Charles James and I

I don't usually subject you to this, but guess what I just bought at the fanciest/schmanziest store in town? And look how much I paid for it! Yes, $29. Do I need a leopard brocade bolero? No. Is it fabulous and was it a steal?

Yes... but the most interesting part...

My friend and I were on our way to the Menil Museum when we stopped in at Tootsie's. Despite its cutesie name Tootsie's is the place to shop in Houston. We visit this "museum with price tags" to ogle the Valentinos and finger The Rows. It's not possible to envy these clothes as they are way beyond reach even in dreams. The salespeople are friendly enough and aware that we are admiring but not buying.

I had wandered into a neglected corner of Special Occasion when I spotted this spotted beauty on a small rack of super markdowns. Truly I have never met a leopard I didn't love, but the unbelievable price tag had me doing a double take and a mental cartwheel. I sheepishly bought it and received a hanger and carry-bag possibly worth more than the bolero, and off we went to the Menil.

Welcome to the Menil

If you ever come to Houston you must visit the Menil. It's a stunning building and houses Domenique and John de Menil's collection of surrealist, African, Eskimo and Egyptian art. The Menils were also early benefactors of the artists making waves post WWII and commissioned this building to show their collections to the public— always for free. It's a magical place.

Domenique in a James and on a James

It should be no surprise that Domenique de Menil also championed the brilliant designer— nay couturier— Charles James. Not only did he make ball gowns and day wear for Domenique, he did the interiors of the de Menil's Philip Johnson-designed house in Houston (reportedly to Mr. Johnson's chagrin). This show is in tandem with a much larger presentation at The Metropolitan Museum of Art inaugurating the Met's Anna Wintour Costume Center. So Mr. James is very much of the moment.

James at the Met

His genius was in construction. First a sculptor, then a milliner, his sketches look like something out of DaVinci's notebooks. The gowns were amazing creations, but the daywear too speaks of sculpture and movement.

1937 puffer jacket

Brilliant, he could also be exasperating. He would not do work for you if he didn't like you. He might take a year to finish a dress then decide it wasn't right. Christian Dior is said to have credited Charles James as the inspiration for his own 1947 New Look. James was a narcissist without a head for business— a recipe for disaster that led to his being almost penniless at the time of his death at the Chelsea Hotel in 1978.

Charles James in his heyday

The Menil show does not have the scope of the Met's of course. There are far less garments (and some are a tiny bit moth-eaten). His interior design is represented only by a few pieces of furniture. Domenique comes across as a lovely woman, who must have been to put up with him. Needless to say, if you are in Houston or New York City this summer, you have something to see.

Back to my bolero. Doesn't this Charles James evening jacket from the 1930s remind you of something?

Never Say Never Yet Again

Something else to add to my file of "Never Say Never": (gee that file is getting thick...)

TEVA SANDALS

Yikes! The footwear of my enemy is now my footwear. For years I considered Tevas and their web-strapped, foam-soled cousins to be the arch enemy of stylish shoes. As worn first by hippies and then aging hippies. As purchased at Whole Earth Provisions or Outdoor World. Unless to buy mosquito netting I'm not going there.

Trippin' with Tevas...

Nowadays the rubber flip flop is my most comfortable shoe. The years (and three surgeries on the right foot) have taken their toll. Even if it was merely walking many happy miles on them, feet do tell you how old you are. Rubber flip flops, however, are not the safest things to navigate the planet. And, despite being gussied up with bells and whistles, do not a fashion statement make off the beach.

What to do? What to do? I've reported on the emergence of the "chineaker", the chic sneaker. I also told you my ears are deaf to the siren's call. But how to take the news that Tevas are Summer 2014's footwear of choice?

By trying on a pair, of course.

The Teva look as interpreted by Prada;
compression sleeves will stay home

Hello, new love of my life. Can I dare— dare I?— compromise my principles and adopt you? You betcha. Tevas, you are mine.

Come rain, come shine, come streets in Pompeii or sidewalks in New York City, this summer the word is "march"!

On How to be Lovely

Some of you who read this are under 40— even under 30. I love that! It means I have a platform (heel) to stand on and let you know that someday:

> You may actually know what your style is (or isn't).

> You will look back at your "figure problems" and wish you still had them as those were small potatoes.

> You may wish you hadn't gotten rid of this-or-that, but you will also realize you can't keep everything.

