Nesting, of sorts

I've amassed a small crate and garbage bag of things to give away or perhaps to sell. Once I started asking myself whether I really loved a piece or not and whether it made me feel good to wear it, it was easy to know what to discard.

It also helped to sort through the images I'd kept in a folder on my desktop to see what looks still inspired me. I started this folder about 7 years ago, just about the time my interest in fashion expanded. I had just started visiting the TFS forum, along with the now all-but-defunct Style Diary. A lot of the pictures brought back memories of my first exposure to accessible luxury. And of the people who posted on these websites, back in the infancy of the internet and fashion. Looking at the images of people I saw almost daily in one form or another, I missed a little the feeling of that community. It was where Susie Bubble, Rumi N., Jane A., and others got started, on the "What Are You Wearing Today" thread, before their blogs broke out in a big way. At the time, postings pics of your outfits was still considered a weird thing to do, and there was a kind of innocence in it, a simple pleasure in sharing something you were excited about.

But enough nostalgia. I've gotten into a bad habit of rambling in my posts. I guess one thing makes me think of other things. But then that's where a lot of the pleasure in clothing for me lies. Every piece of clothing jogs a memory, some more than others. If I were to return to the start of this post to try to make a coherent thought, I'm thinking that knowing what to discard means knowing just as fully what to keep. And in that regard, by looking at old inspirational photos and old photos of me, I decided to keep the more structured pieces and get rid of stuff I was just trying out but turned out not to be me at all. On some days, like this rainy Thursday, it feels good to shed some things and to realize that they never really fit.

Favorites

I pulled out my Moleskin last night and made a list. One is of what I would like to get, which is for the most part on hold until the transformation of my body works itself out. I think this enforced holding pattern is good, though, because it forces me to really consider my purchases.

The other list I wrote is of my current favorite items of clothing.

From left:
1. Rose-print sundress. Free People. I bought it years ago because I adored the print, even though the only one left was two sizes larger than my usual. Surprisingly, I prefer it for its looseness.

2. Wayfarer dress. Rachel Comey. My first tiny splurge on what would become my favorite designer. It doesn't look like much, but the little details make it special.

3. Striped t-shirt dress. APC. Again, a few sizes too big, but affording the perfect slouch. I feel completely at ease in this dress. The drape of the cotton keeps it from being too boxy.

4. Navy woven shirtdress with maroon buttons. Vintage. It's completely demure, but for that reason it works. A classic.

5. Knit cardigan. Vintage ("Handknit by Sis Lee"). The shoulders create a subtle cocooning. I didn't think I would like this as much as I do, but the color goes with a lot of my things.

6. Patterned brown button-down. Vintage. The ruffles and the shimmer of the pattern are unobtrusively feminine. I wear this with the sleeves rolled up whenever I want to be a little formal but still comfortable.

7.  Flowery blue button-down. Vintage, handmade. It's slightly sheer, cool, and crisp.

8. Plaid button-down. Vintage, handmade. This seems to me like the perfect vintage plaid.

9. Striped boatneck top. Rachel Comey. Another unexpected favorite. I had added it to my order just to get free shipping. One of the few fitted things I like.

10. Chambray skirt. Vintage. I love white tees and chambray skirts in the summer.

11. Accessories. Heart tote, Anthropologie. Denim bag, Paul & Joe Sister. Polka-dot scarf, J. Crew.

Generally, I haven't posted my actual clothes before because they just don't have the snap and cool-factor that I see in so many other blogs. In fact, looking at this collection of my favorites, I can see why a student once told me that my style was "granola chic." Sigh. I'd still rather approximate the clean and sharp look that I see elsewhere, but this is my skin, I suppose, and I feel most comfortable in this style. They reflect the layers of my history. There's the thread of hippie-ness from my years in Austin, the grunge of the 90s, my love of vintage and thrift, the warm climes I'm used to, and the oversized clothes I got used to wearing when even the smallest sizes hung off me (definitely not the case anymore!).

The other thing the list made me realize was that I collect an excess of clothes when I can't get just the right thing. Shoes, skirts, and jeans make up the bulk of my wardrobe, but few of those things show up on a list of favorites. So now I can see why it's important to find the exactly perfect item. It saves you from going through endless versions in search of it.

Deletion

I've always approached my wardrobe as something that I have to acquire--like, if I can find the perfect black skirt and other items on my list, I'll arrive at a fully functional closet.  But I'm starting to think that another way to get at the essentials in your closet--and indeed, in your life--is by deleting the extraneous.

Last week I went on a 7-day road trip by myself (although technically, my guinea pig came along . . . that's a long story in itself) partway down the Pacific Coast Highway. I found all that solitude wonderfully rejuvenating and quieting. It made me think of the line in a T.S. Eliot poem, "Distracted from distraction by distraction" and how symptomatic of modern life all that noise is. The bursting closet, the television, the internet, they all distract us from our own inattention. I suppose one purpose I have with editing down to a minimal wardrobe is to find a way to enjoy but also contain this hobby, which easily can become both consuming and trivial.

It was great to go camping in the woods and explore the back roads and small towns with each day wide open. And strange to discover that I could take away all the things that I thought would be necessary and still be perfectly fine. I didn't need a radio (stolen a few months ago in Tacoma), a locked door, or even a companion for the trip. 

