Now playing in my garden: this birdbath, made by the Artgirl. The next few days will probably be full of photos of pottery --- just FYI.
I'm wishing very much that I had thought to take my phone with me when we walked the dog late last night. As it is, I got zero Northern Lights photos. Yep, we saw them. We weren't sure that that was what we were seeing, but indeed, the pink striations in the sky at 10:30 p.m. were not town lights reflected off cloud, but the fallout of a solar storm. We have too much light pollution, even in our small town, for our views to have been as magnificent as some of the photos I've seen, but even as far south as Tallahassee, Florida, people were treated to remarkable colors. This feels miraculous to me, even as my partial view of last month's eclipse felt miraculous: just to know that it was happening, and that what I was seeing, however dimly, was that. It feels like a figure for all of this life, when we know that the glory is there, and sometimes we see it through a glass, darkly, because that's about all we can handle.
Today the husband is off to graduation, and the progeny are sleeping the sleep of people who haven't slept much for the last month, but drove fifteen hours home anyway. Monday they get up to go to Waynesville, in the mountains, for their May Term astronomy course, but we have them for the weekend, and it's nice. We love them very much, and their company, however brief, is a joy to us.
It's sunny this morning, with a projected high of 75F, and I have not much on. One of the husband's new merino-tencel tees is supposed to arrive today, and that's about all the excitement I feel prepared to handle. I might try to peck away at my fiction scenes some more, and to read Emily Dickinson. I also have Eugene Vodolazkin's Laurus on the table by my desk --- many people I know and trust have raved about Vodolazkin and this novel, specifically, so I ordered it via Goldberry Books' Bookshop page. This is an independent bookstore run by friends in downtown Concord, North Carolina, currently torn up for some kind of ongoing roadwork reconstruction project that's making it difficult for downtown businesses to survive. As David, the owner, told me the other night, the project was supposed to last six months, and now it's in its third year. It's eliminated parking all over their downtown and cut foot traffic to almost nothing. Goldberry Books is a beautiful store and has hosted me twice now for readings with Marly Youmans and Joseph Bottum. Anyway, I've bought several books lately using their affiliate account, and if you're in a place they mail to and are so inclined, maybe you'd like to consider supporting a worthy independent bookstore. This at any rate is why I now have Laurus to read.
Wearing today:
*Wool& Willow dress (M) in Wisteria, bought February 2022, last worn with a skirt to Mass on Sunday, April 21
*Secondhand Allbirds tencel-merino leggings, bought January or February (I forget which and am too lazy to look it up) 2024
*Secondhand Birkenstock Mayaris
Wet hair, warm heart. With everyone else either away or asleep, I had the leisure for a nice long warm bath this morning and a good scalp scrub. I used some leave-in conditioner, then smoothed and scrunched in both mousse and gel, so we'll see what results I get. I always feel bound to point out that whatever I do to my hair, it does not take that long or involve that much fuss --- sometimes that's obvious, sometimes it's not. One advantage to some kind of styler, either gel or mousse, in warm humid weather is that you wind up with a little more shine and a little less frizz than you might otherwise.
Also, I've somehow managed to bite my lip, maybe in my sleep (I don't remember doing it), and have a lovely hematoma as a result. It just kind of looks like I have a weird blueberry stain on my lip, and I'm a little self-conscious about it, but oh well. It will eventually go away, and in the meantime I can just try not to hyperfocus on it. It's faded some since yesterday, anyway.
Wet hair, warm heart, weird lip . . .
Meanwhile, I'm still obsessively collecting images of outfits I like. There's something so mesmerizing, and so satisfying, about looking at clothes. I don't even necessarily want the clothes I'm looking at (though I am taking mental notes about why my eye is drawn to a given outfit). I just like looking at them and thinking about them.
I can still remember, vividly, the 1978 back-to-school issue of Seventeen magazine, which I read like sacred scripture with avidity, but also with a sense of satisfaction and enjoyment, as though I were looking at great art. I was going into the ninth grade, had just gotten my braces off, and was two years into what still returns to me as a heady discovery of the joy of clothes. Having been a completely checked-out, living-in-my-head, vaguely tomboyish horse-girl kind of child, I had emerged simultaneously and unexpectedly into seventh grade and a sudden awareness of how things looked. I still remember, with great nostalgia and fondness, clothes I had in 1977 --- the first clothes I had chosen for myself that I thought were pretty. Of course, it was a good era: the era of Gunne Sax dresses, for example. I still remember spring of eighth grade, all of us in floral sundresses with laced bodices, tiered skirts, and eyelet details. I remember wearing espadrille sandals that laced up the ankle. I remember the Gunne Sax formal dress that I wore to dances in ninth and tenth grades. And on and on. I can also remember, plenty of times, feeling badly dressed --- turning up for something and feeling, horribly, that I had missed the boat in my self-presentation choices. This may say more about my own extremes of feeling than anything in actual reality. But since I was eleven-turning-twelve, I've always had a lot of feelings attached to clothes.
And so it still is. The feeling also persists at the back of my mind, that clothing is trivial and there's something vaguely shameful in an otherwise intelligent woman's going on and on about it. But I think this feeling is false, a Desolation. That doesn't stop my believing it sometimes, or even all the time, at some subclinical level. But it is false. I rebuke it. I enjoy thinking about clothing. I enjoy looking at clothes. I enjoy how clothes look on other people, maybe even more than I enjoy how they look on me.
Here are some things I have enjoyed looking at and thinking about lately:
Knits
I really halfway want to learn to knit, though I think probably I would lose interest fast, and would never achieve the level of artistry I admire in other people. I love the look of so many hand-knit things:
This, for example, with its beautiful subtle play of texture and pattern. And
this. And
this and
this. I would love to dress this way, but there are only so many hours in a day, and realistically, without denigrating myself in the least, I know perfectly well that sewing and knitting would become more projects I never finished, because I was writing instead. There are only so many things I can realistically do, and I know what my levels of willingness are. But wow, I admire these homemade clothes. They're just gorgeous, both as individual pieces and as whole outfits. I'd look
this way every day, if I could. (Also, yes, normalize glasses-wearing older women who are not models as style icons).
Dresses
Not buying any more this year. Nope nope nope. MAYBE for my birthday, but not otherwise. No no indeed. But wow, I see a lot of dresses to love. Florals of many kinds are sending me currently --- I love
this flowy boho dress, for example (actually, I really love this woman's whole style, though not everything she wears is quite what I would wear --- she does make me determined to grow my hair out again, though). But I also love
the simple linen shift here (and can we please normalize non-thin women as style icons ---
she looks beautiful in this dress, too, for example.
And here --- that's not a print I would wear, but I love the lines of the dress, and she looks beautiful wearing it).
This too I really love. And
another lovely linen look.
Skirts
Can't go wrong with Not Perfect Linen. I'm not normally a fan of checks and plaids, but I do like that windowpane top with the beautiful soft-berry-pink skirt. Meanwhile,
this skirt and tee make such a pretty, easy, knock-around look. I also love
this simple A-line wrap skirt. Again, I'm not generally that drawn to square, linear patterns --- I don't much like plaid or checks. But a sweet little blue gingham? Yeah, maybe I could make an exception, especially if my top were not linear, but peasanty and rounded and soft.
Dresses or Smocks Over Trousers
I haven't worn trousers much at all in the last three years, and I don't especially miss them. I mean, now I have a couple of pairs of linen ones, and I do like at least one of them, so I'm not
renouncing anything. But I haven't wanted to wear jeans, mostly because I haven't found a pair that I like the look and feel of on my current body. Some images, though, make me keep my mind open. I love
this woman's whole vibe, for example (and again I say,
normalize normal-looking older women as style icons). I also like outfits like
this and
this. In the second image, the top is more a tunic than a dress, but I like the silhouette.