> You may laugh at or envy your younger self, but you will know you are still indeed the same person.

I recently checked out "Betty Cornell's Teen-age Popularity Guide". Teenager Maya Van Wagenen found a copy and took the advice to heart. She wrote "Popular: Vintage Wisdom for a Modern Geek" about what happened after she put Betty's lessons into practice (happy ending). Now the original has been reprinted with an introduction by Maya. Betty herself is still around, and they met (photo included).

I never bought any teenage beauty books. By the time I was one, I just wanted it to be over. I hoped to be beautiful, of course, but I also wished to be a grown up. When you are a teen you assume beauty will lead to popularity. Both goals appeared unattainable. So if it took a while to become beautiful, I would then be grown up. And grown ups never seemed to worry about being popular. You are chuckling at my innocence, right?

My beauty bible was a Dell paperback called "The Handbook of Beauty" (35 cents) by Constance Hart, no doubt the Betty Crocker of authors. I still have it— pages yellowed and crackling with age, spine tender and coming unglued. Any resemblance to my current state purely intended.

I gave my old textbook another look and realized the emphasis is on eating healthy, drinking lots of water, getting enough sleep, exercise, posture and good grooming. What— no lotions and magic potions! No plastic surgery, botox fillers or Retinol! How could that advice for 318 pages lead to being beautiful? At least all the reading would take your mind off looking for secret formulas.

You might make better use of your time by renting "Funny Face" and fast forwarding to the duet near the end with Audrey Hepburn and Kay Thompson. Better yet, watch the whole thing.

Herewith, the (somewhat abbreviated) lyrics to "How to be Lovely":

On how to be lovely
You got to be happy.
When you can feel
light and gay
Then you'll be lovely
as a holiday.

On how to be charming
You got to be merry
If only to weave a spell
And you'll be lovely
As a carousel too.

I (I know you can) show how.
It's (it's all in the) know-how.
And (and once you know) oh how
The world looks good to you
As it should to you.

On how to be lovely
You got to be jolly
When you can be fancy-free
And flash a smile that
Folks come flocking to see.

You'll be as lovely 
As can be.

Can't (can't do it with) make-up 
You (you've just got to) wake up 
And (and startin' to) take up 
A life delirious 
Nothing serious.

Make sorrow incidental 
(Let joy be monumental) 
And you'll be lovely 
You'll be as lovely 
As can be!

Dressed and Ready to Go

"I went on a trip and packed in my suitcase..."

Remember the memory game where you started with an "A" word (usually aardvark because it sounded funny) and packed everything down to "Z" while repeating the list? No one ever got to zebra, but it took up time in the car.

Here's a real question for you:

What do you put on in order to feel dressed?

I can imagine your answers, from "a smile" to "perfume" to "pearl studs", but I really want to know. Maybe your answers will be surprising. I know I surprised myself, because the thing I must put on in order to feel dressed is this:

It's that gold bangle which is not pure gold and sports a fairly visible dent in the side.

The bracelet has an unknown provenance. It was not my grandmother's, worn as a young woman when she escaped to America from the pogroms in Austria-Hungary. It was not my mother's, bought with hard-earned money from her first job or given to her by an early beau. I have no idea who owned it originally (or made that dent).

The bracelet was a gift from a boss, a man not known for being demonstrative. In fact, I didn't think he liked me much. It was the practice in this particular office to bring back little trinkets from one's travels. My gift was usually a communal box of salt water taffy from the Jersey Shore, but as a higher-up his vacations were more exotic. So let's say this came back with him from somewhere in Europe.

It's marked "14k gold filled" (hhhmmm... in English... must have been England) and is very lightweight. The bracelet slips on (no clasp) and was probably meant for a child. I have small wrists; other bangles slide right off. I used to think it was Victorian (because I wanted it to be), but probably it dates from the early 1920s.

So it's gold(ish), fits my wrist and was a surprisingly personal gift from a man I didn't think liked me. Would it surprise you to know that I thought more highly of that man ever since?

Although I wear a watch on the same wrist, I literally feel undressed without that bracelet. It goes with me everywhere. I think of the backstory and send a little mental "hello" his way (he mellowed over the years).

And then I'm ready for the day.

What do you put on in order to feel dressed?

Still the Best

Private screenings are a guilty pleasure. Every once in a while I'll sit myself down, invite no one (except the cat who doesn't take no for an answer) and watch a pivotal movie, one that I either always wanted to see or one that meant so much (for one reason or another).

