shuttering p&pg

A quick note to those kind folks who read my musings -- I'll be shuttering the blog for a while, maybe permanently. It's unfortunately ended up on the "things to worry and feel guilty about" list, which I am working hard to reduce to an absolute minimum. Thanks so much for reading and commenting over the past two months!

AB

In preparation...

On Wednesday, my loyal and intrepid friend Lizzie is joining me at J Jill somewhere in suburban Philly for a marathon try-on session. This will be a sort of pre-audition -- I'm auditioning J Jill as the preferred or perhaps sole designer/store/catalog to take over my closet in 2010. This will of course mostly be a totally fun adventure with Lizzie, particularly as it will be void of any pressure or even possibility of buying anything (please, if you know the salespeople at the English Village J. Jill - don't say anything!). And yet.

And yet, I find I'm still anxious about doing the retail store, live-and-in-person, look-at-stuff-on-the-racks-and-then-try-them-on thing. I'm pretty good at a lot of things (standardized tests, making popovers, reading Jane Austen aloud in a kick-ass British accent), but I'm just so bad at shopping. I'm hoping to take Mindful Me along with Regular Me and try to examine this reluctance and insecurity more closely. What's there to be scared of?

Well,

1. Snooty salespeople who make you feel like a grungy and unworthy teen pawing through the racks.
2. Exuberant overly helpful salespeople who really, really want you to buy something.
3. The prices.
4. Not knowing what looks good on  you.
5. Knowing that nothing looks good on you.
6. Uhhh..... color? Fabric? Style?
7. Three-way mirrors + fluorescent lighting in the dressing rooms.
8. Buyer's remorse, which for me sets in before I've even decided to buy something. If I somehow fail to actually have buyer's remorse, then I inevitably stain the garment the first time I wear it.
9. Again, the prices.
10. The creeping, persistent, back-of-the-mind realization that clothes aren't actually transformative. They can't change your life. They don't get your work done for you, or make new friends materialize, or take you out for fancy dinners, or find three extra hours of sleep. At their very very best, they can make your butt look a little smaller, bring some nice color to your cheeks, let you pretend you're a little different from your usual self, feel good against your skin. They can be reliable, comfortable, fun, well-made, creative. But not transformative.

So, on Wednesday morning I will gather up my courage and my good friend Lizzie and we will go see what J. Jill has to offer. I will not look only at the sale rack. I will try to find a color or two that I've never worn before. I will try on some skinny jeans. I will try on things that cost more than $200. Okay, $100. I will let the salespeople accessorize my outfits, and I will let them bring things to me in the dressing room. I will leave empty-handed, for now, but maybe tumble into 2010 with a little more shopping moxie.  A little less fear.

Any advice is welcome.

Today's outfit: Fuzzy stretchy black scoop-necked sweater (some non-QT thrift store, c.2007) & the closest thing I have to cool jeans. Big fuzzy black wool (?) socks.

Oh - and what's the best "trying clothes on for a few hours" outfit? Tights? Pumps? Strapless bra? Elastic-waist pants? white t-shirt? Nude cami? Help!?!

What I really want.

After a year of buying no clothes, what I really need, and yearn for, are some new socks. My entire pathetic sock collection now fits easily into a little 12 X 12 drawer organizer thingy from Ikea. I've been ruthless this year about throwing out any socks with holes, and any orphan socks. I didn't have a stellar sock collection to begin with, so the pickings are super slim. Most of the intact, matched pairs are running peds from my brief marathoning phase in 2007-08.

So, when the purchasing ban is lifted in 2010, I'm going here, and here, and maybe here. I want funky socks, comfy socks, durable socks, fun socks, dressy socks, sleeping socks, funny socks. Lots of socks.

Check out these beauts:

And these:

and, finally,

Related problem: The tights collection is also getting tired. I know there are Spanxx fans, Hue fans, MP fans, folks who swear by their H&M, those who just buy their tights wherever they happen to be (Target, Talbots, Title9).

My hosiery questions:

1. What are orphan socks called in your house (Paul's family always called them "Leppies") and are their rules about retaining or disposing of them?
2. Can adult women 40+ wear striped tights? To work?
3. Should socks contain polyester? What about nylon? What about spandex?
4. Wool socks: Good idea?
5. Knitting one's own socks: Good idea?


Please send links and recommendations and pictures of your favorite socks.

Today's outfit: J Jill yoga pants from the recent clothing swap. J Jill brown cami tank (purchased retail, I believe), gray fleece hoodie from QT. Bliss.

Making it Stickk...

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Eileen is Queen (Guest post!)

A guest blogpost from my sister Jennifer Eremeeva, who just launched her own blog on transatlantic living called Dividing My Time 

According to a recent article in the New York Times, Nora and Delia Ephron’s new play Love, Loss, and What I Wore,” a character muses, “When you start wearing Eileen Fisher, you might as well say, ‘I give up.’ ”

Nothing could be further than the truth as far as I am concerned. 

I purchased my first Eileen Fisher “piece” (not “jacket” or “cardigan” or “perfect black pants” but “pieces”) online in 2002 in a moment of abject panic.  I was organizing a corporate event in New York for a bunch of bankers, and in a moment squeezed between a serious debate on the relative merits of salmon cerviche versus foie gras in phyllo dough, and a polite, but firm conversation with the Events Manager of a Prominent Venue, I realized I needed something to wear to the event.   I was in Moscow, Russia at the time, where they don’t sell anything remotely suitable for Prominent Venues …well, not in my size anyway, so popping out during the lunch hour was not an option.   I can’t recall exactly what made me think of Eileen Fisher, but I quickly honed in on exactly the item I needed: an ivory silk jacket with tiny horizontal tucks and a wide flattering shawl collar.   Perfection. I have since worn it to eight weddings, one funeral and an amazing dinner at Buckingham Palace’s Queen’s Gallery.    

