Please Don't Come Back (In Style!)

I had surgery on my left shoulder in February, which made pretty much everything in life a major struggle, so I hope anyone who has actually enjoyed reading these silly musings will forgive me for  neglecting this blog.  I'm happy to report that I am doing better.  Not completely well yet, but definitely not as miserable as I was for so very long.

I am still going to physical therapy three days a week.  I'm grateful that my therapist is a young woman who, along with being a Wofford grad and very good at her profession, is extremely chatty.  She can always take my mind off discomfort with her stories, especially about the various adventures she and her boyfriend and their crowd of 30-something friends have.  Ah, to be young again!

Today's stories involved watching the USA v. Portugal World Cup match in Greenville.   It seems that she was more interested in scoping out the fashion plates in the crowd than in following the game.  (Sure can't blame her there.  I don't get soccer either.  Of course, I still haven't figured out hockey, basketball, or baseball, so I guess I'm just not much of a sports person.  I think I only understand football due to spending four years in marching band, watching our home team get pummeled on a regular basis...)

Anyway, my therapist noticed that many of the 20 year olds at the event were wearing high-waisted denim shorts. "Just like the 1980s!" I laughed.  She was of the opinion that they were the most hideous things ever.  And...you know what...I think she has a point.  While I'm no fan of very low hip huggers, when I look back at pictures of myself in college, I shudder at my high-waisted jeans that would have given any pair of grandpa-in-a-retirement-home's pants a run for the money.  Yikes.  It didn't help that I had what my mother referred to as a "pot belly" which the high-waisted pants and tucked-in shirts only accented.  If the time machine is ever invented, I don't want to go back and witness some grand historical event, I just want to zip back several decades and give myself some fashion advice.  That, or steal my best friend's camera so she can't record all those disasters for Throwback Thursdays without end.

Now, admittedly, young women with great bodies can get away with wearing high-waisted denim shorts.  I'm sure these teenagers/twenty-year-olds think they've discovered something grand.  But the fashion historian (and survivor) in me can't help but think...ick.  No.  Not this again.

Of course, fashion does have cycles, and yesterday's trend is today's vintage.  With the popularity of shows like Mad Men and so many big movies (American Hustle, Wolf of Wall Street, and even X-Men: Days of Future Past) set in the 60s, 70s, and 80s, the later decades of the 20th Century are having their moments.  What's next, "power suits"?  "Jelly shoes"?  "Leg warmers"?  The mind boggles and the blood runs cold!

So what fashion statement of the last 40 or so years do you hope is safely locked away in the past and won't be unleashed on a runway or sidewalk near you anytime soon?

How (Not?) To Be A Tacky Tourist

Of all the fashion clichés, one of the most recognizable is the “tacky tourist," especially the kind of tourist who vacations in Florida.  It takes almost no effort to dress this individual in one’s imagination.  A loud floral shirt, baggy cargo shorts, either sandals with socks or oversized and out-of-date sneakers, a hat/visor, and a huge camera---bonus points if you add colored zinc oxide on the tourist's nose and the angry red of a sunburn on his previously pasty legs.  His female counterpart is equally unattractive, with even more loudly mismatched prints on her shirt and shorts combo plus an impractically large bag and sassy thong sandals.  Don’t forget the array of ‘native’ bangles and beads that she’s collected on her travels.  Often the tacky tourist couple are trailed by their offspring, which come in one of two varieties: over-stimulated, over-indulged children (easily identified by their character-themed t-shirts, ice cream-stained lips, and tantrum-swollen eyes) and sullen, resentful teenagers (quickly categorized by their embarrassed expressions, shuffling gaits, and permanently implanted earbuds).

A do or a don't?  You decide!

And now here’s the shocking part---I absolutely love these people, in all their shallow, petty glory.  Why?  Because I’m a native Floridian and these folks keep my wacky but dearly beloved home state aloft.  Over 75 million of them visited Florida last year, pumping billions of dollars into the economy.  Untold crimes against fashion can be tolerated when the financial stakes are this high.

