Category: style

I wore black turtlenecks all through high school and college. Then I realized what a cliche that was, discovered colors and vintage patterns, and spent most of a decade suffering through pencil skirts and ballet flats.

But now, I’m back in black* and I love it. I bought this iteration of the classic turtleneck from Everlane last month and I have to stop myself from wearing it more than twice a week.

Why are black turtlenecks so great? I’d never been able to put into words why I feel so polished, so cool in one, but Rachel Syme summed it up last year, in “A Love Letter to Black Turtlenecks“:

Because let’s talk about what happens to you when you finally put one on: Your head becomes a sculpture. Once you emerge through that tube of fabric, you start to resemble a marble bust—your skull and all its features are on display, like the diamonds plopped on top of black velvet in the Van Cleef windows. […] It makes you realize how beautiful your face is, because it’s so out there, floating atop your shoulders for the world to appraise.

*You can’t say that phrase without linking to the song . It’s a rule.

The NY Times recently published a  piece about “Modest Dressing as a Virtue” in their style section. While I was initially excited to read about loose fitting clothes (my new love is getting national recognition!), it’s pretty tone deaf. Because I’m not cocooning myself in layers of fabric because I think it’s virtuous or satisfies some [historically male] definition of morality; I’m doing it because it’s comfortable and IDGAF.

Thankfully, Stephanie Madewell over at Even Cleveland published an eloquent take on it that’s more true for me–and I think a lot of women embracing baggy jumpsuits and giant jackets:

I think the answer is simpler: some women are dressing this way because they like it and it makes them feel good. In the [NY Times] piece, [author Naomi] Fry claims, “You have to be a pretty stylish, pretty good-looking woman to claim ownership of such radical dowdiness.” Well, no. Like the fairies in Peter Pan, these things are only real as long as you choose to believe in them. As a short, not thin, not wealthy, average-looking woman with prematurely graying hair well past dewy youth living far from a global fashion center, I happily wear clothes like these. I love the fact that so many are designed by women, and I don’t care whether anyone else in my daily orbit thinks I look dowdy because I feel like myself.

…at the revolution of radical dowdiness, as we all mill about in our high-necked tent dresses, button-down jumpsuits, and many-pocketed denim work jackets, we should firmly fold and put away the shabby thinking that ties any notion of female empowerment to a specific set of choices. The power lies in having the choice, not in choosing a particular outcome. The work lies in expanding and accepting the choices, not in dictating them, even when they involve a simple dress.

When I posted yesterday’s pants on Instagram, I commented that my new goal was to dress like a Swedish art teacher. My style is definitely changing: Shirts and pants suddenly can’t be loose enough. I’m stomping around in clogs and orthopedic shoes. I joke that this new look might as well announce, “I eschew the male gaze,” and I love it.

This article–about Jane Jacobs, Georgia O’Keefe, and their Marimekko dresses–sums up a little of what I’m going after:

“Eugenia Sheppard, the fashion critic for the New York Herald Tribune, called such dresses ‘a uniform for intellectuals…Marimekko is for women whose way of wearing clothes is to forget what they have on.’

[…] These dresses are the opposite of the tailored and belted and solid-color sheaths worn as a kind of female armor by Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s Selina Meyer on “Veep”—and by the Trump women. They aren’t feminine interpretations of the suit-as-uniform but dissent from the idea of sucking it in and putting on a show.”

I’ve been trying to cut my spending since the year began, but this month I’ve finally done it. The trick? Not shopping. Turns out when you don’t look at things you want to buy, you don’t buy them and you don’t spend money! I can’t even take credit for this revolutionary idea–I went through the blog Style Bee’s monthlong “Shopping Fast,” which she positions as the first way to reset your closet. (I downloaded the workbook and unsubscribed from store offers and everything.)

So I’ve been thinking a lot about shopping, not shopping, and why it’s so easy to click “buy” and found this article from a program at the Pratt Institute: How Evolutionary Instincts Drive Modern Day Shopping Behaviors

Our brains are primed for new. When we see something novel, an area of the brain called the substantia niagra releases the reward chemical, dopamine. If you put yourselves in the shoes of our ancestors this makes sense. Finding something new was either an opportunity for something better, like shelter, food, or a mate, or was something dangerous that should be avoided. Either way, coming across a surprise, meant they had to give it some attention. …

We have evolved to be complex animals able to program computers, build skyscrapers, and fly across oceans, but we still elicit responses from our ancestral brains. Next time you go shopping, think about whether your ancestral brain is being primed – do you really NEED that $20 dress or cheap pair of flip-flops? Can you fight the feeling and save up for the better quality item? Is the item REALLY new or a variation of something you saw last season? It is not going to be easy, because you are fighting thousands of years of natural selection.

If you’d talked to me twenty years ago about a daily uniform, I would have written you pages of teen prose about individuality in the face of the system and how dare anyone try to take away the only way we had to express ourselves.

But. The older I get the less time I want to spend thinking about what I’m wearing. I love clothes–I mean, my hobby is making them–but I don’t want to have to pick from a closet where I have to remember, “This is too cold, this is a little tight, this feels too formal, this doesn’t work under that,” and so on. I’m moving towards a formula, if not an outright uniform (part of why I’m spending the summer making blue shirts).

This Harper’s Bazaar interview with a female art director at Saatchi (from 2015) really helped me put the whole “uniform” thoughts into better words and action. What she says about working in a creative office is so true:

“…office style is commonly informal in my industry. We have been given the opportunity to reflect our true personalities in everything we wear, every day—to extol our ‘creative spirits’ in everything we do. As if all of that wasn’t enough, let’s add to the mix the extensive pressure on women to uphold a flawless appearance. Here, we ultimately end up with an unscalable mountain of high expectations. No wonder many people walk around feeling that the world owns them, when it really should be the other way around.

The thought of reclaiming the driver’s seat can feel overwhelming, but even small changes can make a huge difference. The simple choice of wearing a work uniform has saved me countless wasted hours thinking, ‘what the hell am I going to wear today?’ And in fact, these black trousers and white blouses have become an important daily reminder that frankly, I’m in control.”

I just bought a pair of Vans hi-top sneakers. I remember the skater kids in high school wore them and I always liked the style, but I wasn’t a skater and I wasn’t nearly cool enough to dress like one. It literally took me 20 years to feel confident enough to buy a pair of shoes.

So this piece from Stacy London (What Not To Wear) is apropos and an awesome read about aging, style, and being “part of the first generation of women not truly dependent on anyone.”

1. Sometimes I take pictures of my outfits and put them on Instagram:

2. I think this is a valid fear and that there should be a word for it: