Tag Archives: clothes

The Cure for Indecision

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Women are naturally indecisive creatures. A lot of us are born perfectionists—we want every hair in place, every duck in a row. It’s not a flaw in our character; more like an exaggeration of a natural inclination for order in our lives.

Our outfits, for example. Even the most conservative among us know the importance of looking nice. Matching is a big deal for us. Coordinating is an art form. There are a few brave souls among us who will dare to pull of things like black and brown, or green and orange, or two shades of red. No matter what we pull together, rarely does a woman ever walk out of the house without asking someone (if only the cat) if her outfit looks ok.

In the dorms, we ask our roommates.

In our room, it seems like we’re all super indecisive when it comes to what we wear. Additionally, we all have very diverse styles. One closet is full of roses, fire reds, and maxi dresses. Another is full of soft flower shades, khakis, and neutrals. One half of my closet is neatly arranged greys, blacks, pinstripes, and a rack of brightly colored power heels. The other half—mine—look like a rainbow threw up in there. Yet we all turn to each other for fashion advice.

After weeks of appraising each other’s outfits and offering advice on color, cut, and other girlish concerns, we’ve decided that the best thing to do is just encourage each other to wear what comes intuitively. We size up each other’s outfits, smile, point, and say “Wear that!”

Feeling the love.

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Vertically Advantaged

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It is an inescapable fact of female living that the one thing that you need to buy wardrobe-wise will inevitably be out of season whenever it is that you need it most.

When you’re looking for a simple grey skirt, pastels will be in. When all you want is an argyle sweater, suddenly cables are all the rage again. If you want flat, you’ll find heels. If you want boots, the rest of the world wants espadrilles.

First world woes, I know. But if the fashion world would just get its hoity-toity act together and think sensibly, my life, and the life of most women, would be considerably less frustrating.

I am currently in search of flat sandals. One, my wide feet are more comfortable when they have room to move around. Two, I don’t like shoes with heels. Three, the warmth of my feet is directly related to the warmth of my body, therefore I don’t want to wear anything that will keep my feet hot and sweaty during these early weeks of spring. Last but not least, I am currently seeing someone who is precisely my height, and if I wear anything with even the tiniest heel, I look about two inches taller. I don’t mind, and I’m not sure he does either, but just to be on the safe side, I’m trying to invest in flats. I don’t mind at all. See reason number Two.

It’s springtime, and the sandal sales and sandal shoppers are out in droves. Every Sunday afternoon I check the sales papers in search of perfectly flat sandals—no heel, all sole, with some kind of ornamentation on the strap. I see girls wearing them all the time. Piece of cake, right?

Apparently those girls bought them all last spring. No matter where I go, all I can find is strappy sandals with ten-inch heels that look like they could give you bunions in about five minutes of walking. If they have no heels, their soles are about two inches thick—flat, but defeating the purpose of a flat shoe. Apparently all the other women in the world are self-conscious about their height except me, who is desperately trying to look shorter.

The one pair I did find that fit all the qualifications cost as much as a down payment on a Ferrari. Why, I don’t know—the thing had less material than half a hankie, and I’m pretty sure the sole was made of cardboard. Fashion. Feh.

I know that most of the women in the world will disagree with me when I say this. But it must be said: Whoever invented the high-heeled shoe should be slapped. Shame on him/her for putting women through the pain he/she has. If the Lord wanted girls to walk that way, He would have bent our feet into permanent tip-toes and left it at that. He gave us bottoms to our feet for a reason, ladies. I’m positive that He fully intended us to use our feet, not abuse them.

(Ironically, if my memory serves me correctly, it was a man who invented the first high-heeled shoes for the vertically challenged Louis XIV. So, yes, high-heels were originally intended for men. Maybe it should have stayed that way. Maybe.)

Meanwhile, I continue to search for my flat sandals. They’ve got to be out there somewhere—whether they’re popular right now or not. I will find them. Then my toes will be free, my feet will be cool, my feet will not hurt, and my gentleman friend and I can see eye-to-eye.

If any of you ladies know of a good sale, let me know.

Dumpy is the New Hip

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This just in: conservative skirts are the new hot item for fall.

No, I’m not a fashionista. Anyone who knows anything about me can tell you that I don’t care two cents for anything that the runways regurgitate. My wardrobe consists of flowy, loose fitting tiered skirts and brightly-colored tops and almost all of my shoes are sensible flats. I refuse to get my ears pierced—if God wanted holes in the lobes He would have put them there—and I keep my nails at their natural brownish-pink. I have no idea what my skin type is and if anyone mentions makeup I break out in hives. So, no, I don’t follow fashion. But according to the Wall Street Journal, it seems that fashion is following me.

I never read the WSJ, but my dad does, and yesterday one of the articles caught my eye. According to the article, skirts whose hemlines fall between the knee and the ankle are suddenly the next big thing.

This surprised me. My whole life I’ve been told by my fashion-conscious friends that mid-length is the dumpiest thing you could wear shy of a hand-me-down Mumu. Emphasizes how wide your calves are, etc. Overall, it’s always been considered a blah, noncommittal length. But now mid-length skirts are making their noncommittal way to the headlines.

Why? Because, apparently, that length is ideal for early fall. Not so long that you suffocate, but not so short that you’ll freeze. Also, they leave a lot to the imagination (neat concept, ladies), so they have an attractive, mysterious—and I quote—“allure.”

Brilliant. I’ve known this for years. Half of my skirts are that length. I am so ahead of my time.