And even though I’m a native, I’m frequently a Florida tourist myself.  I love exploring the state, and I take every chance I get to check out some part of it that I’ve never seen before. Only two years ago I saw the Everglades for the first time, and this year I’m looking forward to jaunts to Venice and Palm Coast.  Over the interim break I texted two words to my biologist husband –KEY DEER!  We have to get down to the Keys to see the cutest little critters on the planet.  

Aren't they adorable?  No idea who they are, but I dare anyone to call them tacky!

So as a native and a tourist, could I give advice on how NOT to do the tacky thing when you go to Florida?  Certainly I could, but… honestly, I’d have to say the best thing to do is just embrace the whole tourist vibe.  You’re going on vacation---have fun!  This is Florida, not Paris or Milan, nobody really expects to see high style on our tourists.  Buy the mouse ears and wear them.  Play along with both your inner child and the one you gave birth to.  When I’m in a theme park, the people I see who are having the best time (and really getting their money's worth!) are the ones who left their fashion taste and their dignity at home. 

But you say you still want to look non-tacky?  You cringe at the thought of being forever on Instagram looking like a refugee from a gift shop?  You don't want your future children to laugh at you or your current ones to hang their heads in shame? OK then, here are a few simple pointers from a proud Florida girl.

Sunscreen is your friend!  Use it lavishly!  Florida isn’t called the Sunshine State for nothing, and the easiest way to spot a tourist is by his/her five-alarm skin.  It’s both painful and dangerous to get badly sunburnt.  Oddly enough, many of the folks I grew up with never had suntans.  I think this is because we’re smart enough to worship at the shrine of air conditioning and let the tourists do all the ‘cooking’.

A white blouse and khaki shorts will always be classic; more 'traveler' than 'tourist.'

Dark colors are not chic in Florida.  Leave your dark skinny jeans at home and avoid the temptation to pack  heavyweight tees.  Cool colors in lightweight fabrics will feel the best when the temperature climbs into the 90s.   Don't go for the skin-tight look; remember that if your shirt or blouse is a little loose, air will flow through it.  A crisp, ironed, sleeveless blouse is far more comfortable (and more fashionable) than a tight t-shirt in the daytime, plus a simple blouse with sleeves and a pretty necklace is 'dressy' enough for all but the fanciest restaurants.  Want to be the coolest of all?  Wear white cotton or linen garments.  Ladies might also consider skirts as a stylish and comfortable alternative to pants, at least when browsing all those divine little shops in St. Augustine or Palm Beach. (Editorial confession: I see a lot of Florida women in maxi-dresses.  Personally, I think they look good on maybe one out of a hundred females, and I keep hoping they'll go out of style but they seem very stubborn.  I tried one on and instantly felt (a) ridiculous and (b) like I was wrapped up in a stifling blanket.  But if you think you can rock it and not melt, go for it!)

No.  Please.  Don't!

Hats are a good idea.  Invest in a nice, lightweight cloth or straw one.  Avoid the styles that have a theme park logo wrapped around them or are so big they shade you and your three kids.  You want to go for something that protects your face but also has a certain amount of discretion.

Whatever shoes you plan to take---whether practical sneakers, chunky but comfy walking shoes, or sandals of any variety---should be thoroughly broken in before you ever leave home.  And by broken in I don’t mean worn once to Publix---I mean broken in thoroughly!  Or better yet, take an older set of shoes, even if they aren’t as cute as your new ones.  There is nothing adorable about blood blisters.  And for the love of Mickey Mouse, don’t wear flip flops to a theme park!  This is the number one mistake that visitors make.  Flip-flops are perfect for soft, sandy beaches and for lounging around the hotel pool.  Theme parks like Disney, Universal, and Busch Gardens are paved in hard, HOT concrete; a visit in high summer can leave the unwary pedestrian crippled in less than an hour.  Also, with scrambling on and off rides, flip flops are hazardous. The last place in the Magic Kingdom you want to visit is the first aid station, especially if Goofy is the physician on call.

