Tied Up

My knowledge of menswear lags far behind my knowledge of womenswear. This should not come as a surprise. I’ve been zipping and buttoning, squeezing and shoving myself into clothes for decades. And beyond the dressing of my own self, I’ve spent my life observing how other women dress. Being born into a family full of them, spending nearly half of my school years surrounded by them, the ways in which girls and women dress themselves was long ago demystified. When I began my more thorough fashion education near the end of college, there was a substantial foundation on which to build.

I've always been curious about menswear but until recently I didn't pay as much attention to it, didn't go through their runway shows and religiously devour their fashion magazines. And the observational skills that throughout my life provided me with reams of information about womenswear could become easily derailed. To be honest, they are still susceptible to derailment. When I see a man, his clothes are not always the first thing that I notice. Height and eyes and shoulders and that faint waft of cologne, those things catch my eye and hold my interest. Clothing is usually secondary. And even when I do notice it first, those other pieces, the height and eyes and shoulders and cologne, come in to crowd my thoughts.

It wasn't until I moved back to Boston in 2009, unemployed and emotionally bruised after the failures of New York, that things began to change. I got a holiday position at a clothing store that had once dominated my adolescence. I hoped that I would be able to stay on for awhile once the season came to a close. I ended up there for nearly five years. But that story, the long, winding tale of my underemployment, is best saved for another day and a different venue. Three years into my time there, as the brand's footprint in that corner of the mall expanded, I moved across the hall for the holiday season to act as a temporary manager at our men’s suiting shop.

Working retail during the holiday season is a particular kind of beast but this was a smaller, calmer situation. Yes, people came in frantically searching for gifts and weekends could be hectic and overwhelming but generally there was quiet. When things slowed, which they often did on weekdays, and there was nothing to fold or refold, I liked to spend time with the ties. It was the table that most easily fell into messiness. Near the front and filled with confections asking to be touched, shoppers often stopped there first. It wasn’t particularly shocking. Ties are considered an easy, sometimes lazy, gift and it was the gift giving season after all.

I got very handy at wrapping them nicely in tissue paper before placing them into long, narrow boxes. But I always demured when asked to tie the box up with some ribbon. I never learned how to get my hands to move in quite the right way.

They were organized by color on the table from warm to cool. Everything was always warm to cool. The sameness of things was one of the pieces of retail that I enjoyed. Colors always moved in the same direction. Sweaters were always folded one of two ways. Not too long into my tenure at the company I was able to let my mind slip off to other places while completing tasks. Places that weren’t whatever store I happened to be working in.

But the monotony of the task wasn’t the only reason that I was drawn to the ties.

I never had tomboy leanings when I was younger. I preferred full skirts and ruffled socks and patterned tights as a little girl. My adult closet houses numerous dresses and skirts. I had obviously seen ties but never had a reason or an impulse to examine them up close. Even when working in the larger store in its previously co-ed days, I rarely had a chance to peruse the menswear. I'd proven myself adept at tasks that were not selling and could most often be found behind a register or in the stockroom. But being near the menswear had made my curiosity about it grow. So when I finally found myself surrounded by it, I was flush with excitement.

The ties were folded in half on the table, two or three of each style placed next to each other. I liked the way the silk ones shined. I loved running my fingers down the length of the knit ones and feeling their textures. I liked picking them up, striped and pin dotted and solid, and seeing how they complemented, or clashed, with various shirts. But most of all I liked to bask in how pretty they were. Pretty, of course, is a descriptor often avoided in the world of menswear. But that’s what they were and that was why I liked them so much.

Sooner than I would have liked, I was back across the hall surrounded by the familiar trappings of women's clothing. I hadn't finished the lessons that one of the personal stylist's was giving a handful of us on how to properly pin a suit for tailoring. My four-in-hand still needed work. Bowties perplexed me. I missed the thrill of discovery. I've always loved learning and there was little new for me to pick up back across the hall with the skirts and the dresses.

I started to casually hang out at both of the men's shops. Sometimes I would pick up shifts at the one selling our casual menswear. I began doing some of my shopping there as well. Collecting ginghams and sweaters. And I began paying attention. To what arrived in new collections and what flew out of the stores and what lingered. To what fabrics and colors the suits arrived in when the seasons changed. To the range of denim and chino fits. I began visiting the other men's stores in the mall and conducting the types of fact finding missions that I had been undertaking in women's stores for years. And slowly, very slowly, the pieces began to come together.

