Awesome Fuchsia Hoody

At last night's Payne Bouchier holiday party at the Artists for Humanity Epicenter building, I couldn't take my eyes off this fuchsia boiled wool hoody: the silhouette, the three leather ties that accentuate the waist (which you can't see in the photo), the shawl collar, the bell sleeves, the pintucks front and back. This girl's mother bought it in Christiana, Copenhagen — a sort of mecca for hippies and environmentalists — and gives it tons of street cred, but means that even if I get myself over there, and find the designer (the label said: Defoyn), it's probably one of a kind. The perfect jacket for a snowy December in Boston.

Tree-trimming Party Ornament

For my neighbor's tree-trimming party, I snapped a picture of his Bengal cat Kimba. In sewing class, I sewed together the sandwich of red felt medallions that I'd edged with pinking shears, on top of six sheets of red and pink tulle. Then I sewed a second circle through the paper images et voila!

Nanowrimo Winner!

Nanowrimo winner means I wrote 50,000 words over the course of November 07. This was the eighth annual National Novel Writing Month with 90,000 international participants. It was thrilling at first, then grueling, and then it was over. I managed 2,000 words a day until my Thanksgiving visit to Bar Harbor, where I fell to 500 words a day, hitting the final count on 11/26/07. It was more than I'd ever written at once and I'm amazed I did it.

Unfortunately, I haven't finished. At the TGIO (Thank God It's Over) party at Subway in the Fenway, I learned about Nanofimo (National Novel Finishing Month) in December (NOW!) and am trying to gear up for an impossible 30,000 more words. Then there's Nanoedmo, National Novel Editing Month, in March 08. Nothing focuses the mind like a hanging, says Samuel Johnson. Or a deadline, says I.

What is it about? It is a fashion mystery: a fashion designer's boyfriend goes missing, turns out to have enough debt to get mixed up in some luxury counterfeiting of designer shoes (Gucci, Prada) made in China and maybe connected to the yakuza... an excerpt.

MCoA fashion at BPL

After the 9/8/07 panel discussion about jobs in fashion for teens (a kickoff to Boston Fashion Week 2007) (a little late on the posting, I know!), I found this exhibit at the Boston Public Library. I was floored by the creativity of the non-textile dresses: the pink and black foam cut-out overlays, the cupcake cups (not kidding!), the fake flowers, the rope!

Closet hunting at IKEA

If a hurricane blew through your closet and left your clothes in heaps, would you:
A) not notice?
B) move things into neater heaps each time you got dressed?
C) rally all your strength to put everything back in its proper place?
D) fall on the floor because without the sense of order that your closet imposes on your life, you are utterly useless?

I vacillate between B and A and D (B-A-D). I can’t choose C because my clothes rack is currently unstable and will fall if I put clothes back on it. Long story short: we bought a condo in a work/live artists’ building, not a luxury loft building where I’m sure all the built-in fixtures not only will not fall down, but will also be quite stylish. We consider ourselves lucky to live here, but at the closing, they might as well have given us a list of items that we would have to fix.

And it’s not just my closet. About six months ago, a neighbor reported that his clothes rack had fallen down in the middle of the night. Although he’s in a heavy metal country band and probably has a few Elvis-type costumes in his closet, I don’t think the weight of our clothes is the issue. It’s also happening in my husband’s closet. The wire shelf has started its slow leaning away from the wall. If I took a poll this weekend at the condo meeting, I’d probably hear of more cases.

My husband was for a quick fix because overnight guests were coming who would want a house tour and if they saw our clothes-strewn bedroom, they might call one of those makeover shows, and we’d have to smile and pretend we were not humiliated when a crew and cameras came knocking. But I prevailed.

I found a wardrobe storage system that I liked at IKEA called Antonius, although what really hooked me was the flash-based video, which fast-forwarded through five or so installation scenarios. I paused and restarted the video over and over to see exactly how the system was assembled. IKEA's storage solutions seem to take ten seconds to install in any room you might want. A cunningly easy, and deceptive, invitation to picture my clothes on those shelves and those racks.