If you find something that works, you stick with it, so I bought more items – or “pieces” as Eileen calls them.   Note that Eileen has done such a service to womankind, that she has been elevated to the rank of using Christian name only, in the manner we refer to Mrs. Child as simply “Julia.”  I became a devotee and then a disciple.  While there are a lot of imitations of Eileen’s unstructured, flowing and flattering designs, none of them can really match her wonderful cut, clear strong colors and beautiful natural fibers.    Very soon, I adjusted my closets appropriately. 

Unlike the author of “Peacock and Poison Green,” I do my purging in bi-annual marathon seasonal spurts: each spring and autumn, I spend one day ruthlessly clearing out my closet: if I haven’t worn it in a year, it leaves the house that evening, so by the Spring of 2003, I’d got rid of everything except my wonderful “pieces,” and I now adhere completely to Eileen's system.  Recently, I started dividing my time between two cities, 5,000 miles apart.   I simply split my Eileen wardrobe into two and now I travel with hand luggage only, since everything on one side of the Atlantic goes with everything else on the other.  Bliss…

I relish the ease of my Eileen-only wardrobe. Each morning, I don the “uniform” base layer: on the bottom, a pair of Eileen’s great gift to womankind: the washable silk crepe trousers: which come in various lengths, and styles: palazzo to leggings, which come in stock colors: black, brown, graphite, white and blue.   You wash them in cold water and they travel very well.   On the top, I put on one of Eileen’s beautifully cut tank tops, in cotton, wool or a longer tunic in silk jersey.  Depending on the day’s activities, I then choose one of the top layers: a long cashmere cardigan or wrap for lunches with my friend Henrietta, a silk jacket for dinners out, or a cotton cardigan or sweatshirt for just hanging out.  In this way, I live Eileen’s promise of being able to go from yoga to dinner, by keeping on my base layer and swapping my tops.

Each month, Eileen introduces specific colors and a few new styles, in addition to continuing the base layer tunics, tanks, camis and the irreplaceable washable stretch silk crepe.    The key thing is this: each piece you add to your Eileen Fisher collection will work with everything you already have, so that means your wardrobe expands exponentially, and, since Eileen’s pieces are very timeless classics, nothing really ever goes out of style. 

Nora and Delia, who are right about so many things, have got Eileen completely wrong.  Closing, I quote a close family friend who describes getting really dressed up as “putting on three entire layers of Eileen Fisher.”  I couldn’t agree more.

Jennifer Eremeeva divides her time between Northampton Massachusetts, (where there is an Eileen Fisher store), and Moscow, Russia (where there isn’t).  She writes about it on her blog “Dividing My Time,” (link to http://web.me.com/meeva101).  She is at work on her first book.

Strong enough for a man...

So, I was getting dressed for Day #1 of  a big conference today, and, as I often do, contemplated the antiperspirant/deodorant situation in the medicine cabinet. I've had this horrendous "stick" of some vanilla chai scented gel (the kind you turn a little crank to dispense, hence "stick" in quotes) for the last 11 months or so. It will not get used up, as hard as I try. It's kind of gross.

Next to said offending stick, was the faithful Old Spice belonging to spouse. Of course, as those of us who spend a lot of time in the underarm maintenance aisle of CVS know, most men's deodorant is *just* deodorant, and most women's deodorant is *also* antiperspirant, and thus has all the gloppy stuff added that plugs up our pores. (I'm not going to weigh in here about the alleged health risks of this pore-plugging process but you can see what NCI has to say about that here.)

Over the course of my underarm-sweating past, I've tried many different kids of AP/DO. The white chalky stuff that leaves skittery trails on your black sweaters. The little "rocks" that are supposed to work just as well as regular AP/DO (not). The all natural Tom's of Maine kind that smells like lavender, but by the end of the day, just smells like you. Like stinky you.  Teen Spirit. Secret ("strong enough for a man but made for a woman"). And yes, the revolting Vanilla Chai Goo That Will Never Get Used Up. Here's what I've decided: the men's stuff is better. I've often used whatever nice men's version my husband has in the medicine cabinet, unless, of course, I *can't sweat* -- like for a job interview, conference, fancy night out, or IRS tax audit. If I can't sweat, I'm back in the Glop-It-Up women's aisle with Vanilla Chai and friends, and hopeless waxy buildup and stains on all my light colored clothes.

Until today. Today, because I am empiricist, I've tried an experiment: Vanilla Chai in one pit, Old Spice in the other. And then off to the conference. As of four o'clock, having just sat through a stifling session in a tiny hotel conference room on sexual lubricant use in older age women (don't ask), I can report that Old Spice is holding its own in both the wetness *and* the odor departments. (For you empiricist sticklers out there -- no, it's not a blinded trial -- I've known all day which pit is which. I'll enlist the kids for a blinded repeat trial tomorrow).

So -- I'm chucking that $5.49 bottomless stick of Vanilla Chai goo. Be gone! I'm shopping the men's aisle from now on.  My new motto: "Strong enough for a woman, but made for a man."

Please, *please* let me know how you cope with this under-theorized but clearly crucial aspect of wardrobe maintenance and self presentation.

Today's outfit: An oft-repeated combo: The peacock blue Gap cable knit sweater that make my boobs look too big (QT, c. 2004), and the dark gray petal skirt (QT, c.2005). Black tights. Masai Barefoot Technology super shoes.

I've got drafts of both the undies and the bra posts underway -- coming soon!

Polyvore rules

Thanks to Tara for sending along this link to a fun site where you can assemble different outfits from different stores to create a "look". Apparently it's a bit addictive.

Apologies for  my long silence, and I'm still planning to do the bra post, I promise.

The Clothing Swap!

Last Sunday afternoon I hosted the much-anticipated neighborhood clothing swap.