"The Best of Everything" is of the latter. I saw it multiple times (pre VCR, pre Turner Classics) at its release in 1959, read the original novel by Rona Jaffe and tucked it away for my future move to New York. That happened in 1964. A lot else was happening too. Anyone familiar with "Mad Men" can tell you 1964 was light years from 1959.

Don Draper reading Rona Jaffe

I'm sure there still were many, many secretaries working until Mr. Right whisked them off to suburbia. Fortunately I wasn't one of them. My mother had told me never learn to type; a caring professor gave me a ridiculously hefty dose of self confidence.

Nevertheless "The Best of Everything" recalls New York City of that time accurately and deliciously in Technicolor and Cinemascope. Exteriors were filmed on location. Interiors were not the Hollywood version of Manhattan. The girls' apartment is believable (if a wee bit roomy). What I really loved were the clothes. By the time I got there, no one (man or woman) wore a hat, but we gals still wore gloves (stockings and girdles too). "Street fashion" had not been invented. If you were a bohemian, you dressed like one. But you didn't work in an office.

Hats off... soon

You spent the most you could to fit in. "Fast fashion" hadn't been invented either. Some stores, such as Ohrbach's and Stern's, were known for better prices. Beloved Bloomingdale's had a bargain basement, but we all lived with less clothes because we had no choice. I don't ever recall anyone having "brand envy" or the burning desire to get the latest whatever. That all came in time.

The romances in "The Best of Everything" are not so outlandish either. Joan Crawford's married lover is never seen onscreen. Their plot develops in telephone conversations. She does a bang-up job. Diane Baker is little-miss-innocent. Her story is a bit melodramatic, but it plays to the all-too-real fear of "what if I get pregnant?".

Suzy... sleuthing

Suzy Parker is the gorgeous creature/spurned girlfriend, but she's very believable. Any woman who ever wanted to stalk an ex-boyfriend will live through her shenanigans. Totally underated as an actress, she retired from the screen in 1964 after a second serious auto accident. The star of the drama is Hope Lange, serviceable if a little stiff in the part. She actually has the most wardrobe revelation as she goes from college grad (with hat) to department head (with French twist). No, I'm not giving anything away. You knew that promotion was coming. What's up in the air is whether she finally gets together with the studly Stephen Boyd to save his character from a life of lonely martinis. Let's hope so, because Stephen Boyd, sadly, died in 1977 at age 46.

You know he's the one...

So "The Best of Everything" really has it all— romance, career, fashion and New York City. The best of everything.

What Do You Wear When You Are Going Nowhere?

More time for painterly pursuits!

So I just retired. That's pretty funny as I am almost 72 and people think I retired when I left New York in 2003. I've worked since I was sixteen and won't deny that I always felt defined by my work, so retiring was not an easy decision. Let's just say it was a combination of the little voice in my head and a Chinese fortune cookie.

I admit to using my last job as an excuse to feed my fashion addiction. I've never had so many wonderful clothes in my life. My job at the Lovely Boutique offered insanely generous discounts that were the equivalent of letting a child loose in a candy store.

I now stand before closets bursting with clothes, but what do I wear now that there is no audience? Am I like the tree in the forest that falls without making a sound if no one hears it? I remember a (probably not true) story about the designer Pauline Trigere. She gardened in her cast-off evening wear so as not to waste a good gown. I also remember my grandmother Celia, who dressed to the nines for her daily trip to the market.

More time for housework?

More time for the gym?

What's in store for me, now that I'm not going to a store every day? Houston is fortunate to have a well-established branch of Dress for Success, the worldwide organization that provides a professional wardrobe to a woman in need entering the workforce. I'd like to volunteer. The very best part of my job has always been helping to outfit women without perfect bodies or unlimited checkbooks. It's never about the most expensive item; it's about the right one. And there is nothing more gratifying than seeing the confidence in a woman when she looks and feels good about herself. This is something we all know!

More time for picnics!

There are a million other things to do, of course— from the silly to the sublime. It may take some time to sort them out (the perfect mix of frivolous and serious being the goal). As for now, time is spelled "me" and "it". Sounds good.

More time for slumber parties!

Stop the presses! Retired has just become "retreaded". It's been decided I will still work at the Lovely Boutique two days a week. That still gifts me with time— and a reason to wear... there.

