Category Archives: Fashion

I am such a sucker for online ads these days. I’ve been toying with a colorful Saks Fifth Avenue kimono for the past few weeks, watching it dip below $500 then $319 before wisely giving up on such nonsense when I’m on display for all of two people. (One of whom is myself.)

But when I saw this sweet little plaid holiday mantle, and at a very reasonable $165 from Ralph Lauren, I quickly clicked and looked for the button to plop it in my cart. I hit the size option and then something odd happened, it just said 2-6x. Now, figuring this was a woman’s item, I was going to try a 2XL if that was the smallest they had – besides, in a poncho, bigger is always better.

Turns out this was a girl’s item. I guess 2-6x is a kid’s size thing.

PS – Fuck the internet.

And he earns his namesake in this month’s ‘Vogue’ cover story. He impressed me with his red-carpet turn at the Met Gala a couple seasons back when he wore something sheer and frilly by Dior, and since then he’s been gleefully gender-bending his sartorial choices in the most glorious fashion. I’m thinking I may be alive after all to witness the day when men in dresses aren’t that big a deal. About damn time. 

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means – it just becomes this extended part of creating something.” ~ Harry Styles

I haven’t dressed up in months. 

We haven’t had occasion to do so.

But it’s nice to remember what it’s like to put on a fancy pair of shoes and a dinner jacket.

I’ve only had one haircut since winter, and I’m almost due for another, but I find myself less interested in maintaining the perfect coif these days. A similarly strange phenomenon has happened with my clothing choices – hence this stringy tank top that I would have scoffed at a mere six months ago – as much from the winter cold as for its cheese-factor. Now, it’s just the most comfortable and relaxed piece of clothing when I’m working in the garden or lunching on the patio. My entire wardrobe has undergone a comparable transformation, something I attribute as much to the summer season as to the new/old work-from-home situation that continues.

‘Summer hair, don’t care‘ is a mantra I’ve recently embraced, and this relaxed attitude has seeped into what I wear as well. In fact, it will be difficult to get back into the ties and button-down shirts that fall and work customarily require. There was an article in the New York Times that described an analogous shift in fashion, in the way its importance and influence has waned during this pandemic, and the way the entire fashion world has changed, possibly forever. It wasn’t as mournful as I expected it to be, not unlike this quiet summer.

It’s a new world, and embracing it is easier than holding on to antiquated traditions. Learning to let go is a lesson of summer that might do well to inform the coming fall…

I’ll never be a guest at the Met Gala, but every year I watched faithfully to see what everyone wore on the red carpet for the up-until-now annual event that took place on the first Monday of May. Like most things this spring, and probably most of the summer, the Met Gala was canceled due to our current state of affairs. That meant we missed out on fashion’s most important night (yes, the Met Gala gorgeously beats out the Oscars and every other red carpet night). 

There was some sort of online hashtag challenge this year to dress up and post pics online but I didn’t quite care enough to look into it with any seriousness. Instead, I pulled this canary ruff out of the attic closet and propped it up behind a head of hair that I left unruly and spiky in avant garde honor. I needed something sunny and bright, something equal parts Big Bird and Phyllis Diller and Lemon Party. Those who attempt to create beauty, even when they fail, are bound to something gorgeously noble. 

It turns out this ‘Weird Science’ post wasn’t my first foray into the crop top. For a Valentine’s Day shoot I did with Andy many, many years ago, I slipped into these 80’s-inspired looks and held a bottle of beer to add to the trashy scene we hoped to conjure. It exemplified an opposites-attract vibe, while playing up people’s perceived images of what we were like together. (Nothing is what it seems.)

As the world grows ever-darker around us, we need these moments of play and memory. They illuminate the blackest of hallways, lighting the way around the shadiest corners. They give laughter and life to days in which many of us are struggling to find that touchstone of humor. I never expected that half a wig and a trucker’s cap would lift my spirits, but here we are. It’s a brave new world. Hang onto your hats. And your crotches.

When the time is fraught with danger and uncertainty, I find myself looking back to such vintage moments and remembering how things used to be. It’s strange and unsettling, and probably to the best way of coping. My usual stance is looking unflinchingly forward to the future. That keeps me going. But when that path is laden with doubt, perhaps these vintage recollections aren’t entirely bad. Happy memories can fortify the heart in unhappy times. 