On Saturday mornings, as Silver Lake begins to stretch its legs, I like to walk down my section of Sunset Boulevard with my earbuds firmly in place and take in the goings on. I file away everyone's clothes, put what they're wearing away for later distillation and understanding. I push away those things that would muddy the process. And I find myself smiling more than usual.

Favorite of the Day: Osman

Osman has always been about clean lines. Clean and sharp but without any harshness. That trend continued in the collection shown on September 16th.

But other ideas crept in. Prints both soft and loud, subtle and bold. Hemlines that played with the idea of asymmetry. 

It was the same game but with a new set of rules.

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Favorite of the Day: Ostwald Helgason

I have a well-documented love for all things schoolgirl. Short, full skirts and collared shirts. Oxfords, penny loafers, and mary janes. At the Ostwald Helgason presentation, The Schoolgirl and her cousin The Tomboy were everywhere.

But the patterns were bold. The colors were vibrant. The blazers were gilded. And none of it was juvenile.

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Favorite of the Day: Christophe Lemaire

The most obvious interpretations of spring and summer are full of lightness and florals and frothy femininity. But at Christophe Lemaire, wide leg trousers with gentle pleats and easy jackets dominated.

In this collection, spring and summer were about the laid back ease that can sometimes be found in menswear.


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Favorite of the Day: Billy Reid

I have a bit of a thing for menswear designers who branch out and start making collections for women like Band of Outsiders and Rag & Bone. After receiving a Rag & Bone wool peacoat this past Christmas, I pranced around my house wearing it while singing a made up song with only one lyric. "It's so pretty." (Emphasis on the "It's" and sung in a major key.)

So when Billy Reid, the 2010 winner of the CFDA/Vogue Fashion Fund, presented his first collection for women last season, I was maybe a bit too excited. (Okay, I was ecstatic.) This season, there were even more pieces for me to daydream about. All those details that are so important in menswear, small changes in lapel width and coat length, are found throughout his women's collection.

It's easy to forget how vital all of those things are until someone kindly reminds you.


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The Vest

I’ve spent the last few weeks floating around Boston in various skirts and dresses. New, old and those never worn. Kicky ponytails and pink scarves and earrings that clink and clang. I have transformed into a veritable fountain of femininity. At least until some sarcastic quip escapes my lips. Until someone says Well you are just sunshine and flowers when they mean the opposite, and I throw my hands up and smirk guiltily.

On an off day, you’ll find me in jeans. It is summer after all, and, as I told someone on the evening that I debuted the Thakoon for Target dress (seen below) that had been sitting in my closet for 18 months, I plan to wear every dress that I own.


While searching for one of those never worn dresses in my closet, I discovered a favorite temporarily forgotten. One that does not fit into the flirty persona that I’ve adopted since the temperature has warmed.

I bought The Vest following The Summer of the Dress. It was one of the last pieces I bought that was a smidge too small for me, though I am glad for that bit of folly as it means that I can still wear it today. It is a deep navy and resembles those often seen in a three-piece suit. It was tailored and sharp at a time that I still favored pieces that allowed me a bit of breath. Things behind which I could still hide the tiniest bit. There was no question of the size of my waist, or my breasts, in The Vest. For this reason it frightened me slightly, but I began to wear it. With jeans skinny and wide. Over tees and oxford shirts. I traded the shape that I gained from wide belts, belts that made the skirts of my dresses billow gently, for that of The Vest. It found itself sitting through multiple internship interviews in the summer of 2008. I began to wear it so much that one of my friends threatened to take it away. In many ways, its lines more closely emulate my character than the flirty pieces. Sometimes rational to a fault. Harboring a love of structure.

Though I love them dearly, the dresses deceive. Sunshine and flowers I am not.

That morning, as I stood holding The Vest, I decided to try it on with some of the new pieces that had entered my closet during its brief retirement. The fit was better. The look was sharp. I had missed the seriousness it seemed to endow me.

Though its best season is the fall, I’m going to remove it from its hiding place. There are ways to wear it this summer. With chambray and gingham. Over a tee worn with an A-line mini. With kicky ponytails and pink scarves and earrings that clink and clang.


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Favorite of the Day: Tommy Hilfiger

It's rather fitting that my last favorite of this New York Fashion Week was the last show ever to be presented at the tents in Bryant Park.

At least one show a season causes my New England roots to reveal themselves. In New York, that show was Tommy Hilfiger.

Also, can I order one of these? Thanks.

