Style musings, yes, but speaking of style, check out my Stormy Weather rose, blooming now in a tangled fence corner near you (well, not really: near me). My family gave me this rose for Mother's Day, I forget how many years ago, and it's been --- as my mother would say ---- very satisfactory ever since. It's a beautiful old-style climber with, as you see, these deep, plummy blooms and the most marvelously sweet-spicy fragrance. I have other roses blooming, but these are enduringly my favorite.
Also:
I think this is Mock Orange, but I've never been quite sure.
And sweetshrub, which isn't that conventionally pretty, but puts out a smell like nothing else, all summer long:
So, some more style musings. Being finished with a big chunk of work, both proofreading and banging out poem introductions for this week's Sun, and having received Elyse Holladay's weekly style digest in my email, I've found myself down something of a clothes-musing rabbit hole.
Now, one thing I like about Elyse and people like her, even if I don't really share their style, is that they say things like, "It's not shallow to care about how you look." As I've probably said before, I'm often plagued by the thought that deep, intelligent women have better things to think about than clothes, so if I'm thinking about clothes and appearance, I must be shallow and dumb. This, as I'm sure we can all agree, is a Desolation. It's a hard one to banish, but honestly, we need show it no hospitality. I'm making a Note to Self here, but I'm sure I'm not the only person who could stand to hear this message. It is not shallow and dumb to care about how you look. In fact, that thought is as much an affect as anything else. It's a certain kind of aesthetic choice, and into any kind of aesthetic choice we do put some amount of our time and energy. Why not put that time and energy into taking care of ourselves, in ways that feel good and right to us, instead of declaring in everything that we do that we don't have time for all that?
Besides, as again I'm sure I've said before, clothes are interesting. I'm endlessly fascinated by how people look. I can't help myself watching people go up for Communion at Mass (though I really try not to), because I am interested in what they have on, both men and women, but particularly women. I'm interested in their self-presentation and their choices and why they might have made them, though of course most of the time I'm in no position to know. I'm not judging them, I don't think, though I might think, Hm, maybe not her best color. I certainly don't want to make moral judgments about the length of somebody's skirt or anything like that. God loves those people, every single one of them; who am I not to love them, too? Who am I to think that He would not welcome them, simply because they come? But I am interested in how they look, all the same.
Anyway, style musings. I downloaded and read Elyse's little e-booklet on style habits, linked in yesterday's post. As anyone who's read this blog for any length of time should know by now, I am an absolute sucker for things like that. And . . . well, to a huge extent, this particular thing didn't offer me that many revelations that I hadn't already had, but items like "buy nice hangers" were interesting.
Habits I've already cultivated:
*Taking a picture of my outfit every day. I did take some time to gather all my photos from the last couple of years, since I've been practicing this habit, into one album, as she suggests: seeing your outfits all juxtaposed with each other is bound to be revelatory.
I can attest to the utility of this particular habit. For one thing, it makes me make an effort every day. If I know I'm going to commit myself to a photograph, then I'm a little more mindful of what I put on. Mind you, there are plenty of misses, as well as hits, in my album. But putting those photos together last night also reminded me of things I've liked but have kind of forgotten about. It starts to look like a lot of close-up selfies, not exactly a pure curation of whole outfits, but those remind me of what colors I felt particularly good in, or not. I've also recorded little outfit details that I particularly loved, because those things tell me something about my whole aesthetic. For example, I'm not super-feminine. I really don't like wearing heels. My favorite shoes are sandals and outdoor-type shoes. I'm not comfortable in what I think of as "lady outfits," with really coordinated tops and trousers, heeled shoes, a big handbag. I guess I think of myself as more "organic" than that. At the same time, I love little feminine details and touches. I love tucks and smocking and embroidery and graceful necklines and little floral prints and vintage jewelry. If I'm going to wear something menswearish, like a tailored blazer, I really want to pair it with some kind of delicate, feminine top, and/or a floral skirt, and/or a filigree brooch. That kind of thing is really my sweet spot.
ETA: This dress is totally my sweet spot. And I can tell you why. It looks fresh and soft and feminine, but not like a "lady outfit." The color is lovely to me. The neckline is *chef's kiss*. I love the waist/belt detail. It channels that kind of postwar Sylvia Plath/somebody in Maigret look without being too costumey --- it's a dress you could really live in. Anyway, I don't know where she got it, and I'm not sure I want to know, because I'd be tempted to buy it, but this is an example of seeing an image, liking it, and upon interrogating yourself, being able to articulate what it is you like. That doesn't mean you have to buy that thing. It just means that there are details that maybe . . . you could assemble in your existing wardrobe, for example, to generate the feeling that the image evokes. You can go back through your pictures to find them, if you've taken daily pictures.
