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Category: clothes

Wearing Purple

Wearing Purple

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This morning on Metro I realized I was wearing a purple jacket, holding a phone with a purple cover and wearing glasses with a purple frame.

It’s just a coincidence, I told myself. I’m not turning into one of those old women who wears purple. Not that there’s anything wrong with the color. But I’d rather not wait till I’m old to wear it — and, more to the point, I’d rather not wait till I’m old to be a free spirit.

Yes, there’s something to be said for how years lessen the esteem with which we hold the opinions of others. Maybe that’s because we’ve seen more foolishness. But I hope it’s because we’re more tolerant of ourselves and others, that we’ve grown in compassion as well as nerve. If that’s what frees us … then bring it on.

Decisions, Decisions

Decisions, Decisions

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I keep meaning to put my wardrobe through the “does it spark joy?” test described in Marie Kondo’s book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Until I do, I’m bound to have mornings like today, when I tried on one top after another, finally settling on the one I chose first.

Clothes confusion, choice aversion — finding no combination that quite works. It may be brought on by the relaxed nature of weekend shorts and t-shirt — followed by the jarring need to look halfway presentable in the office on Monday.

I wish I’d taken a picture of the discarded choices: white shirt, black sweater, red shell, black shrug. They were a kaleidoscope of colors, a collage of might-have-beens.

Decisions, decisions.

(Photo: Wikipedia. No time to photograph my own discarded outfits.)

What to Wear

What to Wear

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These are the crazy first days of spring, capricious and erratic. The thermometer appears to be broken, so profoundly do its readings vary from morning till night. All we can do is hang on.

That — and figure out what to wear. Should we dress for morning or for afternoon? Or more precisely, should we be comfortable at 6 a.m. and sticky at 4? Or the other way around?

For me, it’s the former every time.  I’ll wear a turtleneck even though it’s going up to 70. But when I walk out the door and feel the first cold blast of 30-something-degree air, I’ll pull the sweater up to my chin and luxuriate in its warmth.

Casual Thursday

Casual Thursday

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Like most of the rest of the working world (those of us who are working today) I’m wearing jeans and sandals. Also seen in the office today: flip-flops, shorts and a little gray terrier. The pace is slow, the day is short and the mindset is … what is the mindset? I’ve already forgotten.

I’m tempted to hang up a “Gone Fishin'” sign, but I don’t want to check out completely.

Instead, I’m sitting here in office chair, hands on the keyboard, work piled on the desk, summoning up the energy to dive into it.

And I will dive in … any minute now.

Wearing White

Wearing White

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While not a fashion traditionalist in most ways (I’m writing this in a work skirt and tennis shoes), I do have a thing about wearing white after Labor Day.

It’s a dictum that originates from my earliest years, from the same place as skirt and sweater sets and little white gloves for dancing school. From a time when there were rules and penalties (a withering glance, an averted head) for breaking them.

Those have gone away, of course — the rules and the penalties — but wearing white after Labor Day … Well, that’s a tough one to break. So white skirt and pants are tucked away for next year. White blouses and shirts, they’re allowed, of course. I’m wearing one right now. A way to keep the flickering flame of summer burning brightly a few more weeks.

(In no hurry for this kind of white.)

World That Was

World That Was

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I see them everywhere. They’re made of straw or cloth; they are jaunty or slouchy. Are men’s summer hats making a comeback? In my limited experience on the streets and in the conveyances of Washington, D.C., the answer would have to be yes.

The question is whether this trend is dermatologically or sartorially driven. Given the fraught nature of our times, I’d go with the former.

Whatever the explanation, I’m enjoying it. The other day on Metro, my seat mate removed his straw fedora and for an instant I was back in the dark, downtown church we sometimes attended with my grandfather when I was very young. There were hooks in those old wooden pews, little pincers perfect for playing with during Mass, and that’s where my grandfather would hang his hat.

Metro cars, of course, do not supply this amenity, so my seatmate simply held his awkwardly on his lap. I shifted in my seat, tried to give him and his hat as much room as possible. I thought about anachronisms like hat hooks and how they seem so fussy and antiquated in our streamlined days. And I thought about what the world was like when we had them.

Dogs Wearing Clothes

Dogs Wearing Clothes

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Our little ragamuffin pooch Copper was glad to see me when I walked in the door Sunday night. I gave him a hug and a pat, and yesterday, when we had more time together, I told him what I really thought about the dogs of New York.

They’re cute, I said, and you would probably like to sniff them out. But then again, you might not take them seriously because … they wear clothes. I mean, not just the random pampered poodle, but the perky bichon and the elegant whippet.  I would say about a third of the canines I spotted in the Big Apple were wearing something other than their leashes.

Dachshunds were the best dressed. They wore knitted shirts and tuxedo vests. And one dog (not a dachshund) in Washington Square Park was decked out in a plaid shirt and tennis shoes. This dog also walked on his hind legs.

I’ve heard there’s a new movement afoot to accord animals the rights of people. If not the rights, then at least the wardrobes. At least in Manhattan. 

The Skirt

The Skirt

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Is winter really over — pants tucked in boots, thick socks, turtleneck, sweater? Can I finally think about ditching the winter uniform?

I seem to remember another article of clothing, something I wore long ago, when days were warmer.

I even have a few of them my closet, relics of another time. Is it my imagination or do they look forlorn, wrinkled with disuse, wondering why it’s been so long?

I check the weather. Highs in the 60s, though it’s cool now. Still, it’s do-able — if I still own a pair of tights anymore, that is.

Only one way to find out.  I’m heading upstairs now to put on a skirt.


(Not this one; it’s a dress, anyway!)

Something Up My Sleeve

Something Up My Sleeve

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Spring is trying, but it’s still winter here. Bare trees, brisk winds. I probably should wear gloves. But somehow I never remember, or I think I don’t need them. So on most of my walks now my hands are balled into fists and pulled up into the sleeves of my old jacket.

This is probably against most exercise maxims: relax, keep your arms loose, shake out. But for better or worse it seems to be my style these days. And I like the idea of gloves at the ready, long sleeves (and this jacket has them) with a soft lining. Some sweat shirts these days are made with thumb holes so my hands are always warm — though wearing them makes me feel like a poorly paid Dickensian clerk.

Still, there is something to be said for being as portable as possible. Do I have something up my sleeve? Absolutely!

House Dress

House Dress

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The house dress was a shapeless garment worn by grandmothers and great aunts. Simple cotton frocks in floral prints, they were what women wore when they didn’t plan on going out, when the chores of the day kept them inside, when they would never consider wearing pants.

I heard a radio report the other day on the evolution of the modern home that included this numbing statistic: In the 1920s, the average woman spent about five hours a day in the kitchen. A house dress must have been comfortable attire for scouring the oven, baking bread or running clothes through a wringer. Shapeless and liberating. No girdle required.

No woman I know wears a house dress now, unless you count some modern iterations that have little in common with their frumpy forebears. But I haven’t been home five minutes when I run upstairs, slip out of my blazer and trousers and pull on my sweatpants and sweatshirt. Comfortable and shapeless, perfect for cooking, cleaning or doing nothing, they are my house dress.