Hello, Goodbye

When the cold finally swept in late last year, I gleefully pulled on my shearling-lined wedge booties and snapped a picture to post on Instagram.

I bought them last winter, but as the season was beginning to wind down at that point, I only wore them out once or twice. But here was my chance. I’ve lost count of the times that they’ve been worn since that picture was taken. With skinny denim. With skinny wool trousers. With skirts and dresses. On Saturday night, they joined me as I walked from Boston to Cambridge over the Massachusetts Avenue bridge. They know something of this city now.

Anyone who knows me even a little bit knows that fall and winter are my favorite seasons for dressing. From my obsession with wool outerwear to my love of tights, they are the seasons in which I shine. I am a New Englander through and through, and that fact becomes apparent almost immediately upon meeting me. Probably because you’ll often find me in some variation of this.

Or this.

Or this.

Or this.

When I first started to care about my clothes again, about how I felt in them and about what the world saw when I was in them, summer dressing was a struggle. Sometimes it still is. So now I’m faced with a challenge. In two months I’ll be moving to Los Angeles. Unexpected yet exciting. A change that is a long time in coming. Boston and I are on bad terms, and time apart is needed.

The state of my closet makes things easier logistically. Half of my clothes are completely inappropriate. Too heavy and too warm. Not inclined to let in breezes. They can live here in my mother’s house or be donated. But they have been my safety net. They can be thrown on most days without thinking. Cords. Shirt. Sweater. Blazer. Boots. Even in the summertime my instinct is to throw on a sweater. Or to throw a blazer over a whisper thin tee. And oftentimes I succumb.

Because I can’t help myself. Because it’s second nature. Maybe just as Boston and I need a break, my cold weather clothing and I need one as well. It’s time to learn not to lean on those staples anymore. I’ve made it so easy for myself that sometimes I’m not even trying, not really anyway. But every day until then, I’m going to be wearing my tweed blazer.

And my favorite coat.

Might as well make the most of it while I can.

Fresh Starts

A few days ago as I was catching my breath otherwise known as sprawling out on my bed, staring at the ceiling, and enjoying the silence, I realized something. I didn't feel like writing about London or Milan or Paris this season. It was hard enough grasping for straws in New York. Maybe I could give myself a break. Maybe I could ignore the rest altogether.

Things have been crazy. Not bad crazy necessarily (though there was some of that because, really, let’s think about whose life this is) but dizzying and distracting crazy. A pile of fashion magazines dating back to the all-important September issues sits unread in a corner of my room. A number of pre-Fall 2013 collections have already been shown. Some of the pieces that rest in my Spring/Summer 2013 bookmark folders have started to sneak their way into stores.

So I've decided to give it up. To skip the last three cities. And, most importantly, to not beat myself up about it. I spent most of my childhood and adolescence associating moving on or changing direction with failure. But life outside of school has taught me otherwise. And if forcing myself to write a few blog posts that not that many people read is going to make my hair start falling out, it’s not worth it. It's not failure. It’s simply honesty.

So I’ll read my magazines and start again with pre-Fall and not worry or stress about it like I do about so much else. About almost everything else. And I’ll tell you, like I do almost every year, what I’d like to wear on New Year’s Eve. Sure I’ll probably just closet dive and pick something long forgotten, but if I had my way, I would be wearing one of these two variations on a theme.

Prim and Proper

Trim and Chic

Either one would start me well on the road to temporarily forgetting that I have to work at 10 AM on New Year's Day.

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Color Wheel

Despite what the subsequent heatwave might have wanted me to believe, I’ve felt the end of summer looming since the 4th of July. And with its end, the trends for fall have settled into many, if not all, stores. Most trends don’t need too many instructions. So leopard is popular. Do you want it in a shoe? A scarf? A bag? A pair of high-waisted pants? The choice of how much or how little or none at all is yours. But some trends present more of a slippery slope.

The ease of composing multi-piece outfits out of items in bold, solid colors fades away as one gets older. A quick walk through a playground, or a trip through an old photo album, reveals how easy it is for children to do just that. There is a carefree nature to dressing at that age, as there should be when your bright yellow pants will probably end up covered in dirt or chocolate or finger paint or fruit juice by the end of the day, and every color seems to go well with every other color.

But with age comes the urge to "tone down" bright colors with something in the neutral family, like a black, a white, a gray, or a navy, overtakes us. The easiest way to move away from that impulse is to include one piece that does the colorblocking for you and to add on from there with items like a brightly hued pair of tights or a vibrant shoe.