On Columbus Day, my husband and I pulled up to the big blue box (with yellow accents) that is IKEA -- in Stoughton, MA. At the top of the escalator on the display floor, we spot the perfect wardrobe storage system called Pax. A sign that this quest would be easy, fast, efficient? We oohed and awed, touched the wood shelves and pullout hanging racks, and took pictures with our iPhones.

The fact that we had a single purpose made it easier to combat big building fatigue syndrome, which involves yawning and loss of energy and a growing claustrophobia. People everywhere. IKEA-world. A peak into an organized future of immaculate closets, and then a plunge into the depths of overwhelming tiredness at finding yourself and tons of strangers milling around coveting lifestyle improvements that we could or could not or could partially afford, manifesting itself in the desire to eat, which became unbearable by the time we hit the strategically placed cafeteria with its legendary Swedish meatballs (a pass for me) and the slightly better than second-rate salmon and veggie plate (my husband’s choice) or the safe Greek salad (my pick).

My pear soda refreshes me. Me: “So, are we going to buy these frames?” Husband: “No. I’m going to make them.” Me: “But are you going to make all those different drawers and shelves and hanger thingies?” Husband: “No. We’re going to buy those.” My husband who is a hybrid of contractor and architect has since sketched on computer the exact configuration of components to fit into his closet.



I remain eternally grateful that I married a man who is handy. Otherwise I would have had to hire someone to customize the IKEA system (their “boxes” are too tall for our closets). Or I would’ve had to hire the California Closet people, which my husband says could cost $4,000. We’re hoping to spend $900 per closet, excluding the cost of our (mostly his) labor.

Calvin Klein Spring 2008 Runway Review

After 5 years at Calvin Klein, Francisco Costa seemed to reach back into the company’s archives for his ode to simple elegance. Inspired by Laura Wilson’s book about the Hutterites of Montana, a religious group less assimilated than the Amish of Ohio and Pennsylvania, Costa challenged himself to eliminate any unnecessary design elements, including extra seams, which led to one continuous curving seam on some of the jersey dresses. His Spring 2008 Collection was all monochromatic neutrals, offering a refreshing palette cleanser of whites, grays, tans, and a few subdued but rich shades of aqua, rust, and spring green. Some of the first white ensembles were so austere that they suggested medical recovery more than refined luxury. But the sensuality of the fabrics begin to speak for themselves, especially in the skirts and dresses (mid-calf or full-length), which appeared to ripple whether the models were walking or standing still. Front-row admirers included Kate Bosworth and Julianne Moore, who changed into fresh Calvin Klein outfits after the show to co-host the after-party.
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What Bands Influenced My Clothes

First up, the rocker-cowboy look. I can pinpoint this look to my favorite band, which was Traffic. They had this album and song called “The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys.” The song's writer, Jim Capaldi, was inspired by an actor with a rebel attitude, a guy who walked around in his cowboy boots and leather jacket. My logic was: the next best thing to being them is dressing like them. My Frye Boots, classic Campus style, were a form of tribute and a huge departure for me. I’d just transferred from a private girls’ school where we all had to wear uniforms and it was like being let out of the zoo—being able to choose your own clothes. I happily spent hours polishing those boots (instead of my dress-code oxfords).

Next? The Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album and the marching band jackets that the band are wearing on the cover. In my thrift shopping when I visited my divorced dad in Greenwich Village, I found an excellent replica. Orange wool with blue lining and heavy gold trim around the neck and down the placket. All the little hook and eye clasps up the front that discouraged me from closing it and made me stand around at dances or parties, sweating underneath.

A later Beatles’ influence would be my glasses frames, which I got from a semi-retired optometrist (on Bromfield Street in Boston) who had drawers full of antique frames. Little black specs. When I held them up to the light, I saw that they were actually a dark translucent purple. I had a purple tint put into the lenses because “light hurt my eyes.” As I would learn (and to the frustration of my future husband), the fringe benefit was that at loft parties or rock clubs, cute guys would often stop and say, “Hey, cool glasses. Very John Lennon.”