Some history: Right before I came up with the idea of the p&pg blog, I thought about all the 2009 clothes that I was getting rid of that were sitting in the basement. Then I thought about my still-pretty-pathetic wardrobe and how even when 2010 rolled around I wasn't going to be able to afford any new ones. Then I thought that there were probably several women in a similar position right here in my own awesome Philly neighborhood. Thanks to our neighborhood parents listserv,  the swap idea was conceived and an invitation issued minutes later. About 15 women responded, but there was great concern about what items in what sizes would be offered -- so another mom (a woman after my own heart - thanks, Jen!) offered to do a Survey Monkey survey to collect and distribute data ahead of time about what people were bringing.

Also, interestingly, I got a lot of questions about the rules of the swap. Was this a one-for-one swap? Would there be a "synchronized start"? Did items need to be dry cleaned and on hangers? Were shoes and accessories also accepted? Gosh - who knew that clothing swaps had gotten so regulated? (Actually, I did -- thanks to Karen's pointing me to  this site about big official swaps). I'll admit that the one-for-one rule was intriguing -- does that mean you only get to take something once someone else takes something of yours? Or that you actually have to negotiate a direct trade with someone? It all seemed a little wonky and fussy. I was just imagining hanging out and drinking wine and maybe trying some t-shirts on.

[By the way, for those of you with a horror of used clothing, this would be a good time to opt out.]

I did suggest to everyone that they wear tank tops or camis for easy-quickie-changie [a hard and fast rule for a QT trip, where dressing room trips are limited to 3 items at a time and then you get back in line, so trying things on in the corner by the sleepwear was key]. I also set my bedroom up as a changing room and wrassled up an extra full length mirror. Guests were asked to bring wine or dessert or an appetizer.

Sunday arrived. Paul and the girls kindly banished themselves from the house, just as the first guest arrived. This could have been awkward - she had her bag o'crap and I had my bag o'crap, but it seemed a bit predatory to just jump right in. But, I just poured us each a drink and we made nice chit chat on the couch. Felt a bit like a first date...Then guest # 2 arrived (Jen, the talented survey queen), and very soon we had a full chattering house. Note - I knew *none* of these women ahead of time. Not many of then knew each other, either. Bags were opened, items were laid out on every conceivable piece of furniture, and trying on commenced. Here's what my family room couch looked like:

Some observations:

Most common brands: Gap. Banana Republic, and all those different Target brands.

Most common items:  (1) Pants (2) t-shirts/tops (3) dresses.  Very few skirts. Do we buy fewer skirts and so have fewer to get rid of? Or do we do a better job of buying skirts and so have fewer to get rid of?

*Lots* of stuff with tags still on. Like, all those Gap chinos on the right arm of the couch in the photo. A teacher who came said she had felt strongly at some point in the past that she needed "Nice Pants To Wear to Work" and had accumulated several pairs in short succession - but she never wears them.

*Lots* of stuff that folks were mildly wistful to see go -- "Oh, I really loved that [silk tunic][denim jacket][pair of hiking shorts][neon green sweatshirt].. but [it's just not me][I never wore it][it never fit right][I have six others at home.]" One woman had recently lost a lot of weight and was ditching her too-big clothes. Several of us (including self) had "skinny" clothes that were just never going to fit again.

Women did seem to get a kick out of seeing other women try their stuff on, and even more of a kick when stuff they brought was scooped up. Is this validating in some way? We quickly realized that items that you found and wanted to keep had to get immediately tucked away safely into your shopping bag, lest someone else scoop it up to try on -- kind of like that pile of books you assemble at the library before you checkout --  you can't leave it carelessly on a table or someone else might grab your copy of Freakonomics or Organizing from the Inside Out.

*Behavior: There was no hair pulling, screeching, tug-of-war, or even nasty looks. Everyone was very well behaved, cheerily supportive of everyone else's choices ("Oh that looks great on you, you should totally take that!"). Maybe we were too supportive? I actually didn't hear anyone say, "You know, I'm not sure that's the best look on you."  All seemed very pleased with their finds. Given the three enormous garbage bags of clothes that got left behind for me to take to the goodwill, it was clear that, on average, everyone left with considerably less than they came with. I wish I had collected better data on # of items brought vs. items taken.  I would estimate it at 15 vs. 5...

My own experience: I was enormously picky about even trying things on, and ended up with just five selections, all of which reflect persistent biases in my clothing acquisition behaviors:

1. Perfect awesome pair of brown J Jill cropped yoga pants. Ideal loungewear, and also ideal for, say, yoga class. That would require going to yoga class, of course. Far and away the best item. As I've said earlier, I'm a sucker for loungewear.

2. White banana republic long sleeve ribbed sweater/tshirt. Boring. Also might itch. Also a teensy bit big. But snatched up because it's such a nice serviceable basic in a neutral color.

3. Black sleeveless cotton tunic(?)/dress(?)/shift. Not sure I'll ever wear this. Maybe as a beach coverup? This is my classic "bad call", but the bad-call-ness of it was ignored due to price = 0.

4. Narrow teal silky scarf, really long, and with really heavy beading at the ends. Tag still on. Looks cool, but when you put in on, the beads turn out to be so heavy that they weight the ends of the scarf down and choke you.  I bought this for the color and the cool beads. However, I ignored, as I often do, the "Beware of items with the tags still on" rule of thrift stores, swaps, and jumble sales. There's a reason those items never got worn.

5. Terrific pair of kick-around-the-house clog/loafer things. [Another good place for people with a particular horror of used shoes within the broader horror category of used clothing to bid farewell]. My error here was the "you can never have too many comfy kick-around-the-house items." Of course you can. I now do.

I put 35 pieces into the swap, almost all acquired at QT or during a particularly long and high-volume spree at a Trenton Goodwill in December 2007.  I think about five of my things were scooped up, almost all by the same woman.