And my final bit of fashion advice---don’t be a pack mule.  Being weighted down with heavy purses, camera bags, fanny packs, etc is both impractical and unattractive.  It leads to sweating, soreness, and grumpiness plus…it makes you look like a tourist.  Stop being a cheapskate, Dad.  It isn’t worth the labor to haul a day’s worth of chow on your back just to avoid paying slightly more for burgers and fries in a park.  Nobody looks good fumbling with maps; download the map app instead on your cell phone to free your hands.  Of course you want pictures, so do bring your camera.  A quality camera bag can pull double duty as a carry-all for basic necessities.  Ladies should invest in a sleek across the body purse, and keep it as light as possible.  Shades, identification, credit card, sunscreen, and you’re ready to have almost any adventure Florida has to offer.

I’ve read hundred of articles on ‘how to blend in’ or ‘how not to look like a tourist.’  But face it, if you're in Disney World or on the beach in the first place, you are a tourist!  You're not going to fool anyone that you're a local.  So enjoy your travels, take lots of pictures, and later in life look back at your journeys with fond memories and a giggle over what you wore while making them.

My Seventh Grade Fashion Lesson

It's never pleasant to learn a lesson 'the hard way.'  But one thing is certain, a lesson that is driven home painfully will be one that sticks for a lifetime.

(It wasn't exactly this Ann Taylor blouse---but I felt like a young fashionista anyway!)

When I was in seventh grade, I had a favorite blouse.  It was a hand-me-down from a neighbor, made of silky-finished white cotton with long sleeves and a big ruffle in the front.  The ruffle was trimmed all around with red thread.  (Before you laugh too loudly at what sounds like a disco abomination, please remember this was the mid-1970s.)  My imagination ran wild whenever I had the shirt on; it wasn't exactly age appropriate, and I was thrilled by the idea of wearing something that a 'college girl' had cast aside!  Plus, the shirt was completely different from everything else in my wardrobe, which at that time included 'matched sets' of jeans and blouses that had to be altered every other week, thanks to my growth spurts.  If I could have, I probably would have worn my ruffled shirt every day, I loved it so much.  But washday came on the weekend, so I got into the habit of donning it every Monday.

All I was thinking about was how that blouse made me feel.  It never occurred to me that anyone else might have noticed my habit of starting the week out with fancy ruffles.  But one morning, just as the homeroom bell was ringing, the boy who was our version of 'big man on campus'---the football player who all the girls made goo-goo eyes at and all the boys tried to be as cool as---stopped in front of my desk.  He looked down, pointed, and yelled to the entire class, "Hey, that must be your MONDAY SHIRT!  You only wear it on MONDAY!"  Guffawing loudly, he sat down, and his taunt was picked up by all his flunkies.  'Monday shirt, Monday shirt, Tracy has a Monday shirt.'

Ugh.  Trust me, if time travel is ever invented, I'm signing up no matter how much it costs.  It'd be worth it just to throw a few punches.  I have a good memory.  And a list.

I'd done nothing wrong; my blouse simply had the misfortune to be ostentatious enough for a bully to use it as a delivery device.  But I learned that if the dullest observer in the classroom had latched onto my monotony, maybe I needed to recognize it in myself.  I was blessed with a mother who made sure I had plenty of clothes; I knew how lucky I was in this regard.  I needed to appreciate that more.

I also learned that predicability is one of the banes of fashion.  It's very easy to get into a rut with certain pieces, to wear them so often they become more than just Monday or Tuesday or Friday blouses.  Even if one's wardrobe is limited by necessity, making small chances to an outfit---pairing it with a scarf on this day, a necklace on another, or dressing it 'up' or 'down'---makes the clothing more interesting and the wearer far less predictable.

And even the most hardworking outfit needs the occasional Monday off....

Men and Hats

Why don’t men wear hats anymore?  Why is it so rare to see a gentleman under the age of seventy sporting a Panama or a bowler or a homburg these days?  The answer to these inquiries is simple---John F. Kennedy, young and stylish and oh-so-handsome, destroyed the men’s hat industry when he arrived bareheaded at his inauguration.  Everybody knows that!