*Keeping a list of what I have in key wardrobe categories. Check. Taking a photo every day is one way to track my wearing patterns. Noting every time I wear an item, and when, on my spreadsheet, is a good way to know, at a glance, what I do and don't wear and how much. I'm already considering some unworn or very-lightly items as outbox candidates. It's helpful, too, to be prompted not only to notice what I am and am not wearing, but to consider why I am or am not wearing something.
-if it makes me feel good, why does it make me feel good? When I think, this makes me feel like myself, what does that mean? What me does this item reveal to me?
-conversely, if it doesn't make me feel good, why? Is the color wrong? Is the color right but the shape or fabric wrong (that's a useful one, because then I know to look for that color in another shape or fabric)? Is it consistently fiddly or uncomfortable: I'm always having to move my bra strap, or worry that something I don't want to show is showing? If so, then Note to Self.
*Doing a closet reset every season. I didn't really set out to do that, in so many words, but in practice I have been doing it, and it helps me organize, clarify, and plan. I don't do major purges, but I do do little ones at fairly frequent intervals.
*Being willing to spend more on an item of clothing. Hello, Wool&. Part of my reasoning for a no-buy year is to move me out of my dependence on thrift-store shopping for what wind up being stop-gap items that eat up my budget, so that I never feel I can buy a thing I really want. What I'm learning to do is to plan purchases carefully: identify what I need (including all the elements that drive that need, like how I want to feel, how I want to present, what I plan to do in that item of clothing), then identify something that really, truly, fully meets that need, rather than going to Goodwill because I'm bored or depressed and buying ten things that will do. I'm never going to be a minimalist, and I don't even think that that's a real goal. Like, to put it bluntly, it's a totally meaningless category and I'm sick of hearing about it. It's not a virtue. It's a secular fill-in for any number of actual moral goods, but it's not a thing in and of itself. AT THE SAME TIME, there's a lot to be said for having only what you need and not what you don't need, and for discerning the difference between the two. That in itself won't necessarily set you on the path of holiness, but it is common sense, and it will help you get dressed in the morning.
Habits I really haven't cultivated:
*Relationship with tailor. I do know one. I just don't get there. That's one of those executive-function things that I'm just not sure is ever going to happen regularly. But on the other hand, especially as I've worn dresses more and more, I don't think I've had that hard a time finding things that fit well.
*Buying a lot of items to try on. Again, there's an executive-function element here. I have gotten better about returning things, especially as companies have made mail-order returns easier, but putting items in the mail is a big obstacle for me. I'm not about to buy five dresses to see which one fits. I will buy one, and if it doesn't fit, then I will send it back. But nine times out of ten, I've bought carefully enough that it does fit, so I don't have to.
*The coathanger thing. I mean, I like that. It's just that on my list of budget priorities, coathangers don't even exist. If somebody wanted to give me forty nice wooden coathangers, I would say thank you, but I'm not about to blow my budget on something like that. Sorry. Not happening.
Meanwhile, I have really liked things Elyse has said. Like this, for example:
I don't do style tips like "how to style jeans for fall if you're curvy!" because I know that authentic style goes so far beyond trends or getting "bohemian" on a style quiz.
I like that her style coaching seems to focus on helping you to discern who you are, what you like, and why you like it. Instead of just going, "Oh, I like that outfit (on Keira Knightley riding a bike in a movie, to use an example she talks about in the little audio clip I shared yesterday), interrogate your reasons: what it is, from that whole image, that you want for yourself? What about that image do you want to present as yourself?
If you don't like something, why? Is it really not you? What does not you even mean? Can you differentiate between things like this ---
-wrong color
-difficult shape
-uncomfortable fabric
-image at odds with what you know about yourself (like super sporty if you're not at all sporty, which is why some shorts outfits I tried last year felt totally wrong to me. That's the other reason why you should take pictures. Sometimes you save yourself an entire day in an outfit that's totally wrong for you, even if there's nothing objectively wrong and it would look fine on somebody else.)
--- and the idea that you could never pull off something you're attracted to (because you think you're too old, too fat, too homely)?
In other words, there's a difference between knowing yourself and hating yourself, and it's really important to discern which of those is driving your clothing choices. There's a difference between honoring your body and dressing it with dignity, and being ashamed of your body and dressing to hide it.
I think a lot about specific words that manifest things that appeal to me aesthetically: words like fluid, flow, organic, natural. These are words that could play out in clothing in any number of ways, of course. Fluid by itself could be like the old 1970s quiana fabric. In company with words like organic and natural, it could still be channeling any number of 70s vibes, but of a particular kind that isn't about disco music.
