Driving Moccasins

Over Winter break, I did some shopping in Tucson, AZ at Park Place. Shopping in Tucson is infinitely better than the bay area, both because of the availability of parking and the availability of stuff. People in Tucson just don't buy as much, so sales and even pre-sale selections are much better.

I was looking for nothing in particular, and came across a pair of driving moccasins at Dillards. Driving moccasins are like loafers, but must have a thick rubber sole that extends to the heel of the foot to protect the shoe when you press your foot against the pedal and your heel scuffs against the floor of the car. The most famous types are Tods and Car Shoes; J Crew often sells them as well for a much lower price.

I don't know if this accurate in terms of history; but driving flats remind me of the 1920s. I see women in their driving flats and driving gloves with huge sunglasses and scarves in their hair, drunkenly motoring to a picnic or West Egg or whatever. So this pair of Ralph Lauren croc-embossed mocs fit perfectly into my vision, since PETA didn't exist back in those days and wearing animals around was a sign only of status and not ambivalence towards animal suffering.

The shoes were under $80 on sale, and I've been wearing them with skirts and dresses and black tights and pearls. They've really been tilting the masculin/feminin balance in my wardrobe; they are a perfect addition to an outfit that would otherwise make me look like Emma Pillsbury from Glee. Nina Garcia lists driving mocs as one of the one hundred pieces that every stylish girl should own. They can be hard to come by for under $300, so I'm quite happy about this pair.

So Many Shades of Black

Why is there an inverse relationship between the indoor and outdoor temperature? It's summer outside, but inside you would think that Minnesota winters last longer than five months. The air conditioning where I work is constantly blasting, but wearing tights in June just feels a little depressing. So I went to the GAP in hopes of finding a pair of black slacks.

I didn't find what I was looking for, but I did find the perfect black skirt. I've been looking for one like it ever since I bought the same style at Martin & Osa in dark blue. It's just a basic short, straight fit, and literally no one sold one when I was in the market for it. I had given up and settled on a bubble skirt from Urban Outfitters instead.

I love it. It's perfect. It fills the hole in my closet that I didn't know existed. BUT it's my fifth black skirt. Is this crazy?

Number one is a knee-length cotton-knit skirt from Target. It's a little old-school, which is I suppose what I like about it.

Number two is a lined suit skirt from Ann Taylor Loft. It's pretty much reserved for mock trial and job interviews.

I got this on clearance from Express for $10 and never looked back! It has thin layers of ruffles up to the band, it's a pretty subtle way for me to explore nostalgia for the '20s.

This one is the Urban Outfitters Silence & Noise closest-thing-to-what-I-really-want skirt. But actually, it's kind of grown on me. It's a good mix of indie and girly; appropriate for both the stodgy department store I work in and for shows.

Here it is, the holy grail of black skirts! It fits perfectly, it goes with everything, and it's exactly what I've been looking for. So why do I have buyer's guilt like nothing else over this?

I'm interested in the psychological process of buying; the buyer's happiness and how some people become addicted to it. I have to admit, after a bad day at work, nothing calms me down like buying groceries. Getting the power back from my position at work sometimes feels like a necessity.

Buying this skirt made me realize that I usually maximize the tension and release of a purchase by thinking about it for at least four days. I check for it online, I plan outfits around it, or sometimes I forget about it altogether. By the time I buy, I feel knowledgeable and in control. Getting the skirt was something that I didn't expect, so it felt like it wasn't my decision.

Yeah, I know that it's kind of crazy.

Seeing Red

Red is the ultimate color of female power. It's seductive and passionate; associated with women who are assertive and no-nonsense. In the Matrix, the "Woman in the Red Dress" represents sexuality. On Lost, Jack's wife leaves him wearing red slingbacks. And on House, Dr. Cuddy is often seen in red, low-cut camisoles.

So why is there no red in my closet (save one ill-fitting cardigan)? True, my personality doesn't exactly scream "assertive, aggressive, and powerful". But recently I've been wondering if I should dress slightly against my personality, and add elements that stretch my persona, if only a little bit.

Red near my face makes me look like a tomato, but a red belt or shoes could work well.

Ideally, I dress to reflect my feelings, which are always slightly unpredictable. I like the idea of giving a hint of something beyond the relatively placid facade, just a nudge towards "don't mess with Marina".

Flip-Flopper

The first time I ever felt embarrassed to be wearing flip-flops was in Nice. I was chatting with my neighbor Jack, a French businessman. He looked down at my feet, and then up at me, and gave me a long, hard stare. He didn’t say “stupid American”, but I heard it.

I know that flip-flops are considered gauche in other countries. But growing up in Tucson, AZ has given me a unique perspective on this. In Tucson, you can flip-flop into the fanciest restaurant in town, head held high. I grew up around stunning U of A girls, with long, tan legs. They wear soffe shorts and flip-flops like Hogwarts students wear robes. It’s a mark of belonging. So for me, flip-flops represent a casual glamour.

