A Very Simple Summer Addition, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:18am
I’m craving black and white.
Oh, not in argument. In thought, the more profoundly we can disaggregate that which presents as solid into its tiny points of cognitive green and black purple, or metaphysical cream and ivory, the better. But in terms of a summer wardrobe – wardrobe, such a funny term for a bunch of fabric bits in a Pottery Barn dresser – I’m feeling the need to simplify.
Set the context. On really hot days I wear linen dresses. In aqua, mustard, orange. Otherwise, it’s Eileen Fisher pants; chocolate brown ponte in the Lantern silhouette, a moss brown in the Carrot style, and navy twill cargo – also Lantern. That’s it. I’m committed.
The last couple of years I’ve enjoyed playing with color. Redwood t-shirt, turquoise earrings, brown pants. This year, for *waves a hand alternately enraged and deeply sorrowful* reasons, I need absolute black and white. Style is as much personality and intent as color and shape. I’m thinking about ordering from Petit Bateau. Expensive, but the last PB tees I had must have lasted me close to 10 years. (These from UNIQLO are also good, but they last half as long and I like their neckline a little less. When simplifying, details are all.)
Not to belabor a point, but, black.
White.
And, yes, that looks gray but if they promise white I will trust them until proven wrong.
These shirts are not exciting on the page. But I can wear a black tee with brown pants – as long as they aren’t yellow-toned and my shoes are white or black or brown. I have an ochre jacket. White tees with navy pants cry out for orange Birkenstocks or pale pink sneakers. I also have a vision. However if quality proves to have declined, I will throw myself to the ground with ashes in my hair. Send hope.
Finally, isn’t it true that someone defined as an Autumn shouldn’t wear black, or white? That’s the guidance, but like anything important, the true test is looking in the mirror, moral or physical, and seeing for yourself what’s right.
A wonderful weekend to you all.
Orange Dresses Are American, Or, Sunday Morning at 9:53am
Well, hello! My hair is less auburn (hooray!) and last night I wore my Ann Mashburn dress to a party as I love it so
See You Tomorrow
Today I’ll be at a No Kings event. See you tomorrow with more iterations of an orange dress. We can do both. And yes, that
Bouquets To Art And What Fades, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:40am
Thursday I went with a friend to Bouquets to Art, a fundraiser held annually at two of the city’s older museums, where local florists install
Writing Books And Selling Shoe Mistakes, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:15am
I did write two novels. You asked what happened with my fiction foray. Yup, I wrote two novels. I queried agents for both; the first
Considering Invisible And Seen, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:46am
Dressing is communicating. Note, as young women, our clothes communicate our figures whether we like it or not. I think the species wants to continue,
If Not Pink Pants Then What, Or, Saturday Morning at 10:05am
If I could ask you to put your pretending hats on, please? Excellent. I particularly like that one with the navy stars. Now, if you
Slow Starts, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:07am
How are you doing? How are you feeling? Do you have any great summer plans? In brief, I’m helping my daughter plan and pull together her wedding, calling my elected representatives weekly, and attending a protest once a month. Next one, No Kings, is scheduled for the day of Trump’s Soviet-style birthday parade–June 14th. My roses are blooming, the hellebores have come and gone, I’m waiting for more butterflies. I’m really truly learning Spanish, bit by bit, and for the most part getting done what needs doing in time. In truth, and less briefly, I feel a little rusty writing
Hello, Or, Saturday Morning at 9:50am
Hello! The celebration in Houston was lovely. I got to spend time with dear college roommates. And the party was a sort of Texas magic–outside by a pool at an old country club, attended by local friends and family and a contingent of young ones from Soho. What could have been better? Why didn’t I wear cowboy anything? I figured it out, in retrospect. This is the Houston of the Contemporary Arts Museum and the Bayou Bend collection. A few people nodded to Cowboy, to The West, but in a beautiful and elevated style I could never hope to reach.
Two Developing Trends And One Long-Established Tradition, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:41am
Hi all. I’ve always taken months off posting here and here, to stay gleeful in the process. It’s hard to do now with so much happening but, despite my hesitancy, I think it’s a good idea so here we go. I’ll be back in May. I leave you now with two important developing trends: Thick cork-soled shoes Big crowds at Democratic rallies See you soon. I hope you have a wonderful weekend.