With many of us working from home these days, I have a feeling that some have given in to the comfort and ease of not having to dress up or make themselves the least bit presentable, and I just want to send out this plea to the universe that you STOP IT IMMEDIATELY. We are better than this. We are so much better than this. Just because no one’s going to be seeing you is no reason to give in to laziness and destructive habits. Rail against the death knell of sweats and slippers! 

On my first day of working from home, I toned it down with a Tallia tracksuit, patterned with chrysanthemums and cranes, and a spritz of ‘Black Saffron’ by Byredo. It’s in the same cozy vein as Tom Ford’s ‘Tuscan Leather’ which was perfect for the snowy day on which it was applied. In addition to looking good, one should smell good too. Don’t give up, people. Don’t let me down. Let’s lift it. You’ll feel better, I promise. 

Have you ever had a project you were working on that you didn’t want to end? It may have started off as a chore, but along the way you grew to love it, and by its completion you realized part of you didn’t want it to end? Maybe it was a really good book that you enjoyed so much you rushed through it, rapidly turning the pages until the last chapter, or a television series that you paused binge-watching midway through because you wanted to make it last. Such was the happy conundrum I found myself in when I was nearing the end of finishing a coat for our upcoming trip to New York.

Doing my best to curb some shopping and trying a new turn at sustainability (yawn), I’ve been recycling outfits and wardrobe instead of buying new things, and part of that involved updating a floral embroidered coat that I’ve worn for special times like anniversaries in Boston. With the bright lights of Broadway beckoning with ‘Plaza Suite’, a celebration of Skip’s birthday, an intimate performance by Betty Buckley at the Cafe Carlysle, and a weekend at the Plaza, I wanted something that would sparkle. While this coat had more than enough pizzazz to make a statement, updating it for a new decade meant pushing it completely over the top, with a few pounds of crystal beads employed for the revamping. With its floral pattern already outlined, it was just a matter of matching the beads to their background. It would be a heavy undertaking, and I understood the cost and labor and time involved in a single item of clothing that is so embellished. There was a valuable lesson in that.

In a dire winter, sewing each crystal bead onto the coat became an act of sanity, a thread connecting the otherwise-wayward days and nights into a singular purpose, taking my eyes off other troubling concerns and giving me a pretty focus with a goal that suddenly felt secondary to the act itself. It felt good crawling into bed at the end of a long sewing session, my fingers aching in the best possible way, reminding me of work done well, of a sense of accomplishment. Slowly but consistently, I worked diligently at my task, beneath the bright task lighting in the basement, beside the fire, returning to a few seasons of ‘Schitt’s Creek’, the iconic ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ with Marilyn Monroe, and a double-viewing of Tom Ford’s ‘A Single Man’ playing in the background. The coat grew in fabulousness, as well as tangible weight. After every session, I would slip it on, turning in the mirror to see what was left to do, witnessing and thrilling at how the beads were catching and throwing off the light. As the floral design was encrusted with crystals, I realized I was nearing the end.

The last part involved replacing the buttons. Strangely, when the coat came into my possession, it had these old, worn, brown wooden buttons completely at odds with the style and color of the coat itself, and probably thrown on when one of the original buttons went missing. Instead of buttons, as I didn’t intend to button this coat, I used large faceted crystals in shades of amethyst and emerald. As the final beads went on, and I neared the last part of the embellishment process, I found myself slowing and stalling. I understood I didn’t want it to end.

I also understood that I would need a new project soon. A night in New York is over far too quickly, no matter how brightly one may sparkle.

These are two pairs of holiday pants.

Some would say they’re my ‘Go-to-Hell’ pants.

As in, “If you don’t like them, you can go-to-hell.”

I’ll take both descriptions and own them.

I’m also going to wear the fuck out of these puppies this year because I finally fit my ass back into them thanks to a regimen of cutting out alcohol and eating what basically amounts to bird food. You know what they say: nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. 

I’m kidding, partly. I just finished off a bunch of pecan pralines, recipe forthcoming… and I intend to enjoy the holiday sweets and savories. All in moderation.