I See You Hanging There

Genius jean jacket
... but not for me

There are five things always hanging out in my closet that I'll never wear... yet they'll always be there. Why? Because if they're not, I will buy them again. And history will repeat itself.

THE FOOLISH FIVE:

1) Black pencil skirt
Every woman needs one, right? No— not if a pencil skirt is the worst choice for a lower half that looks more like a kneaded eraser. No— not if you don't have a life in an office where said skirt, blouse and jacket would be de rigueur.

2) Jean jacket
Ah the jean jacket— staple of any modern woman's wardrobe, right? Every time I put mine on I feel like Randy in "A Christmas Story", encased in outerwear and unable to move. Perhaps it's not broken in and/or soft enough, but I've had many jean jackets over the years and they all act the same. So this latest one is going to hang there as A Reminder.

3) Black pumps
Medium heel, perfectly plain, never worn. Never mind that I can't take two steps without saying "no way". There isn't a reason to own plain, uncomfortable shoes, yet they will remain. So I don't buy them again. My shoes are fun and comfortable. Okay, they start out fun and maybe turn out uncomfortable. These black pumps are boring, but I think I should own a pair.

Charming chambray...
but not for me

4) Chambray shirt
I've bought at least four of them in the last year thinking I will find Mr. Right. I don't like blue, so why would I think I want a chambray shirt? Because I have the perfect J Crew-ish chunky jeweled necklaces to wear with one? Because they're "in"? Because because... Well, I'm keeping one hanging in the closet because...

5) Trench coat
Once upon a time I had a trench coat... It was back in my art school days. I wore it everywhere for years. Never cleaned it. The older it got the better it looked. Ah, if that trench coat could only talk. One day I must have looked at it with the cold eye of dawn and out it went. Ever since I have been trying to replicate said trench coat and no doubt every adventure it shared. Alas. Too new. Too stiff. See "jean jacket". I once even contemplated buying the gen-u-ine article by Burberry. Thank goodness that never happened or it would be hanging in my closet now like the one from Banana Republic that I did buy.

How come she always looked
so good in one?

There is another list to compile: I Don't See You Hanging There. On this list would be all the things I foolishly turned out of my closet thinking I would never wear them again. That list would be very long indeed.

I Adora the Fedora

Finally a fedora has entered my life.

I am very late to the fedora party. It has taken me this long to find one I like that also fits. If the whole point of (finally) wearing a hat in the sun is protection, a cute little short-brimmed fedora would not cut it. What I needed was a fedora with a nice-sized brim that would stay on my head and somehow keep me from looking foolish.

The party started about 2007

I have at least a dozen other straw hats. Most don't do a thing for me. My favorite to date has been a straw cowboy hat from Target. Does not go everywhere.

Of course there are felt fedoras and straw boaters (see above) but the hat du jour would be a straw fedora with a prominent band. And if you don't think they can be worn in a variety of jaunty angles, see above again.

The fedora itself has an interesting history. Wikipedia tells all:

The word fedora comes from the title of an 1882 play by dramatist Victorien Sardou, "Fedora", written for Sarah Bernhardt... Bernhardt played Princess Fedora, the heroine of the play. During the play, Bernhardt, a notorious cross dresser, wore a center-creased, soft brimmed hat. It was popular for its stylishness and its ability to protect the wearer's head from wind and weather. 

Sarah in Le Smoking

The straw fedora arose from the popularity of Panama straw hats that were created in many shapes, from boater to trilby. From the 1920s until the hatless 1960s men changed their hats seasonally. The proverbial mad dogs and Englishmen in the noonday sun? At least the Englishman wore a hat. Suddenly, in the early part of this century, the straw fedora got hip. There's no real scholarly answer, but this quote from an online forum seems to nail it:

It could have to do with the fact that hats are sort of anachronistic to today's young people. The older generations sort of grew up with them (to some degree), and so over time they acquired an air of novelty. It also helps that the era in which fedoras were popular has been romanticized to hell.

Mad Men and Englishmen...

So this time I'm hardly a trend-setter, but for all the right reasons will be a mad hatter this summer.

Rachel Zoe:
Celebrity mom and good mother

Why Are You Reading This?

For all I know, you could be a bot— what I imagine as a computer generated gnat on a mission. I recently heard that advertisers on the web are concerned their ads may be seen by bots and not humans. The bots work for someone who sets ad rates, and the whole thing is a new kind of internet fraud. Well I might have got that a little wrong, but it sounds scary.