After everyone had found their treasures, there was a nice long group gabfest over wine, apples, scones, chips, and other treats. Not sure if everyone was just being polite or not, but everyone said let's do this again, next time my house, etc. etc. So we will!

It will give me great pleasure to take the three garbage bags of rejects to the Goodwill. But only after my mom picks over the bags. And the girls each pick out an item or two for the dress up box -- for which there are some great candidates: silky lingerie, wacky beaded sundresses, fuzzy angora sweaters.

Quite a ramble, sorry! Let me know if this sounds like your dream afternoon or your worst nightmare (the worst nightmare crowd hopefully checked out six paragraphs ago). Which 10 items in your current closet would you bring to such a swap, and how much would you worry/wonder what those 10 items would communicate about you to 12 women you didn't know? Would it be easier to swap with total strangers or good friends? Can you imagine the men in your life ever doing this in a million years? How honest would you be with each group about whether stuff looked good? Would your threshold for grabbing stuff being higher or lower than at a thrift store or purchasing retail? Is free too easy???? Is used too gross? Or just too sad, too worn, too last year, too someone-else's-mistake.

[And to those of you who were actually there -- did it meet expectations?? Be honest!]

Today's outfit:  Gap peacock blue cable knit sweater (yes, the one that gives me balloon boobs) and a pair of jeans that are either black or blue, can't tell. I hope blue, because my belt was blue. Changed in the evening to attend Admissions Open House at kids' school - swapped out pants for a cute gray petal skirt and my kick-ass black boots. Based on recent observations on Penn campus, I went with sheer stockings rather than the instinctual opaque black tights. New look! Ack! (Julia said, "you look funny, mom".)

Bra post coming next...

Hey, I've got that!

Very quick post as I am off to present some stuff at a meeting:

I just spotted someone in my building with my favorite AnnTaylor LOFT skirt on. I got in on clearance and have never seen it on anyone else, so it was a surprise. How do you feel when that happens? Affirmed? Annoyed? What if you're actually wearing the identical garment at the same time? Do you say something? Does it matter if you know the person or not? How important is it to you that you are the only one wearing something? I was always fascinated by that story (apocryphal?) that anyone attending an event where the Queen of England was going to appear had to submit their outfit ahead of time so she wouldn't have a duplicate on...

Coming soon:
* Report on the clothing swap
* The Bra post

Somebody knows how to spot a bargain

Apologies for the second family-related post today, but I couldn't resist this three-year old blurb from a Delaware pub that features my mom, also a die-hard Quality Thrift shopper whenever given the opportunity. My sincere thanks to friend and lurker J for finding this gem:

Eek! Zoom! Nobody channeled Audrey Hepburn at the motorcycle-themed Born 2B Wild: A Black T-shirt Affair. Biker chic and biker chicks held sway at this scene, the annual benefit for DCCA. “What If the Hokey Pokey Is Really What It’s All About?” was the existential question on the T-shirt worn by Lora Englehart, publicist at Brandywine River Museum. Art-boosters Lynn and John Wigton arrived in gleaming Harley-Davidson gear, as did many others—an homage to Mike and Debbie Schwartz, owners of Mike’s Famous dealership, who were honorary co-chairs. “Like my necklace? I got it at the hardware store today,” Alice Hupfel of Chadds Ford ’fessed about her linkage. Anna Francis of Cochranville, Pennsylvania, polished off her tattooed torso with a rock-star wig. “Yeah, go ahead and feel it. You won’t be the first,” she quipped. We chatted up Gina Marsilii, whose new biz is permanent makeup, and her friend Andrea Derrick of Newark. Gina, always a live wire, outdid herself in dangling satellite earrings “that have their own weather system,” as she put it. (Gabby just loves it when someone else writes her fashion copy.) Certain biker dudes took a back seat to nobody, sartorially. Bill Shea, a past president of DCCA, nailed that “Leader of the Pack” look in gila monster boots from Arizona and a vintage leather jacket. Dentist Milton Isaacs of Arden, whose daughter Susan Isaacs is adjunct curator of DCCA, played against type in a “Rebel With a Cause” T-shirt. A certain ladylike contingent shunned roadster garb for the safe middle lane—Julie Von Blarcom, Danielle Rice and Jan Jessup, all in long black skirts. The sequined butterfly T-shirt that writer Frances Buttenheim said she bought for $1.99 at Quality Thrift in Claremont, California, showed somebody knows how to spot a bargain. The night’s apocryphal va-va-voom trophy went to blonde Pat Barron of Wilmington, a head-turner in black leather cap, electric blue shades, chain belts and skinny pants. When the band Go Van Gogh played “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction,” the song didn’t apply to anyone at Born 2B Wild.

I've actually always been fascinated by the "society pages" of newspapers large or small, haute or hoi polloi... I always scan those silly montages at the front of Philly Mag, Town & Country or in the Styles section of the NYT to see what wealthy and/or event-attending people that I don't know are wearing these days. And how many more dresses like that do they have at home? And what in God's name would I wear if I had to go to the Diabetes Fundraiser/Museum Gala/Masked Ball???  I know what my mom would wear: the sequined butterfly t-shirt! (BTW - she clearly should have won the "apocryphal va va voom trophy"for the evening described above....I want me some va-va-voom...)

Mom: please do a post for us about the butterfly t-shirt & and the TSE sweater as the bookends of the QT experience...

The men weigh in, Part I.

My dad (nice preppy guy, age 67) read the whole blog yesterday, and comments:

My clothes idea is simple. If it worked in the 50s -- and it is still in one piece -- then fashion will come back around to it.

Note -- this applies to underwear, socks, collar shirts, chino pants, blazers, herringbone jackets, and London Fog raincoats.

I guess it is easier to be a guy....

