Time is Not On My Side

Multiple ideas for blogs, but the demands of making a living have kept me from writing; I am stealing a few moments now.

Have you seen all the purple and violet in the stores? I love it! Being a redhead, I can pull it off really well, but purple is a good color for lots of people, and the right shade makes a good "neutral" - you can put all kinds of colors with it.

One small observation. Out to dinner last night. Yes, it was a bit chilly, but this is Virginia, not Montreal. I wore the same embroidered silk mandarin-style jacket I'd worn all day in the office. It was perfectly fine for going from car to restaurant. I had to laugh at all the people who had already broken out the fur-trimmed parkas and winter coats. I mean, c'mon, people! Don't your cars have heaters? Particularly in light of all the cute jackets, sweaters, and coat-length sweaters available this season. Or just layer, for heavens sake. "But it's co-wuld out there!" No, it's not, fool. A mild nip in the air is all it was, no matter what the TV weatherman said.

Hrrrrrrumph!

Over dinner last night I told my husband, Eddie, about my new blog. "It's called 'Clothing is Candy' I told him happily. He thought about that between bites of his lamb kofte. Then his face lit up.

"Is it about edible panties?" he asked hopefully.

Men.

Autumn's Colors

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I am wearing fall colors today. A screen-printed T-shirt with three-quarter length sleeves, printed in a mad pattern composed of paisley and floral. The colors rise up the body of the shirt, from a deep, night-time purple, through rust and glowing orange, to a muted green the color of not-yet-changed foliage.

To complete the autumnal theme, I am wearing my favorite, very well worn, black velveteen jeans.

The shirt looked out of the closet this morning and said, “Wear me!” Since we had gotten up late and I was in a hurry, I was only too willing to do something easy.

The shirt fits nicely – it skims the body, defining my general shape without clinging to any specific body parts. The overall effect is trim. Beads and sequins surround the neckline (except for a few pecked off by my parrot), and the embellishment is completed by some faux gold coins.

But what makes my heart swell over this otherwise simplest of outfits? Why, the colors, of course. The shirt captures every shade of autumn, my favorite time of year. The colors speak of leaves changing, nights growing longer, candles and warm fires. They whisper to me of Halloween, of ancient Samhain, of the death of the old year and the dark beginnings of the new.

Yes, that’s a lot to get out of a shirt. But the meanings and lore of color is embedded deep in our psyche, and we react with emotions we barely understand. Yes, these colors suit my hair and complexion. But more than that, they fill my heart.

Oh, yeah, and I’m wearing pewter loafers.

Or: Musings of a Fat (Phat) Fashionista

Keeping in Proportion

I love clothes. Loved them all my life. My mother’s clothes. Anybody’s clothes. Hell, even doll clothes. I come from a long line of clothing-loving women, and my daughter continues the line. Clothes can express the full range of human emotions, from joy to despair. And sometimes they can be the cause of those emotions.

Now, I am not built like a model. Quite the opposite. Over the years (nearly 60 of them, so far), I have acquired quite a bit of baggage. Quite a bit. Hmmmm. Hell, I’m fat. There, got that over with.

Not only am I fat, I am short and hourglass-shaped. With a bust. But that said, I still love clothes, and I love my own clothes best.

Of course, the problem is to dress this unfashionable, aging body in such a way that it appears to best advantage, and suits my age and dignity - without dressing like a proverbial “old lady”. (More on old-lady dressing in another blog – it ain’t what you think it is.)

There are several problems operating here. The human body is not standardized. Even those who do not have a weight problem differ greatly from one another in their proportions. These differences become exaggerated as one gains weight. Some, like myself, are relatively fortunate in that their weight is evenly distributed, so that they remain more or less proportional. Others put it all on in the upper body, or solely in the stomach or the butt – etc, etc.

However, fashions are designed for one particular set of proportions. The emphasis shifts over time, but during any particular historical period only certain figure types are considered fashionable and acceptable. The rest of us have to scramble to fit in as best we can. Many times I wished I had lived in the 1870’s. Short waisted, full-busted, hourglass, with a mass of drapery behind – just made for me. Instead what happens? I get plunked down in an era dominated first by Twiggy, and from then on by models whose legs are longer than my entire body. Life is not fair, but I do the best I can.

The other problem – and nobody ever talks about this one – is that the heavier one gets, the probability increases of looking silly. Laughable, ludicrous, undignified – silly. Oh, dear. There is also an age factor here. For generations people have laughed at the woman of a certain age who is trying to dress like her daughters. Standards have muddled nowadays, and in fact sometimes my clothes are very much like my almost thirty year old daughter’s, but there are lines that should not be crossed.

Let me explain. My ex-husband had a useful term for certain types of outfits – “clown suits”. Clown suits, according to him, are outfits that a man might find interesting-looking on another woman, but wouldn’t want to see his wife wearing them. I think we all know a true clown suit when we see one. However, on the heavy person, a garment that is simply “cutting edge” can become absurd.

This is not to say that I do not think a heavy woman should not try to express herself with her clothing. On the contrary! Push the envelope! Just, for heaven’s sake, look in the mirror first. Really look. Turn around and look at the back side as well. Set aside the fact that at that moment you LOVE that garment, and your whole heart and being cry out to own it. Try to put yourself in the mindset of someone who is watching you walk down the street in that outfit. Look at the proportions. Do you look balanced? Do you look like you have legs, or are you a mushroom? Does it make your butt look enormous? Does it look like it should come with batteries? Remember – every fault that an outfit has will be exaggerated in a larger size.

Clothes are culture. Clothes are how people see themselves, and how they want others to see them. Clothes are self expression, whether intentional or not. Clothes are candy.