What started me thinking, however, is What is a blog and why are you reading? First of all— thank you. Without you I'm nothing. Without you, the very thought of you, I'm just a diary.

I've personally always loved diaries— from the very real "Diary of Anne Frank", a rite of passage, to the delightful novel "I Capture the Castle", the diary is an intimate form of communication. We learn so much about the writer— we may see it before they ever do— and in turn can't help but look within ourselves.

Anne Frank and her real diary

But who am I? Why should you read my blog? I'm nobody. I may have the literary equivalent of a big mouth, but from what authority do I speak? None at all.

My first trip to Europe at age 23 was solo. I read a lot. After finishing "The Leopard" somewhere around Rapallo, I was out of books and desperate. The only bookshop in town had but a few secondhand books in English, no doubt picked up or dropped off by tourists. The one that caught my eye was "Diary of a Nobody", an odd piece of fiction from 1892. It was so arcane and tongue-in-cheek it took a good fifty pages to realize it wasn't a real diary.

The Nobody from "Diary of a Nobody"

I've tried keeping a diary at least half a dozen times (trip diaries excluded). I think I write pretty good letters, and friends like my emails, so I'm a performer at heart. I need an audience. YOU give me the reason to write.

One the occasion of attracting 100,000 reads, I'm taking a bow (as would any good performer). I'm blowing kisses from the footlights. You've encouraged me so, yes indeed, I'll be back for an encore.

Diaries I've loved and maybe you will too:

The Diary of Anne Frank

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith

These is My Words by Nancy E. Turner

Diary of a Nobody by Weedon Grossmith and George Grossmith

The Red Leather Diary by Lily Koppel

A Fine Romance by Susan Branch

The Scrapbook of Frankie Pratt by Caroline Preston

Few Eggs No Oranges by Vera Hodgson

Gone with the Windsors by Laurie Graham

The Great Harper's Bazaar

One of the best covers...

Vogue Schmogue. It seems whenever I get inspired to share some style inspiration, it comes from Harper's Bazaar. Many people, especially those who work at Vogue, think of Bazaar as Vogue's whiny little sister. History would not be on their side. Vogue is an upstart, founded in 1892. Harper's Bazaar has been around since 1867.

...one of the first...

Editor Glenda Bailey is not a star in her own right (thinking of Vogue's Anna Winter). But Glenda is a solid voice and obviously loves being at the helm. It isn't mentioned, but she is no beauty. Either was Diana Vreeland. No matter; it makes Glenda more approachable for the rest of us. One of her great gifts is allowing editors and contributors to express themselves. I may not agree with them, but they are always interesting.

Glenda the Good

Harper's Bazaar excels in fashion coverage. They have a small, weirdly wonderful editorial well that could be called Harper's Bizarre, but for the most part they serve up real news for the fashion possessed. What they show is wearable if not exactly attainable. A "Great Find" could be a $625 sleeveless blouse.

"Fabulous at Every Age" is one of my favorite features and would be on a tattoo if I had one. Every issue devotes several pages to what's in and how to wear it in your 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s and 70+. Funny thing is there's almost nothing that can't really be worn by anyone, but it's a nice hook, and I love that "70s+" tag. No end in sight!

Fabulous and ageless

There are designer profiles, but not presented in the usual way. April's subjects are both Sonia Rykiel and Lola Rykiel in "My List"— how they spend 24 hours. Fascinating. What I like best throughout is that Bazaar isn't continuously tooting its own horn. The don't sponsor Met exhibits or CFDA fund competitions. They will link you up to online shopping sites to buy featured merchandise, but this is how fashion magazines are trying to stay alive in the publishing desert.

As you may have figured out, I read them all. I subscribe to most and look at the ones I won't let into the house (aka People Style Watch) at the gym. IF I had the will power to stack them up like jets on a runway to Paris (instead of read as I pry them out of my mailbox), Harper's Bazaar would be the first.

...the current cover

As the Swallows Fly Back to Capistrano...

"Sorry I can't go out with you. I have to switch my closets."

