards for the holidays, so this past weekend I went to a local department store at the mall and looked around for something to buy. I’m not a big shopper, especially since my big Zen wardrobe cleanout ages ago. But I thought I’d canvass the landscape and see if there was anything that caught my eye. I’m generally a proponent of buying quality clothing, and I’ve learned to hold out for something that I really love instead of buying something just for the sake of buying. But with these gift cards, I thought I’d splurge on something different, something kind of fun and frivolous.

The problem? I couldn’t find anything! I tried on all kinds of things from velvet moto jackets to sparkly tap shorts to beautifully cut sheaths. But there was only one thing I really loved, and that was a slouchy cream-colored sweater…with a cartoon owl on the front. I already have a sweater with a fox on it, but this one was three stops deep into adorableville. It was nicely cut, kind of relaxed yet flattering, mouthwateringly soft and the graphic made me smile. I put it on and found that it hit that intersection of cute and fun that I call “fetching.” But I had a strange thought when I tried it on: Is this too young for me?

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Suddenly I realized that I’ve been having this thought more and more lately, as well as its more depressive counterpart: Am I too old for this? Just to be clear, this isn’t a story about “dressing your age.” I’m too much of a feminist to believe in a lot of that bullshit: I think if you’ve got the legs for it (or even not) wear a miniskirt if that makes you happy. If you like your hair long, keep it that way. Celebrate your strength and dignity at any age! Forget mutton dressed as lamb — dress like your spirit animal!

No, what I’m talking about falls into the category of cuteness, of “quirky dressing.” Or even just semi-quirky dressing. (Anyone who knows me in real life knows that I’m fairly subdued and straightforward in terms of how I wear clothes, and my version of quirky is pretty chill.) But I do dig a quirky print, have a lifelong fondness for Hello Kitty, can’t resist slightly ironic florals, and am severely tempted by those adorable Charlotte Olympia cat flats. I’m not quirky head to toe, but I like a splash of whimsy here and there, and being short, people always call me cute by default, anyway. (Oh, the woe of being 5’2″!) I guess you could say that what I’m talking about also falls into the category of “taking yourself seriously.” Meaning: would wearing a sweater with a super cute owl on it make me feel like a chump?

Ironically, I face this conundrum partly because I have a lot of sartorial freedom in my life. I’m lucky in that I work from home, so I can wear anything I want — theoretically at least. I’m also lucky to have a body that hasn’t changed drastically as I’ve entered the dark side of the thirties. What I wore in college and as a young woman is not that far from what I wear now: jeans, boots, shorter skirts, tights, lots of boys’ sweaters and oxfords. I skew Goth-y and punky, but it’s essentially the wardrobe of a wannabe Parisian gamine mixed with a slight bit of humor. It actually works most of the time, so I don’t know what I’m complaining about here. I guess it’s really the little whisper of doubt nipping at me — the weirdness of bing a lady and heading towards 40 and feeling like I should feel like more of an adult than I actually do.

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That’s the rub of it, in fact. This past year I’ve felt more “settled” into my life than ever. Maybe “settled” isn’t the right word, actually. It’s more about feeling rooted and confident in what my life is about, who and what I love and value and cherish, feeling bolder about what truth and beauty I want to put into the world. It’s about going through this crazy journey and acquiring wisdom and experience, feeling battle-tested and strong and warriorlike, unwilling to put up with bullshit and wasting my time with what doesn’t matter. My heart is expansive and strong, and my game is tight! In my book, this is what feeling like an adult is about: not the acquisition of statuses and possessions, but the hard work, self-knowledge and (always evolving) wisdom that ideally should go into the trappings of adulthood in the first place.

I suppose, being a sartorially motivated person, that I’d like what I wear to reflect this lovely new feeling of being bien dans sa peau and rooted and grown-up. Yet so many “grown up clothes” lack imagination — and I don’t even know what that means, really! I don’t want to dress like Anna Wintour. I don’t even think it means wearing designer or expensive clothes, as beautiful as some of them can be. And honestly, deep down I don’t want to dress differently: I like the clothes I wear a lot. Everything in my closet is beloved to me. But I suppose I am looking that special element, something that marks this new expansive feeling in my life.

I guess that’s probably why I had another strange thought recently. I was slipping on a pair of earrings as part of what I call “Operation Sparklepony” (I know, not very grown-up of me) when I thought to myself, You know, I really should just buy myself a pair of diamond studs. Now, I’ve never been a girl who was big into jewelry or precious gems or anything like that. So this diamonds thing…where did that come from? I asked myself. I think it’s because diamonds have lasting value, they’re the opposite of disposable — they’re legacy, things you treasure and endow with spirit and significance and pass on. They last. To think of an accessory that way — that’s a grown-up thought. Who knows: I’m the least likely diamond buyer on earth, but maybe it’s just the right thing for me now. And that’s something I’ve taken time to grow into. (Plus: Operation Sparklepony!)

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So I didn’t get that lovely owl sweater I tried on. In the end, I decided I’d be content with my fox one for now and would save the gift card for later. And maybe I’ll buy something diamond-y, but I probably won’t. There are other ways to create that sense of legacy and heritage in your wardrobe that don’t involve precious gems. Maybe I’ll just buy another bottle of perfume! In the end it doesn’t matter, because I know now what I want to commemorate, and it’s worth thinking over, waiting for, and working towards. Such grown-up thoughts indeed.

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Posted in Fashion on Tuesday, January 8th, 2013 | No Comments »

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