Then there were those girl dance rock bands: Lene Lovich (“Lucky Number”), Cyndi Lauper (“Girls Just Want to Have Fun”), and early ungroomed Madonna ("Borderline" and "Lucky Star"). I didn’t really wear skirts until I found a yellow-pink-black oversized checked poufy one that any of these singers could have worn. I wore it with a black top and, because it was so short, black leggings or bike shorts instead of a slip. For bracelets, I wore a studded black leather band and lots of black rubber gaskets, à la Madonna. My boots were black Kenneth Cole lace-ups, which I wore out dancing and resoled and relaced and polished faithfully. After a visit to San Francisco, I dyed my hair black and cut it in short, punked-out spikes.

What comes after is the less exciting phase of the messy-rocker anti-fashion style of lyrical, heart wrenching noise bands: Sonic Youth or Patty Smith or the Pixies! Favorite t-shirts (mostly black in different fabrics) and jeans (mostly black) worn so often they frayed. A few leather jackets. And then came the long-term serious job and its subtle influence towards all things conservative. Or classic. Definitely no costume dressing. And fewer and fewer bands. A good point to drop this narrative, since it's lost its sense of drama!

Newbury Street Shopping Tour

My style is never static; my color preferences have evolved after certain events, like a class called “Color Your Image,” where I learned I was a “late autumn” so I began to inject vibrant pinks, reds, and oranges into the sea of black in my closet. On a trip to Venice in early 2001, I saw smartly dressed Venetian women walking through the campos and calles in a color palette of strong reds, tans, and whites--the last two, colors I’d always thought would wash me out. As a “late autumn,” brown is supposed to be my black, my primary neutral, and so I am currently beginning to add more brown to my wardrobe.

The class I took yesterday, “Fashion for Boomers," will definitely affect my style evolution in ways I cannot yet predict. Wardrobe consultant Susan Mullins turned out to be down-home glamorous and breathy with long eyelashes and frosted pink lips. Before we toured the three shops (a boutique off Newbury, Cuoio shoe store on Newbury, and Neiman Marcus at Copley), she recited basic fashion strategies: highlight your strengths and cover your flaws. For inverted triangle types like me, darker shades on top to minimize and lighter shades below to draw the eye. For pear-shaped types like one woman and Susan herself, more volume on top and tailored shapes below (she pointed to the straight-legged black pants I was wearing!) to balance out the proportions.

At Jari Boutique (236 Clarendon Street), Susan greeted the saleswoman and then led us from one display to another, whispering things like, “See that bronze metallic raincoat? It’s not too shiny. It would be great for any of you. It’s a little boxy but still classic.” We had been encouraged to incorporate the metallic trend into our accessories, and since I was wearing bronze metallic Mary Jane flats (Me Too, $50 on sale, Cuoio at Faneuil Hall), I was on my way.

Next, we considered the necklace on a mannequin wearing a drapy orange boiled wool jacket over a knitted black dress; it was probably made of some kind of plastic or resin and looked like orange banana chips rimmed with black. One woman said that’s the kind of jewelry she loved. The other woman asked if Susan bought the jewelry for each outfit and wore it only as an ensemble. Big surprise to me: Susan said yes! I thought that was kind of ... rigid. Since I don’t have enough jewelry to do that, and hardly wear it anyway, I need jewelry that can go with more than one thing!

At Neiman Marcus (Needless Markup!), Susan had expected to show us the lines of Dana Buchman and Tracy Reese. “We don’t carry those bridge lines anymore,” sniffed the saleswoman. “But we do have St. John Sport and Rebecca and Drew.” And that was the moment, for me, that redeemed the entire cost of the class because Susan was our buffer. Amid the chatter of our little group, I could ignore the feeling that I was being judged too poor to shop here and focus instead on our quest for a wardrobe basic: a patterned silky shirt that could go from day to night. Susan finally found an example to show us, and although it wasn’t any of my colors, I could feel myself changing as I considered it. This is exactly the type of thing I don’t have and could spend time looking for down the road! At our last stop, Susan explained that jeans can be dressy if they are dark. She put into words something I’d understood nonverbally: the concept of daytime and nighttime jeans. Daytime jeans go with sneakers; nighttime jeans go with heels, an evening shirt, and a jacket!