But wait a second---let a historian intervene with an inconvenient fact that destroys a delightful myth. (This is what we live for, as you might imagine.)  JFK was NOT hatless at his inauguration.  While he did not wear a hat to give his speech (who would?) he certainly wore the traditional high silk hat and the rest of his very formal morning dress on that cold January day in 1961.  There is plenty of photographic evidence to back this up.

So why do we blame our president for this fashion crime?  It’s true that JFK did not favor hats, and that he was almost always photographed without one.  He flatly refused to have his picture taken in the ridiculous chapeaus that were often given to him as souvenirs of presidential visits.  On the morning of his assassination, he was presented with a traditional Texas ten-gallon hat, but deftly deflected the demand that he don it by offering reporters the chance to snap him in it at the White House the following week.  Tragically, no one would ever get the chance to request that he make good on his playful promise.

So why did men stop wearing hats?  I don’t think there’s any one answer to this question, but everyone has a theory.  World War II may have had an impact, as returning GIs longed for non-regulation attire.  Many of them undoubtedly felt that hats reminded them of uniform caps and helmets.  Kennedy’s brief tenure as president certainly sent a fashion statement to men of his generation, especially those blessed, like the president, with great hair.  And within a few weeks of Kennedy’s death, the Beatles took America by storm.  No hats for these famous mop-heads!  The 1960s was an age of youth and rebellion; hats were a casualty, a remnant of conformity and stodginess.  Formal headwear for men just never came back into style.

And I think that’s a crying shame.  Frankly, my dear, I want men to wear hats again!  Perhaps I am in a minority, but I do not think I am alone.  Surely fifty years is enough of a gap for hats to rotate around on the fashion wheel.  And just to be clear, in my mind a ‘cap’ is not a ‘hat.’  Living in the South, I see a plethora of caps, mainly with school or sports logos above the brim and plenty that (shudder) are covered in camouflage print.  Even worse, I see lots of caps worn backwards.  Gentlemen, permission to speak freely?---You look like the village idiot when you wear your cap that way.  No exceptions here, fellows: I don't care if you are old, young, a rapper, a trucker, a frat boy, a hunter, a professional athlete, or even a very prominent politician, it's BAD!  Sorry to tell you this, but there is nothing that screams ‘I Am STUPID’ louder than a reversed cap.  It was cute when you were five years old, but it's not cute now.  If you have to be a cap wearer, at least be a man and wear the ugly thing correctly.

 

On the contrary, I have never seen a man who looked bad in a true hat.  Every fellow I’ve ever noticed in one seems taller, stronger, smarter, and more confident.  And I wouldn’t insist that every man wear a dull ‘business’ hat when there are so many wonderful styles and shapes to choose from. I love hats designed for hiking and desert explorations; they exude a world traveler vibe.  What man wouldn't want to be mistaken for Indiana Jones?   Prefer to rock a classic look?  A great fedora can turn Joe Average into a modern member of the Rat Pack.  Need some ideas on how to wear a hat?  These famous gentlemen can provide lessons.

I think my husband (who has a vast collection of caps, much to my dismay) looks especially handsome in the distressed leather drover hat that he bought on a trip to Colorado.  And some of my fellow Wofford historians have been spotted in stylish hats that make them look even taller than they already are (and trust me, we have the tallest department on campus!).  There’s just no excuse for any man to lack at least one distinctive hat in his wardrobe.  For the man who wants to stand out in the crowd, nothing will set him apart faster.

But that may well be the problem.  Women are mocked all the time for conforming to the current look.  Excuse me, but I think it is the guys who tend to be the sheep, just following the herd, never wanting to be unique or original.  To be truly stylish and debonair, in the way that will make ladies' hearts beat faster, requires a level of confidence and individuality that perhaps most men, for all their boasting, generally lack.