Ailanto

Joseph

Isabel Marant Etoile

A.L.C.

The other option is to chose pieces in those shades you sometimes shy away from and style your outfit accordingly. That path can lead to more creativity and more excitement but also more mistakes, so it's best to start with one piece and build from there. In this case, I chose a pair of bright blue jeans by J Brand.

From there, it's easiest to begin with colors that live a good deal away from blue on the color wheel. Mustard yellow reappears every autumn and is a perfect complement to the candy color of the jeans.

Especially when it comes in a swing sweater from H&M.

And is finished with tiger print stilettos by Isabel Marant.

A cool, berry tone, much like the one this slouchy Rogan sweater is found in, is the perfect antidote for those whom find yellow to be rather unkind.

A pair of short Frye boots give the look a relaxed, weekend feel.

But for most, it’s not complementary colors that cause problems but playing with colors in the same family that presents difficulties. There’s the possibility that you’ll choose shades that are so similar that you’ll look like one definitive stroke of paint. On the other hand if the shades are just off, you’ll seem hopelessly mismatched.

However, a deep navy, like in this sweater from Marc by Marc Jacobs, will simply dampen the shocking nature of the jeans.

And bright green loafers by Topshop will add an additional pop that breaks up the blocks of blue.

In the end, all of that color and all of that playfulness will act as a shield as the long nights and short days of winter approach.



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Summering

As July approaches, the New England weather continues to play its schizophrenic games. All thoughts of shorts and sundresses are hidden away temporarily as I dig through my closet for the tights I thought I would no longer need. Though I could easily use the rain as an excuse to be anti-social and stay inside performing a much needed closet cull and watching old Cary Grant films, I've decided that I should try to be social. Charming. Or at least give myself some practice at taming the sometimes poisonous barbs that escape my lips. All of this means interacting with others. And wearing a dress even when it's rainy and gross and I'd like to show up to the party I'm supposed to attend in my new skinny leg sweatpants, a belted men's gingham shirt and slip-on canvas sneakers.

Since the first taste of summer heat settled over the region a couple of weeks ago, I've been spending my days off in nothing but shorts and lightweight sweaters and various dresses while carrying around the striped canvas tote my best friend gave me for my birthday and wondering whether my gingham pants should be reserved for G&T/martini drinking. For the first time ever, summer dressing has been easy for me. Fall had always been simple, but summer often left me feeling a bit agitated. My journey to outfits was often riddled with thorns. Dressing and undressing and dressing again before telling myself that I was being silly and should leave the house and stop acting like a stereotype wrapped in a cliché. Fidgeting and readjusting and emanating discomfort. Cursing the fact that everything on offer in stores seemed to be floral or bright or white or flowy or some unholy mix of all of those categories at the same time.

But this year something clicked or coalesced or some other word that people use when things fall into place all at once, and I've been hungrily awaiting the heat that I've so often dreaded. When I see summer clothes, possible combinations spring to mind immediately. I dream of jersey and silk and paper-thin cotton. I craft various scenarios where I could wear this.

Or this.

And I look at my tights with disgust.


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Shorts Story

As the clouds rolled in and I bundled up at an outdoor brunch in April, I stated rather plainly that the time of year where I stop wearing pants was approaching. My go-to for most of that month had been any one of the numerous pairs of jeans that I own. Pegged when the temperature rose. Worn full length when there was a chill in the air. But now that May is coming to a close, my reliance on denim will begin to wane in favor of skirts and sundresses. And perhaps one more item.

Getting over my various clothing neuroses has been a long, tortuous process. The breasts. The legs. The colorful. The adult. Dealing with all of those leftover middle and high school insecurities that caused me to spend most of college either using my clothes to hide from the world and myself or to show how well I could fit in. Most of those impulses have faded away at this point. Yet for all of my steps in the right direction, all of the shaking off of the dowdy, insecure girl I once was, there are still remnants of her that appear occasionally.

In the past five years, I’ve bought exactly three pairs of shorts. A pair of denim walking shorts that fall just above the knee in the summer of 2006, a navy chino pair in a similar length in the summer of 2009, and a shorter chambray pair in early 2010. The denim pair has been worn on and off but without any real frequency since I purchased them. I spent most of the summer and early fall of 2009 in the navy pair. The chambray pair made brief appearances during the summer of 2010 and, like the navy pair before them, lived on into the fall complemented by black or gray tights. (My mother bought me a seersucker pair with sailor buttons last summer that has never been worn due to the fact that I have limits on the amount of preppiness that I allow myself to emit at one time.)