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The Other Side

I've been trying for quite awhile to increase my knowledge of men's clothing. About fits and cuts. About how to match ties with shirts with pocket squares. About how many pairs of shoes a man needs. Last month I even bought my first issue of GQ. This purchase may have had something to do with the picture featuring the men of True Blood in tuxedos or the fact that the hometown quarterback was on the cover, but I actually read the words too.


I couldn't let you go without including at least one of the pictures, but now back to the story at hand.

I’ve tried my usual store wanderings to try and get an understanding of what’s on offer for men. I’ve slowly made my way through the mazes of the H&M, Saks, Barneys and Filene’s Basement men’s departments. I looked closely at the suits. Examined the patterns. Took note of how the mannequins were styled. How the products were merchandised. And then I get home all jumbled and think yeah, I still don’t get it.

I feel like I should do interviews. Have a list of 40 in depth questions to ask a sampling of men about how they dress. But this is just the analytical part of my mind taking over and talking crazy. Trying to keep in check the part of me that simply thinks, well he’s very, very pretty, so who cares why he's wearing a three piece suit as opposed to a two piece option.

I'm going to have to force my brain to meet somewhere in the middle.


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Favorite of the Day: Steven Alan

I know that I'm supposed to move onto London, but much like Day 3 of New York, I wasn't particularly moved by anything that was shown yesterday. So in its place, I'm giving you one last bit of New York.

I learned about Steven Alan during my internship late last year and earlier this year. Though I loved all of my favorites, let's not pretend that I could live my everyday life in most of those clothes. I couldn't. Maybe this is why I love Stella McCartney so much. She makes pieces that are as fanciful as any other designer, but I can also find items that I could wear while secretly being the chicest person at Trader Joe's.

And this is why I love Steven Alan. Being able to live in your clothes doesn't mean that you have to suddenly start wearing sweatpants and tees. You can look casual, stylish and easygoing. Also, the price point is just right for me. Or would be if I, you know, had a job right now.

Instead of a runway show, or even a presentation, Alan went for a video featuring a day in the life of a couple. The couple is completely decked out in his clothes, but unlike the Chanel video with Audrey Tautou (which I generally loved by the way), there is no mysterious floating Steven Alan logo keeping the protagonists awake.

Steven Alan Spring 2010 from Steven Alan on Vimeo.

There is just ease. The last breaths of summer. Tomatoes. And a beautiful turquoise dress.

Tie Games

I readily admit that I know very little about men's clothing. I know what I think they look nice in, but I don't always know why I'm drawn to one particular item over another. But given all that, I'm still going to talk about a picture from this event.


Seriously, what the fuck? Are there no other tie colors besides red and blue gentlemen? Maybe the general public sees this as patriotic or something, but I see it as a sign that you lack a creative mind. Or that you simply choose not to listen to it, which is not a trait I like in my politicians. Are your PR people dressing you? Wait. Don't tell me. I already know the answer. Maybe we can look into some dark plums. Or a hunter green. I would even put up with the dreaded goldenrods that every boy at my college seemed to own.

On a side note, stand up straight Mr. I'm Only President for a Little Bit Longer. It looks like you're trying to bolt before your time is up. And will someone move closer to Jimmy? He's looking a little lost on the end.


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Bunny Ears

I love boys with undone shoes.

My iPod is on the fritz. Well, it has been for months now, but it has gotten to the point where I can't even listen to it. Every time I leave my apartment for the subway, I still throw it into my bag as opposed to one of the books or magazines I have on reserve. This leaves me with 30 minute long subway rides and nothing to do.

I've taken to watching the other people around me. Not staring but observing. On the A last week, I sat across from a boy wearing a black hoodie underneath his gray, distressed leather jacket. After jealously watching him fiddle with his Nano, my eyes fell on his gray Nikes with orange detailing. The laces were placed through the holes in a convoluted pattern that made it appear as if they were barely doing their job of keeping the shoes on his feet. The velcro strap near the toe was attached in such a way that it was still allowed to flap around. At that moment, however, they merely stood at semi-attention.

I looked back up at his face, which was partially obscured by the hands holding the Nano. He was definitely cute. But what I really liked were his shoes. The color. The way they met the hem of his slim-fitting jeans. The laces. Sure, it takes a certain level of anal retentiveness to leave your laces done yet undone in a particular fashion, but I am the queen of anal retentiveness. I favor the clean and polished. The finished. People who work so hard for the opposite intrigue me.

The train pulled into my station. He stayed in his seat as I hopped off to wait for the G and futilely tried to make my iPod produce music.