OK, this is more links, probably, than anyone is ever going to click. And I need to let the dog out and venture into the sunshine for some dopamine.
LUNCHTIME UPDATE:
Well, so. Last night when we went out to walk the dog and also see the Northern Lights without realizing that that was what we were seeing, I put on
this cashmere pullover to ward off the chill that had moved in after all the rain. I had bought this sweater last September in a mountain consignment store with Marly, and since then had hardly worn it at all. In fact, I had to go back to last year's Style photo album to find a photo of it.
I don't know why I pulled it out to wear last night, except that it just looked like what I wanted. It is a very warm sweater, which actually is one reason why I haven't worn it that much --- our weather is just not cold enough for long enough to make wearing a thick cashmere turtleneck an appealing proposition very often. But there are other reasons. I love the color and feel of the sweater, but it's always felt too long to be exactly flattering, and bulky if I tuck it up inside itself to make it look more cropped. AND I just don't like turtlenecks. I really tried with this one, but I don't like the neckline enough (and again, it's rarely cold enough) to reach for the sweater.
Anyway, for whatever reason I did wear it last night, and I left it out on the laundry hamper when I undressed for bed. This morning, as I was putting things away, I was going over it for signs of moth damage, as I have been doing lately, and I found --- holes. Maybe they had been there along along and I'd just forgotten about them, but there they were: two little holes near the hem, and another near the wrist of one sleeve.
Long story short: I took all my sweaters off the closet shelf, sprayed the shelf and the wall behind it thoroughly with neem oil, and now all my wool or cashmere sweaters, with the exception of my alpaca cardigan, which I'm currently wearing ---
--- are bagged up in the deep freeze. Yes, I tumbled everything twice on high heat in the dryer the other day, but still. Can't be too careful. Even my secondhand wool cardigans were investments in their way. Though I didn't pay much actual money for them, I bought them with the intention of wearing them for as much of the rest of my life as possible.
BUT ALSO, I took the opportunity to assess that cashmere pullover, which I have so wanted to love more than I do.
And I thought: I could make this sweater into something I would love more. I can't sew or knit, but I can wield a pair of scissors.
I've done it to t-shirts. I've cropped too-long ones. I've cut out necklines to make them more flattering. Mostly it's worked just fine (yes, you can crop something a little too much, so that it becomes a half-tee that you wear only under things, but live and learn).
Could I do it to a cashmere sweater? WOULD I do it to a cashmere sweater?
Why yes. I could and would. Moreover, I did. I trimmed several inches off the bottom, including the holes. I trimmed about two inches off the wrists, including the hole. I carefully cut along the set-in turtleneck seam, removing the turtleneck (but keeping it for a neck warmer in cold weather).
Now my formerly too-long, bulky, turtleneck pullover is a scoop-neck, bracelet-sleeved sweater that hits at my natural waist without bulk or bunching. Suddenly this sweater is one I want to wear (and if it were colder out, and if I weren't freezing everything to kill moth larvae, I'd be wearing it now). Suddenly this sweater works over a swing dress. Suddenly it will look good with all my skirts. Suddenly the neckline is a lot more flattering. Suddenly this sweater is going in my backpack for Norway.
I guess this was kind of a gamble. I wouldn't have done it to a sweater I'd bought new (not that I have bought a sweater new in at least a decade). I might not have done it if the sweater hadn't developed holes. The holes were really what pushed me to consider this chop job --- what did I have to lose? I could have mended the holes, but did I like the whole sweater enough to bother? Now it's a sweater I really like and will wear, so on the whole, I think my editing of it is a gain, not a loss.
Some people make clothes. I unmake them. But in this case, anyway, I am pleased with the outcome.
AND FINALLY:
Impromptu family night out? No problem.
*Thrifted Loft denim jacket, bought at least five years ago, I think.