...or the mosquitoes fly back to Texas, it happens every spring. I don't just mean Tax Day, April 15, which today is, I mean that great migration known around my house as The Switching of the Wardrobe. You may not be doing this yet, depending where you live. You may never do it, depending where you live (Alaska and Hawaii come to mind), but for most of us the shedding of skins (figuratively of course) is a twice-yearly event that is welcomed on the one hand yet dreaded on the other.

Why I welcome the great migration:

> Spring is coming/spring is here! I hate winter. At the very least I'm tired of it.

> As I'm tired of winter, I'm bored with its raiments. Enough already. Boredom thy name is woman.

> I can pack away all those things that need hemming or buttons replaced that are lined up at one end of the closet. And though I know I should have the sweaters and pants cleaned before I store them, I won't. It's painful to squoosh newly dry cleaned clothing into my storages boxes, and squoosh I must.

> I can reinvent myself yet again. My summer self is way different from my winter self. It's a lot more Bohemian-on-Safari. Hard to pull off floaty when you're freezing.

Why I dread the switcheroo:

> There are more summer clothes than winter necessitating more hangers (where did I put them???), but winter clothes take up more space in boxes. Who said I wasn't good at math?

> Last summer's pile of mending is facing me again.

> I am faced with the irrefutable evidence that there is a little more of me to love (no, clothes do not shrink in the storage box).

> I have too many clothes, both coming and going.

###

Nevertheless, it must be done. I will try to follow my own advice. Which is:

> Do the task in one fell swoop. You will make a mess, so give yourself plenty of time. At the very worst, do sweaters one day, pants another, then dresses, etc. And clean up after yourself. I've tried sleeping on a bed of hangers, and it's no fun.

> Speaking of beds, cover yours with a sheet or blanket before you start. We have cats. Cats have fur. Everybody has lint.

> Take everything out and lay it on the bed. IF YOU DIDN'T WEAR IT ALL WINTER make plans to GIVE IT AWAY. Many charity and thrift shops won't take what would be out-of-season merchandise so you may have to find another place to store it through the summer. Put it in a bag or box and don't look at it again!

> Once you have tidied that up, move on to your "new" clothes, most likely wrinkled beyond belief after their long winter's nap. If it needs cleaning, naturally this is the time to do it. Don't hang anything that isn't ready to wear. This is where a full-size stand steamer comes in handy, and I swear by my Jiffy Pro J2. It set me back $150 but was life-changing.

See how happy she looks!

> Suck it up. Try it on before you hang it away.

> If you haven't yet get some good hangers. Please, please no wire hangers or plastic tube hangers. They are useless and break. You can now get those formerly-pricey felt non-slip hangers at drugstores and metal skirts hangers are a one-time investment.

> Organize, organize! Ideally you want to do it by color then sub organize color by sleeve length. Some women prefer to separate work clothes from weekend clothes, dressy from casual. Organize however works for you, but do it and keep it that way.

> We all begin with resolutions to go minimal. We think this will make us better dressers. Space abhors a vacuum, and I can assure you that if you have too much space in your closet you will go out and buy stuff to fill it. So hang up a few questionable pieces you wonder if you will wear. Just be sure your closet is still "shopable", a nice retail term meaning the customer can actually reach in and pull an item off the rack.

I wish you good luck. I wish me good luck.

The List of Shame

Guilty! A very unofficial poll I've taken has revealed what it is we women do that annoys the hell out of us. We strive to be better shoppers and smarter dressers but are beset by a host of demons that lead us astray. They tend to fall into easily definable catagories. Herewith:

The Groundhog Day Effect

> We keep buying the same things over and over, whether we wear them or not. These could be pencil skirts, white blouses or black turtlenecks— basic pieces that are basically boring but we Think We Should Own. I can't tell you the last time I wore a pencil skirt, which looks terrible on me anyways, but I have given them too much closet space. I also own many lovely white blouses that I won't wear because I don't want to get them dirty. Please tell me I am not the only one.

> We keep buying our personal weaknesses over and over— be it handbags, shoes, scarves or jewelry. This is the amassing of quantities of a particular commodity that far outnumbers the need. Don't you really wear the same two necklaces all the time anyways?

>  We keep buying it over and over— trying to get the RIGHT one. This is usually a basic item— like black pants— not a luxury piece like Swarovski-encrusted cardigans. Whatever the initial enthusiasm, after one wearing you've decided these are not the end-all, be-all of black pants. And you will start looking for them again. I personally have done this with blue chambray shirts and now have enough for a road company of "Oklahoma".