Fashion in the Family

Here’s a fun activity for budding fashionistas---go through old family pictures and look at them in new ways.  Don’t just identify the people (or laugh at silly haircuts) but really look at what they’re wearing.  You might be surprised to find how well dressed your folks have been through time.  Maybe nobody in your circle of kin has ever graced the cover of Vogue, but I have a suspicion you have a great-aunt who was voted ‘most stylish’ in high school or a grandfather who sported a zoot suit during his courting days.  Taking a slow look back at pictures is a good experience, not only for bringing back happy memories, but for seeing our relatives and our ancestors in a new light.

While nobody in the Zipperer bloodline (that’s my maternal family) would ever claim to be a fashion plate, when I look back at them I see little touches that raise a smile and make me think that my folks had more originality than I ever gave them credit for.

Here’s my great-grandparents.  I’m guessing these pictures were made between 1910 and 1915, based on their clothing.  They were young newlyweds at the time---I would love to have a wedding picture of them, but since they got hitched in a buggy at the judge’s house (the first drive-through wedding?) I have to make do with these, which seem to have been taken in the same studio.  ‘Daddy Hubert’ (as we called him) was certainly dapper, with his bow tie, sharp jacket, and slicked down hair.  It was only while looking over these shots today that I realized his trousers have a striped pattern.  Pretty fashion forward for little Pinetta, Forida!  His wife, who was ‘Mamma Donie’ to us, is wearing the classic long white cotton dress of the turn of the century, but with a tapestry sash and with lacy details at the neck.  I only remember her with short, cropped hair, but I think it must have still been long at this time, and swept back.  Mama Donie didn’t have low self-esteem; she inscribed the picture as ‘lovely me!’  And that really should be the first rule of fashion; confidence is the best accessory of all.

The next generation came of age in the 1930s.  My grandmother, Marjorie Hadden Zipperer, was the baby of her family and a tomboy who grew up wearing overalls and running around barefoot.  But in this shot, which was probably made in the year of her wedding (1938), she's very sweet and lady-like.  She also has an unusual dress, with ribbon laces off-set on the bodice.  I’ve never seen anything quite like it in other family pictures.  The picture of my grandfather, Hillbern Zipperer, was made during World War II.  He looks like Indiana Jones to me is this snapshot!  I love the leather jacket and the hat tipped at a jaunty angle.  My grandfather was a farmer and wore mainly caps (usually with a feed store logo on them), but some of my favorite memories of him are of being able to pick him out in a crowd at football games by his stylish grey Stetson (which I now own and sometimes wear).

 

And, I’m taking a risk, because she’s probably going to kill me—but I think my mother, LaNora Zipperer, completely rocked those short-shorts, straw hat, and ballerina flats back on a family vacation in the late 1950s, when she was seventeen years old.  What I wouldn't give to have that wasp-waist figure of hers!  And even better, by this time she had begun sewing, launching a career of making outfits for herself, her mother, and (eventually) for me; she made the blouse she's wearing in the picture.



Looking back over family pictures is a far more rewarding exercise in understanding the history of clothing and style than pouring over back issues of fashion magazines.  I like seeing how 'real people'---those without personal stylists and talented photo-shop editors---put their outfits together and wore them.  I just worry that someday in the future the children of my nieces and nephews may look at pictures of me and shriek--"WHAT HAPPENED!!!!??"  

The 2014 Golden Globes: Who Wowed The Crowd

I have a shameful confession to make---I’m addicted to red carpets.  Before the major awards shows, I enjoy watching the stars arrive and critiquing what they are wearing.  Ridiculous, I know---but is it any more absurd for me to indulge my love of couture which I will never wear than it is for some couch potato to be a Monday morning quarterback when he’s never tossed the pigskin in his life? And since I was required to watch the 49ers v. Panthers playoff game on Sunday for a certain gentleman who’s gone to Africa, I owed myself a little style splurge that night.

So here is my rather prejudiced take on who ‘won’ the red carpet stroll of the Golden Globes.

In the WOW category:

Cate Blanchett in Armani Prive.  There’s a reason why she’s a queen of everything (Middle Earth, England, and the red carpet).  The dress was so interesting and, when she turned around, absolutely jaw dropping in its daring plunge down her perfectly pale back.  Her hair was old school Hollywood glamour that didn’t get in the way of the dress.  She always looks so comfortable that I wonder if she wears these outfits around the house.

