The temperature hovers around 63 degrees, it’s a bit breezy, but the sun shines brightly, nary a cloud in the sky. As we head outside my aging brain tries to factor the season, our latitude and the axis tilt of earth -all should add up to a warming sun, yet… Aloud I say to my two-year-old grandson, “You better wear a sweatshirt or something.” I hold up two articles of clothing and ask, "Do you want to wear this beige sweater or this red sweatshirt?” “Beige,” he says slowly, smiling, rolling the word around on his tongue as if to taste it. I'm fairly certain he’s not familiar with the word ‘beige.’ But, I can tell that he likes the sound of it and is filing it away for some future date when he'll use it, appropriately and in his parents presence, and they'll marvel, “Where does he get these words?”
Then he says quickly and emphatically, “No beige. Want red sweatshirt.” How early does a child develop a sense of clothing color preferences?
As a child, I’d have picked the beige clothing, nothing flashy or fancy for me. If I’d a choice between navy blue and bright yellow, navy would do fine, gray better yet. Mind you, I quite enjoy looking at people who are fashionably clad and I can readily identify a “sharp dresser.” I’ve just never had the gumption to be one.
This makes me quite the opposite of my younger sister. Her keener sense of fashion, especially as it applies to “matching” outfits, is most apparent to me when she appears on the golf course. I’ll be darned if not only does she manage to nicely match her clothing, but also her hat, shoes, golf glove, golf tees and even golf ball as well. For that’s the way she’ll have shopped, buying entire outfits at once. (She and her husband are avid snowmobilers. When they traded in their slightly used machines to purchase the newest souped-up version, she donated her hardly worn snowmobile outerwear, helmet, gloves and boots to charity, as they no longer harmonized with the color of her new snow machine. She immediately purchased all new color-coordinated gear.)
I, on the other hand, tend to buy clothing motivated by three factors, 1) it fits me, 2) it’s practical and not too flashy and 3) it’s on sale. In this manner I end up with a bunch of stuff I then have to figure out how to put together in some manner that demonstrates I have at least some semblance of color and pattern sense.
In my head I have a picture of the two of us being featured in some Golf for Women-type magazine, with my sister, modeling a well-coordinated outfit under the headline, “How to Dress for Success on the Golf Course,” and my photo on the opposite side titled, “Don’t Let This Happen to You!"
I mention this notion to my sister and she says, eyeing me carefully, “Oh, you’re not that bad. Although might I suggest limiting yourself to two, perhaps three, different colors at the max. And try tucking your shirt in and maybe adding a coordinated belt. No, you’re fine."
Recently, Reliable Husband and I had lunch in one of those charming little touristy towns with another couple. While they are both well-dressed, the wife of the twosome I especially consider to be a person who epitomizes someone with good fashion sense. As we strolled about after lunch, window browsing, she pointed out a couple of beautiful items that caught her eye. The only clothing that caught my eye was a black knit sweater that some fashionista had cut about six inches out of just above the elbows and sewn in bright, multi-colored splotches of fabric. I wish I could pull something like that off, I thought. But it takes some courage.
I ask my friend if she’s ever looked at some of Bill Cunningham’s “On the Street” fashion photos for the New York Times. She hadn’t. It occurred to me later that I should have also mentioned Iris Apfel. Or the wonderful blog, “What Ali Wore” by Zoe Spawton. Iris and Ali are at the top of my charts for gutsy folks of fashionable taste. I love looking at both of them, wishing I could be as courageous. But it’s not in my genetic code, I guess.
I’ve never understood the humor behind the supposedly funny pictures of Walmart shoppers. I don’t care to laugh at people who may be poor, people who might be obese and have difficulty obtaining well-fitting clothing, people with possible psychosocial disabilities, people from other cultures, or people who are just plain different. I had a dream once that someone snapped a shot of me and I’d waken to find that the picture had gone viral and I was the butt of worldwide laughter. That was enough to scare me into really forcefully wakening myself from the nightmare, with a vow to myself to never, ever raise an eyebrow at anyone else’s style of dress.
Here are some photos of people who possess a style I wish I had the courage to use in expression of my soul.
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| Check out Spawton's blog or book for closeups of Ali and his wonderful outfits |
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| There is an worth-watching documentary out on beautiful Iris Apfel |
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| Ditto for Bill Cunningham, great documentary out about him |