I'm not sure I can add anything to that!  Dad likes to do all his own clothes shopping, and suffers lots of grief from daughters and wife about some of his picks. Positive reinforcement appears to work well -- a well-placed compliment can shape future purchases pretty reliably. He does stick pretty close to the categories listed above, and his vendors of choice run to Lands End, LLBean, Norm Thompson,  etc. My sister and mother have purchased some wonderful things for him in the past few years, which he wears with pride. The last thing I bought for him (not counting several t-shirts emblazoned with names of various educational institutions, which are really his uniform of choice) was a particularly hideous argyle acrylic sweater, a Christmas present c.1983 purchased in the menswear dept of Bessie Clarke in Pittsfield, MA. He wore it for several years, bless his heart.

Let me know about your Dad's clothing habits, and his opinions (if any) of yours.

A couple of housekeeping details:

1. You will notice that banner ads have crept onto the blog. Rest assured I'm not doing this for the cash (I earn approximately 1 cent per day, which means I should receive my first $100 check in approximately March, 2039) but rather to see how google ads decided which advertisers to send my way. Specifically, I'm curious if the brands that I mention (and label each post with) get picked up. Any thoughts about this (or rants to abolish the banner ads) are welcome.

2. Paul has informed me that all good bloggers respond to comments with additional comments to keep the convo going. My apologies for failing to observe proper blogger etiquette. (@Erin: This may have prompted your FB question about whether I was actually reading the comments??). From now on, expect comments.

3. Hey all you lurkers out there: post some comments! Or at least send me some email that I can post.

NYT on the twinset

I'm a big fan of the twinset concept, though I note in current closet that I'don't own one. Maybe I've never owned one?? So maybe I'm not a fan. Or maybe they are too hard to find in thrift stores? Or I'm too cheap to buy cashmere (like this Talbots number below)?

Or the Lands End cotton sweater palette never got me excited?

Well, for whatever reason, I'm twin set-less, but still intrigued/tempted, so was glad to see this little nugget in the back page of the NYT Sunday fashion magazine. (I can't get the cool accompanying picture to post, sadly.)

A Double Whammy | The quiet twin set, a British classic, packs a one-two punch.

O.K., so it’s a classic. Some would call it, like the tuxedo jacket or the little black dress, one of fashion’s most iconic pieces. It came to light in the 1940s when, because of the war and burgeoning modern life, items like the floor-length tea gown became less of an option. But it was in the ’50s that the twin set met its moment. Think of any movie or TV show set back then. Did every woman really, truly wear it every day? I find it hard to believe because here’s the truth: yeah, they work if you’re Grace Kelly or January Jones. If your shoulders are narrow and your waist even smaller and you have the sort of radiant beauty that transforms something inherently plain into the epitome of chic. (Tilda Swinton, check! Dame Judi Dench, check! The Duchess of Devonshire, check!) But if you’re a mere mortal like me, wearing a cardigan over a matching short-sleeve sweater risks making you looking like an elderly aunt from the pages of P. G. Wodehouse. Which makes me all the more envious of all those utterly unflappable, self-confident beauties, who don a twin set (like the Pringle of Scotland one at left) and look implacably terrific. DAISY GARNETT

So - are you a fan? Do you own 12 or none? Do you agree with Daisy Garnett that it takes a certain type? (If you're interested, eBay has ~1600 twinsets for sale....)

Meanwhile - stay tuned: The neighborhood clothing swap starts in 6 hours. Apparently ~15 women are coming. Should be interesting...

sleep tight...or loose.

Well, my FB post today about getting 11 hours of sleep got a very positive reaction, so I decided to write about sleepwear tonight (before going to bed at a very reasonable hour).

Where to begin? Well, like many of you, my early sleepwear consisted of little polyester sleepy footie jammies. Then there was the long series of scratchy polyester themed nightgowns (Snoopy, Holly Hobbie, Wonder Woman). Luckily, these got replaced in my household c.1981 by "Lanz of Salzburg" flannel nightgowns. We called these "flannie nighties", and I always preferred to wear them backwards (buttons in front). We wore them until they were smooth, pale shadows of their formal selves, and then we used them to polish the silver and got a new one for Christmas. Lovely. (Side note: Maddeningly, you cannot buy the same nightgowns for your daughter because they are now made only in crappy flame retardant blech stuff. If anyone has a source for good old plain unretarded flannel nightgowns for kids, let me know. Until then, they're in equally-flammable but super soft Hanna Andersson long johns.).

At some point, though (Paul reports that it was well after college), I switched to the top-and-bottom form of sleepwear, aka jammies. I think I got tired of battling the leg-wrap-n-trap problem of long nightgowns, and also started enjoying the option of wearing my jammies for most of the day on weekends, which isf frankly just a little harder to pull off in a flowered nightgown. Once I had the babies, nighttime nursing seemed easier in a two-piece rig as well.

While I have owned and still do own some nice matching jammies (similar to this Garnet Hill pair, e.g.)

most of my sleepwear now consists of just really soft old t-shirts (LS in winter, SS or tank in summer) and drawstring cotton pants that, I will admit, mostly came from QT. None of it is remotely stylish, cute, charming, insouciant, alluring, beguiling, or anything else (besides really comfortable) that sleepwear could, in theory, be. Am I missing an opportunity here? How might my life be different if I had some of those awesome bedtime outfits that Betty Draper has? If we believe our clothes "say something" about who we are, what does schlumpy mismatched sleepwear say? I don't think I want to know...

