Not going to see red
I have more fashion lives than a cat. Whether it's the influence of fellow bloggers or true Reflection on Self, I find I am tossing (or at least pausing to decide on) more quirky residents of my wardrobe. This time the semi annual purge is casting a wider net. Not only am I ditching the worn out and never worn (ie bad buys), I am remembering what I felt the best in this past season and aiming to repeat that feeling the next.
That means no ruffles, frou-frou, frills, fullness or funkadelic. I've suddenly discovered that less is more, but only if that less is really, really good stuff. What it meant last year was purchasing a long black cashmere cardigan, a beautiful black bag, some interesting pieces of statement jewelry (decidedly not from Claire's Accessories) and rich fabrics in offbeat colors. I still felt creative, not cookie cutter. I want to steer far far away from eccentric, artsy old lady. I used to fear that Red Hat Society look of pull-on 100% polyester. Now that I know it will never happen, I cringe at looking— on the other hand— like a style spectacle.
You've seen that woman. She thumbs her nose at what is thoughtfully tasteful because she knows she can get away with it. She travels in packs and may end up in Bill Cunnigham's photo essays in the New York Times. Her look is admirable but not admired.
One of these women is actually a man
So now that I've paired down and chyrsalised, what do I do with all those empty hangers?