And I notice images that appeal to me, often about more than clothing. I've been watching the older Maigret series with Michael Gambon --- the most English French people I've ever seen in my life, but once you get past that it's a good show --- and really noting the character of the various French interiors that appear and liking them: their worn-ness, their eclecticness, their complete antithesis to mid-century Danishness . . . But I also notice things like the low-heeled Mary-Jane shoes a little old lady was wearing in an episode last night. I might not have worn her whole outfit, but those shoes: yeah! I can totally be an old lady who wears Mary-Jane-style shoes. The older I get, the more comfortable I feel in what I've characterized before as "first-grader" clothes, though I don't mean clothes that are self-consciously little-girlish. I would never wear a bow in my hair. I would wear puffed sleeves with caution. But a sort of little-French-girl/little-old-lady postwar aesthetic, which is simple and streamlined but has little touches like Mary Janes: yes. That I can do.
That said, I've gone for kind of a different aesthetic today, still firmly in fluid, flowing, organic, natural territory.
One of my goals, of course, is to keep reaching for my whole closet, not simply the same things over and over. What my hand fell on today was this thrifted gauze patterned maxi skirt. What to wear with it? Again, my hand fell on this little white thrifted tank which I've had for I forget how many years, and which is a basic but indispensable summer staple for me. I already had on my Xero Colorado sandals, having put them on with my nightgown to go out with Dora first thing this morning, so I've just kept them on. The charcoal gray does provide a contrast and a dark frame for the whole outfit.
Now, I don't know that this is the most flattering outfit possibility in my whole closet. The horizontal pattern across my hips is kind of a risk, and I do often wear this skirt with longer tops, like my blue bamboo dresses, so that it's a little more skimming. But you know, I have the body I have, and this is it. I do like the flow of this skirt and the change from above-the-knee. I can do anything in it. I'm wearing it knotted at the hem, partly so I don't trip on it going up the stairs (the skirt gets turned around, but the knot is supposed to be close to the front for that very reason), and partly to nip the silhouette in a little, so that my shape, such as it is, doesn't get entirely lost in all the fabric. I'm not sure what the fabric content is, actually. It's gauzy, but probably not all, or at all, cotton. From the slight sheen I'm guessing rayon, but I don't really know.
The tank meanwhile is all cotton. I often don't wear white because I'm afraid of spilling things on it, but this piece has held up remarkably well for I don't know how many years. One thing I really like about it is the slight gathering at the v-neck, which makes it softer and less severe and plain than it might have been otherwise:
I can wear a variety of whites, as long as they're not too yellow, but this basic bright white is good for me, especially when I've had some sun:
Nat Tucker maintains that you should wear the same white as the white of your eye, but honestly, I have a hard time telling whether my eye whites are bright white, or what. I feel good in this shade of white, though, regardless.
Overall, this outfit ticks a lot of boxes. It's comfortable on a very warm day. I can move around in it with ease and without fear of wardrobe malfunction. It feels fluid, flowy, organic, and natural. I could see myself wandering a farmers' market in it. If we really want to go to fantasyland, I could see myself wandering about in the South of France or in Italy (just tossing on a cardigan or shawl if I wanted to go into a church). In fact, this skirt makes a good travel piece, as it doesn't wrinkle much or hold wrinkles. The overt pattern makes it maybe less versatile, but on the other hand, I have a lot of things I can wear with it. I've worn my Camellia over it, and my bamboo swing dresses. I've worn it in the winter with a pullover and boots. And if I look heavy in it --- well, I don't think it makes me look heavy. That is, I don't think it makes me look heavier than I am.
I did also try tucking the top in, by the way.
And --- eh, I don't know. I could go either way. The skirt tends to ride up to my natural waist, which is basically right below my ribcage. One effect of that is that my --- ahem --- bustline winds up looking and feeling saggier than it is, like my grandmother's, right at the waist. Leaving the top untucked gives me the appearance of a little more torso, even if it also makes a horizontal line at my hips. Well, can't have everything, and I didn't feel like a big oversized flopping tuckable top. As much as I like that look, it starts to drive me crazy fast.
Restrained hair feels right today: cool, off my neck, out of my way, but also graceful and elongating and balancing. Flowing skirt + flowing hair = too much flow.
The rest of my day: some writing, some laundry and housework, some training sessions with Dora.
LATER:
Another Note to Self:
Iron this stupid shirt already! It looks good with those shorts! And it's only been out of the wash for six weeks . . .
Anyway, I linked a shorts image above that is, I guess, a perfectly decent picture but is not a picture of me. That is, it is me, but it's not. This, though: this is a shorts outfit I can get behind. I keep forgetting how much I like the blue of that shirt with the sage-green of this one remaining pair of shorts. So the shirt's a little maternity-looking (I keep rechecking the label to be sure, and I don't think it is a maternity shirt), but what the heck. I like it.