In the meatime, those crafty clothing companies have figured out that we like to wear our jammies all day and also, a la Fred Rogers and Don Draper, we want to shed our work clothes as soon as we get home at the end of the day. So they invented loungewear.  Loungewear is so handy! You can sleep in it, of course. You can wear it for what my younger daughter calls a "home potato" day - those rainy cold weekend days where you don't have to leave the house for any reason.  You can wear it to yoga class, drive the kids to school in it, walk to the dog, and curl up on the couch with either your morning coffee or you late night martini. Almost all the major clothing companies some kind of loungewear line which is distinct from both their sleepwear and their workout gear.  I note, though, that there is a considerable variation in the fanciness of so-called loungewear. The stuff that J. Crew calls "weekend lounge" is dressier than 80% of my wardrobe. I guess they mean "to go out to a cocktail lounge" rather then "lounge around the house on Friday night eating coffee ice cream at catching up on four days' worth of the NYT".   Gap loungewear falls under the broader "Gap Body" line, and is more the lightweight hoodies and wide-waistbanded drawstring floppy pants of my loungewear ideal. (Note that Gap even has a maternity loungewear line!) J. Jill has no loungewear that I could find - odd. Target appears to allocate approximately 14% of its floorspace to loungewear. I ducked in to AnnTaylor LOFT today (or do we just call it "LOFT" now?) and investigated their "lounge" line  - all stretchy black & white & grey, and frankly a little "gym" for my tastes. I like my lounge more jammies than jumping jacks.  Victoria's Secret clearly agrees with me, as they pair the two in sleep + lounge line...

In reviewing my "jammies drawer" (yep, it's actually called that), I see that I've just blended my loungewear and sleepwear. If and when I buy clothes again, I think I'm going to upgrade the loungewear -- I crave those fleecy buttery soft gray pants that pair perfectly with a silky stretch cami and chenille hoody. Ummmm....can't wait. But upgrading the actual sleepwear???? Probably not.

My sleepwear questions for you:

1. What do you wear to bed and why?
   
2. If you share a bed, what does your bedmate think of your sleepwear? At the risk of TMI, are there any occasions for alternative forms of sleepwear?
   
3. How far outside of the house (and outside of sleeping hours) will you wear your sleepwear? (Front stoop to pick up a paper? Down the block to mail a letter? In the car to drop your kid off at school?)
   
4. Is there a loungewear/sleepwear distinction in your wardrobe?
   
5. Where do you get your sleepwear? Did some or all of your sleepwear have a former life as regular clothes?
   
6. Are there any must-wear or won't-wear fabrics or formats?
   
7. And...if you're willing to share: undies or no undies with sleepwear? (Did your mom ever tell you that your body has to "breathe" at night?)
   

How to blow a G

One myth I cling to is that my wardrobe would be better if I just had a lot more money. I realize that this myth implies that, along with untold riches, I would also have unerring taste and a few fewer pounds & inches. As I am an empiricist, I can relabel this myth a "hypothesis" and subject it to a rigorous test.

So -- I'm giving myself 15 minutes to purchase* $1000 worth of merchandise at Boden and will then evaluate whether this is a wardrobe-transforming event.

Okay, here I go:

First up: p&pg shirt. I will later regret that it has LS instead of 3/4 sleeve, but I guess I could have those altered.

Next: Let's get it in white, too, since my  existing white t-shirts failed the RS basics test.

This is a poor use of my wardrobe-transforming $1000, but I can't resist the loungewear.

This is the most un-me thing but I kind of love it. Can I wear it over jeans?

Yum. Perfect.

And in this color, too, please.

SO Michelle O! (I get the haircut and color, too, right??

This is black, not grey.

I almost bought this one in the wrong shade of green but saved myself at the last minute. I think this is a spring red -- yes? I like the length.

Fun! (this item is actually called "fun skirt")

Cute dots.

DONE! $1000 exactly. 11 items. I should have been on Price is Right.

So - what have I got? 2 t-shirts, five sweaters, 2 skirts, and some jammie pants. I'm not sure any of the sweaters go with the teal & brass skirt. I think they could all go with the dot skirt. I didn't buy any pants. I couldn't really tell what they looked like from the pictures.  I definitely felt the urge to buy multiple versions (colors) of shapes I liked. (Uniform?)  Assuming one had a decent existing set of nice jeans & cords, this could certainly spruce things up for fall/winter. But transform? Meh.

Is ample cash either necessary or sufficient for stellar wardrobe? Does it maybe actually get in the way? Would I have done noticeably better at a thift store or even upscale resale/consignment? (Can you imagine the $1,000 thrift store pile?) Does blowing a G on nice stuff take you to a new level, or just reinforce bad habits? Would a $1000 worth of great restaurant meals have provided more pleasure? What about $1000 in the kids' college fund? Give this experiment a try at your favorite website or with your favorite catalog and let me know how it goes. N=1 is too small a sample size.

T.O.: Best of the current five pairs of jeans, peacock Gap ls t-shirt (too small), fave poison green cardigan, poison green fleece vest. (still wearing vest inside - it's cold).

*ok, not purchase. I use "place item in online shopping cart" as a proxy for "purchase." A true field test would provide stronger evidence.

A daughter's indictment...

This poem was carefully folded up in Julia's (age 7) backpack last week:

I know all about fashon

Why dont you like fashon?

You hate fashon dont you

Why dont you like fashon? You will grow into it

You dont get fashon

 I'm not sure this had anything to do with me or the blog, but it seemed so fitting. She's right! I don't! Maybe I will grow into it.

At some point, not tonight,  I want to write more about this NYT piece on Eileen Fisher . Still hoping my sister will write about her "EF Only" plan.

Tonight was the first time this fall that I wore fleece. My friend C says that her growing fleece collection is the first sign of a deteriorating wardrobe. "My sleepwear is nicer than my fleece - this is a problem." My proposed solution? Why not sleep in fleece???

T.O.: Pale pink (yes, I know) wide wale cords. NY & Company (eBay, 2007), J.Jill brown 3/4 sleeve t-shirt I didn't wear this weekend, cool scarf made of Kimono fabric scraps that my mothers found friend at a church sale, I think.

 

Inductive wardrobing

What do we want our clothes to do for us?