Above all, Susan encouraged us to go outside of our comfort zone, whether that meant trying a new store, a new color, or a new category of accessory. Following orders, on my way out, without the protection of the group, I browsed through some of the big names like Dolce & Gabbana, Stella McCartney, and Prada, where I lingered over a jacket I’d seen worn by Don Cheadle in the August 07 issue of Esquire. A black wool jacket that morphed into navy silk three quarters of the way down. Not a blend of wool and silk but two separate regions of each! A masterpiece of construction.

Pom-Pom Topiary

Our five-day trip to Madison, Wisconsin, was filled with friends, brew pubs (Great Dane!), Taliesin (in Spring Green), and squeaky cheese curds (in Arena)! But the best part, no lie, the part that made me oblivious to ravenous mosquitoes, the part that made me thank my lucky stars and my horoscope and any other random harbinger of luck, was the topiary at the Olbrich Botanical Gardens. Not so much the cute little bear (and his mother obscured by tourists) which I saw on the way out and which anyone could love despite the lighting quality of my iPhone's picture, but the other one that I call the pom-pom topiary. Something about the off-center and imbalanced nature of all the pom poms, and the way all six line up so nicely in the shadow. Also, the fact that the topiary balls remind me of polka dots, which I have a mild obsession over.

7 Pillows Made in Sewing Class!

By the time my sewing class ends this week, my two couches will be seven pillows richer. Every time I look at one of my six finished pillows, I have a little moment of disbelief. Did I really do that? It seems that with each pillow, I’ve become more interested in sewing, clothes, and fashion. (I’m almost through Season 2 of Project Runway on DVD and can’t wait for Season 4 to start! And why the heck isn’t Season 3 on DVD yet?) Being laid off recently allowed me to consider what interests I’d always wanted to pursue. When I came across my old sewing machine stashed in my closet, I remembered all the times I’d said I wished I’d properly learned how to sew. Instead of thinking that it was too late for me to learn a new time-consuming skill, I now had no excuse.

Searching for fabric was a blast, of course; it’s like shopping for clothes except you can’t try anything on. At Jo-Ann Fabrics in West Roxbury, my husband and I picked three complementary patterns: a maroon stretch corduroy, a red cotton ticking, and a cherry-red stiff cotton with white-and-metallic circles. In the first class, our teacher gave us three simple rules: no fabrics with a nap, durable easy-to-work-with fabrics (no silks), and no patterns that would need to match up. Turns out I broke two of those rules. The corduroy had a nap, which meant that during construction I needed to keep checking which direction the nap was running so that the front and back matched up. The red ticking was the sort of pattern that should match up on both sides, something which turned out to be close to impossible by perfectionist’s standards.

Like all things Boston, the Eliot School has a claim to historical fame, being the fourth oldest school in the country. At its current address since 1832, the classrooms have a distinctly dated and threadbare (pun intended!) feel. This summer, we sewing students often had to step over a sleepy Golden Retriever to enter the two-story building, go past the large first-floor room for woodworking and upholstery classes, up the creaky uneven stairs to the smaller of two classrooms. After choosing one of the Singer machines lined up on either side of the room, we spread out our fabric for cutting on a large table in the middle.

The biggest lesson I’ve learned over the course of three sessions is how much patience is needed to turn cool fabric into cool pillows (at least I think they're cool). While I can’t be positive I remember how to thread a machine correctly, I can recognize when the bobbin is in incorrectly. If a peek underneath the fabric reveals long, wasteful loops of thread, then the bobbin is in incorrectly and the stitches need to be taken out, pronto! Another challenge, depending on how high your standards are, is getting seams straight. My standards are still high, but after undoing and resewing my first hundred seams, I may think differently. I’ve learned a few tricks, like reinforcing seams by backing up and going forward a few times. Or snipping off extra fabric (after the seam is set) with pinking shears, in order to prevent threads from unraveling.

There is so much more to learn. I will probably sign up for another session this fall. I saw a Very Easy Vogue pattern online for a nice LBD. Or maybe I’ll make an apron out of all my leftover pillow fabric! Or an iPhone holder for my new iPhone!???