But I guess I'm moving beyond the ken of this blog. Short of these existential concerns, I also realized more simply that all I needed last week was a boiled wool sweater, a long-sleeve tee shirt, and some hiking pants from The North Face. That's the beauty of traveling, I think: you take what you need with you, and you realize how very little you need.

Wardrobe for a different self

I have a pair of Chie Mihara high heels that I bought from Anthropologie that I can't bear to return, even though I haven't worn them yet and don't actually see myself wearing them.  It's like I'm saving them for a future self, or an alternate self that hasn't come into existence yet.  And maybe never will.

I like keeping some things for that reason.  I know, too much of this would result in an impractical wardrobe with little use in my real life.  So I know to avoid most of the accoutrements of the A. Wang, goth-y, downtown girl look that has pervaded fashion and blogs for some time.  While I think the attitude and the clothes are infinitely cool, I know that that girl is something I will never be, so I know not to try to approximate (in fashion lingo, I can't "pull it off").

But I think a little bit, just a dose, of that imaginative possibility taps into the self-inventing part of fashion that appeals to me so much.  Like maybe, this silvery-pink pair of strappy high heels will call into existence the girl I'd like to be.  Or a signature lipstick would help snap me into focus.  Or something like that.*


* (Though again, I have to qualify that and wonder how much of it is the Machine at work.  How much of this difference between real self and idealized self is the production of magazines, and models, and editors, and the whole industry saying that this is what you should be and look like, and here, let me sell you something that would help get you there.)

Statement of purpose

I'm constantly tickering with this blog because I really don't know yet what I want out of it.  Originally, it was a fashion blog, but I found myself bothered by my contribution to the endless consumption of fashion and trends.  The thing is, I enjoy fashion and clothing and beauty, but the enjoyment of those things too often veers into a mindless cycle of coveting and (over)spending.

My newest idea is that I would like to be a bit more conscious about what I bring into my life, starting with fashion but also branching into my everyday experiences.  I think the blog could help me do that.

I read an article recently in the NYT about women who limit their wardrobe to six items, or who vow not to spend money on new acquisitions for a year.  There's definitely something in the air.  And while I don't want to commit myself to anything so structured as those projects, I would like to use this blog to record my own project of self-discovery.

I'm thinking this blog could record how I relate and respond to fashion. I think about brands and trends, but more as a milieu from which to create a distillation of personal style. My intent is to move closer to the "French method" of shopping: less items, but with more purpose.* The blog will mostly track my progress with that intention. My goal is to have a streamlined wardrobe that perfectly meets my desires for self-expression. As you might imagine, then, this blog will always be a work in progress.

Somehow, I trust that simply by recording observations in my blog, I can get closer to an understanding of how I would like to express myself through my clothes and in my experiences, and how I am to be in the world.

After all, personal style is a rhetoric of its own. The clothes we wear can tell others at a glance what we do, who we are, who we align with, etc. We communicate through our clothes as we do with our words. Our clothes both reveal something about us, but they conceal things as well--literally and figuratively. And clothes contain a history of our different selves (Birkenstocks remind me of college in Austin, always), just like a diary might.

Whoo!  I think I wrote most of this for myself rather than anybody else, but if anyone read this far, I congratulate you.  I think this is just about how far I'll cast my net.  

* Thanks to Dead Fleurette and the TFS thread for the inspiration!

And as a first marker of the old, here's my old statement of purpose for this blog:

I live in the Pacific Northwest. I'm a teacher and a hobbyist. I keep all manner of rodentia.

I think a lot about the inconstancy of memory--how the things that seem indelible eventually fade. So I have started this blog in part as an attempt to pin down some of the ephemera of my daily life.

I used to focus on fashion, but lately I find that I'm often more interested in other things.

There's a little bit of backstory in my now-defunct fashion blog, Destitute Fashion.

Street style

I was walking by the (locally) famous Jimi Hendrix statue in Seattle today when a woman stopped me to ask if she could take my picture for her street style blog.  I declined, citing "camera shy" issues, but I was flattered, and she was very gracious. She gave me her card so I could check out her blog.  Here's her website: It's My Darlin.  Cute little morsel of local streetstyle, fashion and food.

I walked home glancing at my reflection in shop windows, trying to figure out why she stopped me.  Although it's not the first time I've been stopped for a street style picture, it still amazes me.  You have to understand, I was clueless about clothes for most of my life.  It was only in my 20's that I decided that I needed to overhaul my style, which heretofore had comprised of overalls and t-shirts.  When I asked my best friend for advice, she directed me to Lucky magazine, the "magazine about shopping."  One subscription and a Lucky book later, I felt like I had a better idea of how to put myself together.

Since then, I think I've branched out and discovered my own personal style, which, ironically enough, takes me halfway back to my overall days.  So on the day that the photographer stopped me, I was wearing a fuzzy wool hat, plaid jacket, grey skirt with a bowtie, and granny shoes.  It's like how I might have dressed before the whole fashion thing happened, but with a better sense of why.

October rain

Winter has arrived in Seattle. It's not a time of the year, but a feeling.

The darkness is getting longer, the days damper, the skies lower, and the mood greyer. Walking home today, I saw a lot of students unprepared for the rain. Few of us had thought to wear the rain jackets that eventually become de rigueur this time of year. Some students, mostly the ones newly arrived from other countries, struggled with umbrellas in the wind. Most of us just huddled down into ourselves like ducklings.