I'm traveling this weekend, and it was with greater-then-usual mindfulness that I packed my suitcase on Thursday night. What was going in the suitcase (actually a tote bag) and why?  Here were some competing priorities that had to be optimized:

1. Fit everything for 3 nights + 3 days into a tote bag.
2. Have suitable outfits for a range of events: two nice-ish dinners out, one meeting with colleagues, running around with kids, airplane travel, etc.
3. Accommodate an uncertain weather forecast  -- maybe rain, maybe cold, maybe hot.
4. Oh, and look nice. Feel fashionable. Feel comfortable. (Are these three mutally exclusive?)

Here's what I ended up with:
Long swirly blue skirt + Blue 3/4 sleeve t-shirt that almost matches it
Brown J.Jill tank + brown button down shirt + cropped brown tencel pants + brown 3/4 sleeve J.Jill t-shirt. ( I wore the pants almost every single day on a 3-week trip to Hawaii - they are awesome).
Two scarves
One red SS v-neck t-shirt

So -

1. It all fit in the tote bag, with room for jammies and toothbrush but not for knitting
2. I was underdressed for my meeting at Duke, but ok for everything else.
3. I've been either cold or hot for most of the weekend.
4. Only comfortable. Not the other two. Also - a lotta brown.

This is when I start to consider the "only one designer" fashion system approach. My sister has promised to write a guest blog post about her transition to "Eileen Fisher only". She argues that it makes both shopping and getting dressed very easy - everything matches/coordinates with everything else, etc. It's so tempting! It also seems to go along with the Real Simple must-haves approach: Follow this set of rules or acquire this list of items and you will have all the ingredients you need. It's both deductive and potentially reductive, right?

I initially thought that Wardrobe Project II (2010) would take that form: Choose one designer (I favor J.Jill or Boden at this point), acquire 3-4 pieces per season, and dump 10-12 other non-compliant items at the same time. It wouldn't take long to do a complete changeover. In reality, I have neither the budget nor the conviction to go this route. Is there another way?

Reading through everyone's comments on earlier posts, I notice:
1. Many of us have decided our wardrobes are blah, boring, tired, lack color.
2. At the same time, we know what we like, what works for us, etc. We have several treasures in our closets that work really well.
3. When we are contemplating the deaccession decision, we're pretty clear about what should stay and what should go.
4. We crave wardrobes that work harder for us, that accomplish some of those intangible transformative functions, but lack time, money, and maybe confidence to acquire those wardrobes overnight.

I also loved Lea's comments about "shopping her own closet" after pulling some pages from the Boden catalog that reflected her concept of what looked good, what would suit her. I totally do "basement shopping" with the kids when the seasons turn, but haven't thought of this cool extension for myself.

So...all of the above has hatched an idea I call "inductive wardrobing".  Can we reflect on what we've got in the closet, what we're drawn to in catalogs or store windows, photographs of ourselves or mirror checks that make us think, "Hey, that  looks good!", and compliments we've received--- and from *those* data draw up a set of principles or guidelines for future purchases, outfit assemblage, or suitcase packing?

I just spent 2.5 minutes sitting with my eyes closed contemplating this, and came up with a few rules:

1. I strongly prefer 3/4 sleeves.
2. I like v-neck tops, preferably in darkish colors
3. Cropped pants rule - better than shorts or long pants
4.  I love Jackie/MadMen era jackets - cropped, big buttons, 3/4 sleeve, interesting collars. Ditto for cocktail dresses.
5. Skirts need to be just at knee or longer, either A-line, bias cut, or narrower if they go with a jacket. Big swirly skirts are ok with a simple, slim top.
6. Sleeveless dresses/tops are *not* so good (Michelle O I'm not). Some exceptions apply, usually if the neckline is interesting, drapy, boat-necky, etc.
7. I favor "ethnic" tops and outfits (Indian mostly)

Could this replace the RS list? What proportion of unsuccessful clothing purchases in the past 10 years could have been avoided if these guidelines were stuck to? (And, related, how much of current wardrobe could be chucked to comply with above?). Also - I realize that I am still basically a color idiot and have no certainty/confidence about what colors work. (Despite my mother & sister's best efforts. Apparently I'm a "spring".)

So -- will you give it a go? Try a 10-minute inductive wardrobing session and tell us what principles/insights emerge!

ThredUp - what do you think?

Thanks to Lisa Lee for sending this link to a NYT bits blog about high-tech clothing swaps. I'm traveling with the family this weekend so that's all for today -- tell me what you think about ThredUp. We're doing a neighborhood mom's real life swap next week -- more on that later.

What Real Simple says I need...

I do love Real Simple, and feel like I can take a little mini-vacation when it arrives every  month. Nothing in it *is* actually all that simple, but I love pretending that I too could get my kids out the door in the morning or remake an unused closet into a home office or prepare a month of lovely nutritious dinners with one trip to the supermarket. The "aha!" uses for ordinary household items also cracks me up.

So, I was curious to revisit an article I remembered about a wardrobe basics checklist. 

"Maybe," I thought, "this is the root of the problem with my haphazard cheap-o thrift store jumble  - I lack the basics!"

Well -- let's peer into Alison's closet and see: 

Always in Season

Black tank. A white tank has its place—at the gym or on casual outings—but a black one is more universal. Dress it up with dark jeans or a skirt.

 Bought one @ Victoria's Secret a few years ago. Too small, too tight, but also too long. weird racer back. Can't wear it under button-down shirts like CJ Cregg on West Wing Score: 0

Short-sleeved white T-shirt. White tees become unwearable quickly, so skip the costly designer versions and buy a bunch of good-looking inexpensive ones. Then replace as needed.

So - if you only shop at thrift stores, your white t-shirts start out with a disadvantage. Most of mine have migrated to the jammies/workout drawer. I see the advantage of finding a brand/cut you really like and just buying a dozen. Do my three decent long-sleeve white shirts count? Score: 0

Short-sleeved black T-shirt. The best short-sleeve length is about 1/2 to 1 inch longer than a typical cap sleeve—it shows just the right amount of arm. 