OK but not for me...

Fuzzy Logic

> We bought because it was a bargain. It was so cheap you couldn't get it at Target for that price. You don't need it, but need is not the issue. You've thrown away more on a lunch. Truth: it is so rare to actually find a bargain, something that you need and love and wear ad infinitum. Rule of thumb: items found in the bargain bin usually end up in the dust bin.

> We bought because we wanted to shop and/or had money in our pockets. There is no worse feeling than going shopping and finding nothing. You will find something, which primes the pump to buy more— all of which should be returned pronto.

Wishful Thinking

> We try to replicate our favorite long-gone outfits. You may have divested in an orgy of resolution, but are not that resolved the next day. You are, however, too late and will have to buy it back from the thrift shop if you ever see it again. What follows is a prolonged— usually futile attempt— to repurchase it.

> We have happy memories. It reminds you of the dress you wore that summer on Cape Cod or the sweater your college roommate loaned you for the semester (and you hated to give back). It's not an exact replica, of course, but it's got you thinking— with a smile on your face. This can be an expensive (and futile) trip down memory lane.

> We bought in hopes of the occasion that never happened. Just because I have the right floaty sundress and rustic sandals does not necessarily mean I will spend my summer vacation on the Amalfi coast. Although it would be nice...

Zara has Closed!

Panic not unless you live within 150 miles of zip code 77056. That's your closest Zara— in Houston.

Everyone else: breathe a sigh of relief.

The Zara Houston Galleria closed on March 29 to renovate. Great! Except they won't be open again until fall. No temporary quarters anywhere. Closed. Boarded up. Not even a sign, but word has it "fall" is the target re-opening. Extra bonus good news: the new Zara will be two stories thus two times bigger. Of course this will take six months; they have to saw through the ceiling!

I won't miss customer service at the old Zara; it doesn't exist. That's not the same as bad customer service. The associates do their jobs, but that consists of staff the fitting room, ring up customers, put away go-backs. No outfitting suggestions or personal shopping. I won't miss the fitting rooms either; they are freezing. Despite all this I can't helping thinking what are those folks doing about jobs in the meantime?

The first Zara opened in Spain in 1975 and was originally to be called Zorba, but a nearby bar of the same name objected. One of the earliest purveyors of "fast fashion", it manufactures all its own goods (all over the world) and never advertises (one of few retailers who do not). The differences between Zara and its competitors H&M, Top Shop, Forever 21, etc. is a fairly sophisticated style ethic that picks up on designer trends before anyone else (and quickly). Quality fabrication and manufacturing belie the reasonable price tags. Plus Zara has its own "cool" and doesn't try to mimic those high street or mall neighbors.

Zara is an international operation with 1808 stores from Algeria (2) to Venezuela (10) and everywhere in between. There are 324 in Spain, 126 in France, 89 in Japan, 71 in Russia, 2 in Bosnia-Herzegovina and 45 in the United States. Or is that 44?

And what will I do? Shop online? I've done it before, and Zara by mail is quite efficient. But I've only ever cyber-shopped when the store was out of my size. Feeling and fit are still two important reasons to get yourself into a bricks and mortar establishment. The nearest Zara is now four hours away— in Austin. Road trip, anyone?

See you in September...

Cropped! A Short Story

Ever since Audrey Hepburn wore one in "Funny Face", I've tried to pull off the cropped top. With no success. Many moons have passed. There is no way to do it today. Or is there? Perhaps we need to re-examine this whole cropped thing.

The crop top has appeared after seasons of tunics and flow-y. This makes sense as Fashion must induce us to buy something new or else why buy anything at all? Did I mention Fashion was a business? I seriously doubt anyone over 16 has the right to publicly bare her midriff off the beach. No matter your age, if you are hesitating over this trend, don't do it.

On the other hand, there are smart ways to wear cropped:

> Layer a crop top over a cami, tank, or shirt.

> You can pop on a cropped jacket. Just be sure it's a fuller cut so it does not say "bolero".

Yes, you can crop with cropped

> Dust off your "Chanel". The classic and classy Chanel -style jacket is short and boxy. Two out of three ain't bad. It can play cropped when layered over something longer.

> You can choose instead the crop top's saner sister— a dropped shoulder/wider body piece that hits at or slightly below the waist. Think of it as "square cut".

You've not outsmarted Fashion, exactly, but you've showed her who's boss.