Northwest

A few things I wear or do that seems to be typical for this area. Most of these things I wore before I moved here, but I guess we seek the environment where we can blend in. It's like camouflage, in a way.

* Birks
* hairy legs (though not in the summer)
* scarves
* rain jacket i/o umbrella
* layers
* natural fiber
* funky shoes
* covered up
* winter hats (Kangol cap, watchman's knit cap, black beret, wool hat)
* cross-body, messenger style bags

Changes to simple

I have 4 shopping bags of clothes that I want to try to sell. That sounds horribly indulgent, even to me, but I console myself with the thoughts of a friend who had 8 garbage bags of stuff for Goodwill that she found on her floor.

A few things that have changed about my style:
* darker colors like grey and navy blue
* plain colors instead of patterns (easier to mix and coordinate. looks more expensive even if it's not. chic.)
* simpler items with less embellishments
* layering
* skirts again
* "luxury" fabrics like cashmere, wool, and jersey cotton

The boy has remarked that these changes lets my body shape come through. I've gotten a few dresses lately that are very very simple. A swath of blue jersey with a belt, falling to the knee; a slip dress with a banded vee bodice. He was referring to these things.

I've been pondering how to dress for the winter without becoming total frump. My body doesn't have the kinds of curves that look good in a thick wool sweater. I tend to get swamped in them. So I suppose it's a simple minimalist style that might work for me.

A tiny bit

I did just a tiny bit today. And picked up two tiny things: a camisole made of blue shirting, and ruched under the bust; and a pair of blue and white plaid pj bottoms with a rainbow grosgrain ribbon tie.

Shopping alone

I went shopping by myself on Friday. It's been maybe more than a year since I've been shopping by myself. Oh, I might make it out alone to the Best Rabbit and Rodent House once in awhile to get hay for the pigs, or perhaps stop by TJ Maxx on the way back, but whenever I have gone on a shopping expedition, the boy has gone with me.

I would thread my way through the racks, he trailing after, to offer opinions and to hold the things I wanted to try on.

The boy, although he favors nerdly clothes for himself, had become quite a fashion consultant. He offered good opinions. Advice like "the proportion seems off," and "it's nice, but not special" would spring from his mouth. He was horrified that he had learned how to appraise clothing.

But on Friday, I went by myself. It felt strange. It was quiet, not having anyone to talk to, and I could hear the conversations going on around me. There was a gaggle of excited girls in Sephora, and a similar group, about 15 years older, in Anthropologie--both cliques were discussing what they were going to do that Friday night. I think the girls had a club to go to, and the women had a dinner party.

In the open shopping mall, I crossed under the awning to get to the Victoria Secret (another free panty coupon). Night time was coming on. The lights were twinkling, and the shop windows glowed.

It felt strange, like being single, alone, again. Like slipping on an old pair of shoes you haven't worn in awhile. Familiar, and almost comfortable. But not quite.

[photo: anthropologie website]

Rain

In the rainy season, which I'm in now for several interminable months, I regret the long hems of my pants. They drag on the streets, fraying, and by the end of the day, they are muddy and forlorn.

When will I be warm again? It feels like I'll never be warm again. My clothes are suited for different climes. One day I'll move and the place and my accoutrements for the place will correspond.

Pajamas

I did not wear pajamas growing up. I think that habit might be a distinctly middle class notion, this idea of wearing something completely different to bed, for the sole purpose of sleeping.

Instead, I wore whatever I changed into after school. Most likely, a pair of shorts and a tee shirt.

A few years ago, I asked for a pair of pajamas for Christmas. Actually...my memory has gotten muddy. It must have been about eight years ago (holy geee!). My sister--who could always be counted on to give slightly better things than what I wished for--got me a plaid flannel pajama set. The pattern was startling, but the fabric was warm, and we settled in nicely together.

So I know it's getting cooler once I start padding around in those pj pants again. The elastic is shot, so mostly I pad around the apartment with the pants hanging low, like a gangster.

Multitudes

Both



credit: first pic, newish model Cecelia
& second pic, a TFS-er

P.S.

BUT! Speaking of bar clothing. I just remembered. The guy to the left of us was wearing grubby blue Carhartt overalls. And, not only that, he was wearing them as actual workwear. Eventually, after talking to him a bit, we pinpointed the smell to have derived from close proximity to mulch.

Oh, which reminds me. I am coveting a pair of Carhartt overalls myself. Will probably mail away for one soon. Nice to be able to become sexless in one neat, fell swoop.

Bar rules

The other day, I ended up at a bar without really intending to. Which is to say I was not dressed for it. I had on, from the outside in and down:

navy blue cashmere hoodie
blue cardi
white sleeveless tee
pink pants
blue and yellow polka dot belt

I felt way too colorful for a bar. You do not wear pink pants to a bar.

I was not conscious of this rule until I saw myself in the foggy, pockmarked mirror in the lady's restroom, aka the seventh level of hell. The stall's doorlock would not latch, the wood construction was sticky (let's not even imagine why...very inconvenient when you have to brace yourself from falling over as you hover, drunk), and a strong malodorous smell lingered in the air.

But at least there was t.p.

When I returned to my seat, my beer glass had been refilled in my absence. "It's a miracle," I said.

Whirligig

I got a nylon messenger that has a huge knot with three fabric spokes going off of it. It makes me think of whirligigs.

How have I acquired such a fondness for silly, or perhaps on a good day, whimsical, clothing? Just in the accessories, though.

Chloe Patent Leather Platform Wedges

I dreamed of these shoes last night.

A little bit Japanese, fetishistic, and punk all at once. I dreamed I had these shoes, and the life to go with them.

Overheard at Loehmann's

Loehmann's is a discount department store stocked mostly with brand-name clothing. It's also well-known for its communal dressing rooms. Usually I bypass that and wait for a private dressing room. One, the four walls of mirrors creep me out. Two, I don't like being looked at. Three, I don't want to inadvertently see a middle-aged woman in a thong, as I did the previous time I went. Nothing wrong with being middle-aged, or wearing a thong for that matter. But I'd never seen a thong in real life on another woman, and the experience was a bit too much reality for me.

So I was trying stuff on in my dressing room, and I overheard the conversation going on in the dressing room next door. It sounded like a British grandmother taking her granddaughter out shopping. The girl emerges from the room and awaits approval. A pause, and then...

"Do you want my honest opinion? It seems to me that you're trying to go from sweatpants casual to a more sophisticated kind of casual. Things that you can wear when your boyfriend takes you to New York for the weekend."

"I don't wear sweatpants," she says defensively, "and we wouldn't go to New York." But at this point we're both listening to grandma because it sounds like she's been around the block.

"That's fine. Perhaps a nice brown turtleneck that you can pair with a knee-length skirt? What do you think?"

It goes on in that fashion. Grandma reminds her that everything she gets will be 20% off (Which reminded me of my own coupon that I'd left at home!).

I liked that interchange. It made me think of the small moments where women pass down knowledge and experience, one to the other.

Photo: Carinne Roitfield, editor of French Vogue, and her daughter