I have an OK three-quarter sleeve one, but no SS. Also, not sure I look great in black Score: 0

Long-sleeved white T-shirt. For a trim silhouette in white, choose a slim-fit T-shirt that skims your body but doesn't cling. 

Aha! Yes! Have one. In all honesty, it's a little too tight and too sheer to wear alone, but great for layering. I have a nice chunkier one, 3/4 sleeve for on its own. Score: 1

Long-sleeved black T-shirt. A surprisingly sophisticated layering piece, this works well under a dress shirt—or even a dress. 

Under a dress shirt? Really? Above mentioned black 3/4 sleeve is strictly casual. Score: 0.5

Black turtleneck. Consider investing in cashmere: You get more warmth with less bulk. 

I hate turtlenecks. (I do like cashmere, though.) Score: 0

White button-down shirt. A fitted one will get the most wear: It's easier to tuck in and looks neat when left out.

I love mine. It has longish tails. Purchased @ QT. I had to wear it two days in a row this week (long story), and it held up pretty well. Score: 0.75

Crisp white blouse. Softer looking than a button-down, a white blouse is a timeless addition to any wardrobe. 

Crisp? No. (I don't really iron). Nothing that could be called a "blouse" really lives in my closet. Score: 0

Crewneck sweater. Thin knits, in cotton or wool, layer easily for versatility and comfort. 

Oooh! ooh! Yes, I have couple of these. One peacock green, one black. Both from QT, both a little tight. Both get worn all the time. Score: 2

Cardigan. A neutral shade goes with everything, and a longer style that hits at the hip flatters most figures. 

Is poison green neutral? Mine is not "longer style" - it's a 3/4 sleeve (do we hear a pattern here?) cropped one with big buttons. LOVE it. It's getting pilly. Score: 0.75

A black dress. The “little black dress” is a cliche for a reason: It’s a wardrobe necessity. 

I have two, both exceedingly formal (one spaghetti strap floor length velvet, one awesome boatneck MadMen/Jackie O style. They get worn less than once per year, so this is not what RS is talking about. Score: 0

Pencil skirt. This classic piece should be tailored so it grazes the tops of the knees. 

I'm not sure my butt is designed for a pencil skirt. I have a lot of skirts, a couple of them fit ok. Most of the ones that "graze the tops of the knees" are bias cut swirly skirts. Score: 0

Jeans. It's worth paying extra for jeans that fit and flatter. Your best bet? A pair made from stretch denim with no more than 2 percent Lycra. (The fabric will follow your curves while keeping its shape.) 

See JN's and Amy's comments about jeans. Clearly this is something like face cream and undergarments that require more thought and a larger budget as we get older. So I have ~5 pairs of jeans, all thrift store. I've sort of named them in my head (do you do this?) -- there's the Saturday pair and the Suburban Mom pair (high waist, cropped), the Suck It In pair, etc. The current set has survived multiple purges so I must wear all of them relatively frequently. I think the Banana Republic pair fits best. Score: 5 pairs, discounted for less than optimal fit = 2.

Black pants. To get the most from this wardrobe staple, select a style made of an all-season fabric, like tropical wool or viscose. 

Hillary! You rock! I have 2 pairs - one goes with my bought-in-7-minutes-before-an-interview Anne Klein suit (not a great fit) and the other is a lightweight polyester pair that I wear all the time. Meh. They're ok. Score: 0.75

Skinny jeans. Once considered a trend, they are now a denim staple. Skinny jeans look best when they don’t fit too snugly at the waist.

I will confess here that I don't know what "skinny jeans" are. Are they supposed to make you look skinny? Or do they have ittle skinny legs? Don't have either. Score: 0

Khaki pants. For a casual, comfortable look, forget the pleats (a flat front is more flattering) and forgo the front crease. 

Yes! Have 2 pairs: regular and cropped. Both flat front! (Both QT) The cropped pair is particularly awesome. Can go to the office in the summer. Score: 2

Denim jacket. A dark wash and a slim fit look the most polished. 

I have a velvet jacket that's cut like a jeans jacket. Does that count? It doesn't really fit. Score: 0.5

Cropped jacket: Made famous by Coco Chanel, this item has become a fashion mainstay. You’ll have more opportunities for pairing with one in a solid color or traditional tweed. 

During my bright college years, I could still fit into an amazing suit of my mother's - made for her in Paris in 1961. 3/4 sleeve, cropped, matching skirt (maybe a pencil skirt?) It's now in a bin waiting for my girls to grow into it. Sigh. My recent suit purchase (AnnTaylor, black & white polka dot) has a cropped jacket but I can't imagine wearing it with anything but the skirt. Score: 0

Black cashmere wrap. A fabric that was once seen only in fall and winter has become a year-round regular. 

Like a pashmina? Just a big rectangle of fabric? I have a lot of wraps but not black. Score: 0

OMG, that's only the "always in season" list. There are also season-specific lists, maybe I'll tackle the rest of the list another time. Total score so far: 9.25/17. Hmmm...

So - what do we think? Is this what every woman really needs in her closet? Is this what grown ups wear? Would I face the "nothing to wear" demons much less frequently if I had all of this? 


Does following this kind of list turn us into drab uniform-wearing automatons?  Can we make up our own basics list? Have a different uniform? How do you alter or build on such a list to have your own personal style?

And -- where would I go to fill these holes? Is there a one-stop shop? How much would I need to do it right??

T.O.: Brown embroidered skirt from last QT trip (Fall 08), SS blue Ann Taylor t-shirt (doesn't fit). Was supposed to bring my red J.Jill shirt to change into at work (my walk is long and sweaty) but forgot it - so had to throw above-mentioned white dress shirt on over blue t-shirt. (I had left the white shirt at work by accident). Frump.O.Rama. Also -went to bed with wet hair so the complete picture was not what you'd call "pulled together".