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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Break Time

After being immersed in clothes for next spring and summer, I needed to break out and remember that it's fall and that I need things to go with those new mustard skinny cords that I own. Maybe these Church's studded brogues would do.

I mean, I did ruin my brown oxfords in the rain last year.

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Party Down

If there’s one word that makes me want to shop, it’s the word party. It can be preceded by any descriptor. There can be a paper invitation or an email or a “C U @ 8” text message. It can be on a roof deck. It can involve a beach bonfire. I could be crammed into a studio apartment. None of that matters. I sift through my closet beforehand and rarely find anything to satisfy me. Even if there is no dress code. Even if no one would blink if I showed up in a pair of ratty, skinny jeans, a striped, dolman-sleeved sweatshirt and a pair of beat up Bensimons.

When I was little, parties meant cupcake dresses. Green velvet, big skirts, and white sashes with a matching bow sitting atop my head. In college, I moved in the opposite direction. Halter tops and tube tops. Stretchy, suffocating fabrics. Bootcut jeans. Parties meant tighter and brighter. Can you find something that makes you look like a sequin that took a dip in a tub of glitter? Perfect! The discovery of the nearest Forever 21 was a revelation. It took far too long for me to realize a number of things. Firstly, a Forever 21 tube top lasts about three washes before it begins to disintegrate. Secondly, I rarely looked good in any of those things. And thirdly, having a wardrobe meant only for partying was a waste of space, money and time.

But the urge to hunt for something new when such occasions arise hasn't subsided, even though most of the parties that I go to now are of the "Everyone Bring Some Wine and Hang Out in My Apartment with Me" variety. On Monday, I wove my way up and down Newbury Street in search of something to wear to a party that I'm attending on Friday.

And just what was I hoping to find? Not cupcake dresses or halter tops. I'm far removed from both of those phases of my life. Feminine detailing. Ease. Pieces that can weave their way into my everyday wardrobe.

By Jason Wu

By Rag & Bone

By Tory Burch

And, for those occasions that call for it, something that I can dance in.


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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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The Heights

After spending all of my life somewhere on the tall spectrum, I’ve settled rather comfortably into the medium tall range of which the perks include having pants always hit me in just the right spot and being able to reach most tall shelves. For this reason, and because of The Legs, I rarely need to wear heels. But most heels aren’t about necessity. I own several pairs of course. Mary Janes. Espadrilles. Wedges. Stilettos that were not made to be worn on the brick sidewalks of the South End or, previously, on the gravel paths of my college campus.

Yet even when I feel the urge to put them on, I turn instead to the flats strewn about my room. I’ve stopped wearing heels during job interviews. Instead I pair my black suiting dress with black ballet flats and call it a day.

The reality of my life might have something to do with my devotion to the ballet flat. When I’m at work, I’m always on my feet. When I’m not, I’m walking everywhere. Over various bridges to Cambridge. Down to Fort Point Channel. Around Jamaica Pond. I balance my late 20s obsession with all things mini by wearing shoes that keep me close to the ground and keep my outfits sweetly sexy.

But heels of all types are, after dresses and boys and the perfect job, the things that I most often daydream about. I can lose hours in the archives of Tommy Ton's Jak & Jil street style blog. When I wander through shoe departments, I construct elaborate outfits from the bottom up. I’ve been having recurring fantasies about Manolo Blahnik mary janes in colors and prints that it doesn’t come in this season like leopard and red patent leather. And even though I should probably start by simply wearing the shoes that I already own, I can’t help lusting after a number of pairs.

From the twisted classic

Lanvin

Givenchy

Christian Louboutin

To the candy bright

Miu Miu

Alexander McQueen

To the sky high

Jimmy Choo

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Winks

One of the highlights of the Fall/Winter 2011 season was the kink-laced Louis Vuitton collection filled with glamorous cuffs that secured the girls to their clutches, miniature masks that sat atop all of their heads and a feather duster one girl held (almost) daintily behind her back.

For Resort 2012, the Louis Vuitton girl was ready for a vacation. Overnight bag and towel and swimsuit were all at the ready.

As well as a cocktail dress for nights on the town.

A shorts suit.

And a day dress that fell below the knees.

Yet when one examined everything more closely, the elements that were so prevalent in the fall collection still hung in the air. The cocktail dress was accented with shots of leather. The shorts suit was made of a royal blue lace that left one with a hazy picture of what lived underneath. The lattice-like weaving of the day dress revealed patches of skin to the observant eye.

It was, as Resort so often is, a compromise and a bridge.


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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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Curator

This morning, while listening to a Pandora station that flitted between The National, Noah and the Whale and Arcade Fire, I sat on the floor fighting sneezes and sorting through piles of clothes in search of my fall pieces. It was a calming way to spend a rainy morning.

I spend most of September fighting the urge to buy an entirely new wardrobe. Sweaters and coats and boots seem to call out to me as I wander through stores. As the years have passed, I’ve gotten better at ignoring these bank account draining impulses. But every fall some things need to be discarded while others need to be found.

I made a little list in my head. In front of me were the minis in corduroy and denim and wool. Tights in pink and mustard and metallic silver. The many pairs in black and gray. More argyle knee-highs than I remembered owning.  Skinny black cords. A faux-wrap black sweater and a simple white v-neck one. The gray, green and black sweater dresses.

There were obvious gaps, even if I’d only made it halfway through the hunt. The sweater search never materialized last winter as I instead settled on layering. I could do with another pair of cords to compliment the cadre of denim that I own.

Shorter boots would nicely offset my knee-high pairs. A pair of non-denim, non-cord pants, an item I can’t remember purchasing in at least the past three years due to an allergy to chinos and the reality of working at casual workplaces, creative workplaces, or no workplaces at all, were likely a necessity at this point.

Flat oxfords could prove a nice, cold weather alternative to my ballet flats.

But I eventually tired of thinking about what was necessary. It was rainy and cold. August, the worst month of the year, was moving at too slow of a pace. No one seemed to be in a hiring mood this time of year. I stretched out on the floor, stared at the ceiling and thought of this.

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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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