Sofia Vergara in Zac Posen.  I think her rule must be ‘if you’ve got it, flaunt it.’  This is how one does knockout curves in knockout style.  The bottom of this dress was so beautifully made, and the statement necklace finished it perfectly.  Black was just the right choice of color; anything else would have made it gaudy.

Kerry Washington in Balenciaga.  Quite a number of the Golden Globe ladies are on the path to motherhood!  Of them all, Kerry Washington takes the prize in a wonderfully constructed outfit that celebrates her new role in life without making her look like she simply donned something with extra stretch in the stomach. Just a class act all the way around. 

Margot Robbie in Gucci.  She won high marks from my mom for the fit of her dress, and how it was quite revealing without looking one breath away from being a wardrobe malfunction.  I loved the details and the simple hair.  It also made her look much taller than she is in real life; perhaps we non-movie-stars could tale a lesson from those lines.

Kate Beckinsale in Zuhair Murad.  At first glance, I wrote her frock off as just another mermaid gown.  I didn’t really see how stunning her dress was until she was onstage as a presenter. Then I couldn’t take my eyes off of this outfit, which caught the lights and sparkled like a million stars.  It’s the perfect incarnation of glamour.

Zooey Deschanel in Oscar De La Renta.  I have a suspicion I’ll be in the minority in liking her outfit, but I felt like she was one of the few women who wore this shade of cream and got away with it.  And the shoes---the shoes!!!  I want them so badly!  Normally I loathe dresses with high fronts and low backs, but to draw attention to such wonderful footwear this style is totally justified.

Lupita Nyong’o in Ralph Lauren.  This is my favorite dress of the evening---a beautiful color, a perfect fit, drama yet simplicity.  (And it doesn’t hurt that she’s wearing my favorite designer) Yes, there are more statuesque women in the lineup, and more famous, but they could all take notes from her.  She will be the one that everyone remembers, because looked like what she aims to become---a movie star.

In Praise of Boots

I’ll make this as plain as I can---I love boots!

High boots, short boots, leather boots, boots with buckles and studs and fringes and fur; it’s rare for me to encounter a boot that I don’t like.   From the moment they start appearing on the shelves, grandly looming over the sandals and sneakers, I’m infatuated.  I have to stop, look, and touch.  Any shopping trip in the fall and winter requires a few moments to worship at the footwear shrine.  And I will confess that there were a few times when I was almost late for my Western Civ class because I was so caught up on the internet wonderland that is Zappos, drooling over brands that have never made it to the Spartanburg stores.

I suspect my great love of boots comes, in part, from being denied them as a child.  Don’t we all, to some degree, want what we can’t have?  Growing up in Florida, boots were never deemed practical to purchase, as it was rarely cold enough to be comfortable while wearing them.  I used to look at pictures and long for them, but like heavy parkas, wool sweaters, and leather jackets, they were not a part of my youthful wardrobe. 

Moving to Spartanburg finally gave me the excuse to start adding boots to my footwear collection. When I saw my first snowfall, I was happy to have a pair worthy of hiking through the winter woods, even if the only place I was actually hiking to was my mailbox.  In the early 1990s I had two favorite pairs, both with wedge heels, which I finally had to retire when they got so worn out and slippery that I was falling down in them more than I was standing up in them!  I’ve worn boots with jeans tucked inside and I have several short skirts that I would never have requested my mother to create for me if I hadn’t owned the little ankle boots first.  I even have a completely ridiculous pair of ‘hippie boots’ with long leather fringes!

I’ve often heard that women like driving SUVs and big trucks because these vehicles make them feel ‘in charge’ of the road.  Maybe boots serve the same function.  They make the wearer feel taller, stronger, and more capable.  As the actor Hugh Laurie once said, a woman in boots knows her own mind.  There are many styles of boots that women can run in---but don’t try that in stiletto heels!  Boots can mean business; can be tough and gritty, looking like they are poised to handle big motorcycles or spirited horses.  Boots can be sporty, playful or even seductive.  In boots, the imagination stomps wild!