Shorts are one of the last items that I approach gingerly in stores. That I’m not compelled to bring into the fitting room with me. And I try on everything. Because I want them but can’t afford to buy them. Because they make for fun “twirling in front of the mirror" material. Because I’m simply curious.  But with my adolescent insecurities roaring through my head and colliding with my latent good girl tendencies, shorts never make it into the room.

I've decided that I should take a second look. That purchasing only three pairs of a summer staple over the past five years was a bit ridiculous considering my shopping habits. That maybe I should have more shorts in my closet than lip products in my purse. (There are six currently hiding in various pockets.) 

So there is the casual, linen pair in a sunfaded yellow from Level 99

That can be paired with a simple tank from Old Navy

A navy and white striped, lightweight cardigan by Rag & Bone

And cross-strap flats in camel from Marais USA

Then there is the more formal pair by Alice & Olivia

That can be topped off with a shimmering tank from 3.1 Phillip Lim

And finished with equally shimmery red flats by Repetto.

Or the denim pair from Joe's Jeans

That can be complimented by a Rag & Bone cable knit sweater with a bit of swing

And colorful sneakers from Urban Outfitters

The plans have been made. Now to actually go through with them.



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Daylight Saving

Before diving into four weeks worth of fashion week pictures, I decided to take a break. I've been writing about non-fashion subjects. And reading books. And looking forward to spring.

Of course, all of this thinking of spring led me right back to the topic of clothes. We've seen the last of the cold, or the worst of it at any rate. I've stopped having to wear argyle knee highs to extend the life of my ballet flats. Tights are on the verge of being packed away. When I look out of window at 5:30 PM, the sun is still shining. Today while deep in the haze that I sometimes fall into when listening to my iPod, I stopped to touch a bud on a tree.

I am fully ready for the change of seasons.

So while planning three days in advance what I'm going to wear when it's near 60 degrees this weekend, I took to the internet for some browsing.

There was a lightweight, chambray blazer by Cartonnier's at Anthropologie.

And a Lili's Closet breezy top in what is once again becoming my favorite accent color.

Slim, ankle length jeans by Rag & Bone/JEAN.

Sweet, bow mary janes from Marais USA.

And a bright, frame bag by Cynthia Rowley.

None of the pieces that caught my eye epitomize spring, but I'm not one of those people who smells the first hint of warmth and jumps into shorts and espadrilles and floppy beach hats.

They simply reminded me that the time for sweaters and wool coats and flannels and equestrian style boots is coming to an end. And with that reminder came excitement.


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Countdown

Maybe it's the chill that's finally settled in or some shift in my mood as the days have gotten shorter, but as New Year's Eve (my favorite holiday, what with the bubbly drinks and the sparkles and the kisses at midnight) approaches, I've become less inclined to wear a party dress.

I will still wear one, of course, as my closet is overloaded with them. It will be my favorite of the moment. The one that's been seen more than once by my Boston friends but will be new to those in New York whom I haven't seen in almost six months. It's a strapless black minidress. Tulip skirt. Simple. It will be paired with sparkly black tights, layered over a silk sequined tank, and finished with heeled mary janes. The entire look says sexy and sweet and festive. It's rather good at drawing those compliments that make me both smile and cringe. But for some reason, all of that sweetness and all of that prettiness have been making me uneasy recently. I tug and pull at my A-line minis not because of their length but because of some discomfort that I can't describe.

I wouldn't say that I've become bored with all of those pretty girl dresses. Just that I've become tired of the acting that those clothes sometimes involve. The acting that I can't seem to help myself from undertaking while in them.

But I think that the impulse to put on the mask would fade away in slim-fitting pants like these from Stella McCartney

Offset with a pair of sparkly pumps from Miu Miu

And a Vanessa Bruno Athé sweater.

A black cuff from Aurelie Bidermann would sit on my right arm

While a Lanvin cocktail ring would adorn the finger that is supposed to remain bare.

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Schooling

I've reached that point in the summer when I start to think about back to school dressing despite the fact that I've been out of school for over five years.

Because every schoolgirl needs knee-high black boots to go with her sweater dress and ribbed tights.


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