I suppose there are good fashion rules to wearing boots, but for the most part these are rules I don’t think about very much.  I just enjoy seeing boots on everybody.  Little kids in their first pair make me grin; seeing grandmas rock them gives me happy giggles.  And working at Wofford provides me with ample opportunity to admire the latest styles, as most of our young ladies will break them out on the first brisk morning of fall.  About the only way that I see boots worn that I really dislike---and this is purely personal, because I know many fashion mavens and hip college girls approve of it---is wearing cowboy boots with dainty dresses.  I don’t think ‘home on the range’ matches with ‘I’m a dainty flower.'  Either herd the steers or have tea with the garden fairies, but don’t try to do both at the same time.

My problem with wearing boots is that I have no calves—my lower legs bear an uncomfortable resemblance to toothpicks.  Any tall boot tends to stand off me, looking oversized even when it’s a perfect fit.  And boots can be especially confounding when it comes to sizing.  Finding a comfortable pair can require an extra dose of patience (or many returns to the store).

I suppose it’s fair to add that boots can get a fashionista in trouble.  At some point, a female family member will inevitably disapprove of one's choice in footwear with a haughty sniff; this, however, makes the wearing of the boots even more savory.  But the other day my physical therapist looked down at my feet and asked, “What are those, combat boots?  That’s exactly what my thirteen year old daughter asked for at Christmas.”

For the record, they’re NOT combat boots.  But boots do keep us young and sassy, and there’s no down side to that, as far as I’m concerned.

My New Year's Resolution Is In The Bag

Happy New Year everybody!  Make any resolutions you’ve broken already?  I’m never very good with the usual pledges (eat better, get more exercise, wake up earlier, etc.) but this year I did make myself one ‘fashion resolution.’  Whether I can maintain it should be interesting.

I’ve promised my long-suffering husband and my perpetually-worried mother that I will stop being a pack mule.  I’ve always loved large handbags.  (Like this Big Buddha on the left.  It took ALL my self control not to splurge on it when I saw it in a store last year.)  The problem is that I tend to fill large bags up to the point that they are painful to carry.  After I finish loading them, they’re much more like saddlebags than ‘purses.’  It doesn’t matter how many times I empty the bag, it still seems to attract more stuff.  I just spent half an hour on the floor cleaning out my current pocketbook, trying to put away things I don’t need every day, and while I succeeded in changing the big bag out for a much smaller one, even that one seems over-weighted to me.  Though I’m pretty sure that my shoulder issues are caused by bone spurs and scar tissue (not by bags) I would still like to reduce the weight and strain on my shoulders, especially in light of knowing that I’m going to have to have surgery in a few weeks.  I sure don’t want to make things worse.

 

I always find choosing a new bag to be a very challenging project.  Pocketbooks are so varied, so beautiful, and can make even louder ‘statements’ than clothes.  Like shoes, they need to stay in good shape.  Nothing spoils a lovely outfit faster than a mismatched or battered bag.  I know I’m guilty of not changing mine out as often as I should, and have found myself with a knockabout bag paired with dress clothes. Oops.  While I don’t think being as ‘matchy-matchy’ as women were in the 1950s is a requirement for today's rushed and harried working woman, I do think when the bag on a lady's arm, shoulder, or in her hand shows thought and flair, she will get attention for a chic overall look.  

To make matters even more difficult, I’m always on the prowl for my dream bag, which is a perfect shade of red that I can see in my mind, but can’t describe in words.  I had that hue once---and oh, how I loved that bag---but I carried it until the bottom split open and I have never found the same shade since.  (My other favorite pocketbook had a mermaid on it—I dragged it around until the mermaid grew legs and married her prince.)

So---any suggestions for a small handbags (not clutches), preferably affordable ones?!  For as much as I drool over Kate Spade, Coach and other designer bags, I know I won’t be carrying one anytime soon.