Of course, other people don’t see it that way. Tim Gunn writes about the “flip-flop waddle” (Guide to Taste and Style, p. 100). According to Mr. Gunn, flip-flops give people’s posture too much liberty; they tend to bow out their legs and waddle. He argues that this makes a person’s butt look terrible. I’ve also heard urban rumors that flip-flops will make your feet bigger if you wear them too much, esp. during pregnancy. More than either of these arguments, though, I’m driven by Jack and his cold French stare when I turn away from my flip-flops. They are worn exclusively to take out the trash and to shower in the gym.

But then comes the change from Winter to Summer, when girls in Minnesota pack away their Ugg boots (I know, I know!) in favor of pretty ballet flats and sandals. And with new shoes come blisters. In the past three days, I wore (in order) driving flats, peeptoe slingbacks, and wedges. By the end of these three days, my heels were covered in blisters. So, with no apologies, I wore my flip-flops out and about.

If this isn’t a reason for flip-flops, I don’t know what is. Something I’ve never been clear on: are nicer “thong” sandals something that Jack would turn up his nose at? If they function like flip-flops save for the noise, do they still count?

I guess the main problem is the waddle, so I suppose I should see if those pricier sandals actually prevent it. I’ll report back with findings!

Statistical Analysis

I think we've all heard the statistic that most women are wearing the wrong bra size. Depending on the salesperson, it's either 70%, 80%, or the happy-medium, 75%. I used to think that this was a fake study conducted by Victoria's Secret, like a study by Phillip Morris examining the effects of smoking. You're probably wearing the wrong bra size, so why not get a complete new set from us? However, after working as a lingerie salesperson at two different stores, I've come to the conclusion that this number, whatever it's origins, is probably close to correct.

When I started at my job in March, I was measured by a co-worker. She first told me my band size: 32. While I had been wearing a 34, I always knew that I really should have been in a 32, I just got tired of sorting through every rack to find the right size, so I settled for something close. Then she told me my cup size, and I literally yelled "What!?" I was wearing not one, but two cup sizes too small.

This seemed absurd, I was so resistant that once I got home I re-measured myself for the same result. Even after the new bras fit perfectly, this new size was just crazy. Then the statistic came back to me: 70-80% of women wearing the wrong bra size. I was basing my size not on what felt good, but on what the women around me reported themselves to be. If everyone's wearing the wrong size, it causes a kind of mass hysteria where B cups are wearing A cups because C cups are wearing B cups.

Anyone who has worked in lingerie sales can tell you that women put stock in their bra size. Once someone has it in their head that they're, for example, a 36D, it becomes part of their identity. If you tell her she's actually a G, that's scary, because in her mind, she's entering into freak territory.

In fact, it's hard not to feel that way when many brands don't carry your size. Lingerie is already a sensitive area, so the embarrassment can be multiplied when a style isn't made for you. Especially when it's a non-utilitarian style, it can feel like the brand is saying: "You aren't sexy. You don't deserve to have this. Don't you wish you were still a 36D?" I admit, I succumbed to this line of thinking, and this is why I wore a 34, knowing it was wrong.

Now that I'm wearing the right size, I feel different. My posture has improved, and it's easy to breathe, because underwire isn't digging into my ribcage. The pressure has been taken off my shoulders from wearing the wrong band size. And my breast tissue isn't being cut into by a too-tight garment. I hate the limitations of my size, but I would rather have a few well-fitting bras than a lot of poor-fitting ones.

All of this being said, here is how you measure a bra. I'd recommend a trusted friend, boyfriend, or husband help you. You should be wearing a bra without much padding for this process.

1. After you've exhaled, measure the circumference beneath your bra. The measuring tape should be parallel to the floor. If the measurement is even, add four inches; odd, five. This is your band size.

2. Measure the circumference over the widest part of your bust while your arms are by your sides. The measuring tape should again be parallel to the floor. Subtract 38 from this number. If the number is "1", you're an A cup. 2, your a B cup. Etc.

3. Once you get your size, evaluate bras carefully. The size is an estimation, it's not as important as fit. Checklist:

* The band should be parallel to the floor, and shouldn't rise above the band in the front. If it does rise, your band size is too big. If it digs in, it's too small.

* You should be able to fit two fingers under your straps, but that fit should be snug.

* You should fill out the cups, but not burst out. Raise your arms. If you're coming out the bottom, go up a cup size. Bend down and shake. Again, if you're coming out, go up.

* The center panel should be flat against your breastbone. If it's not, you're wearing a cup size too small.

* The underwire shouldn't dig into your breast tissue, it should encircle it. If it's right everywhere else but the underwire is off, don't buy it.

Some stores conduct quality fittings, but watch out for stores that don't take the time to go into the fitting room with you, or don't seem to be taking a careful measurement. These stores may intentionally tell you the wrong bra size, just so you will buy a lot more to remedy your situation. I can't speak to all Victoria's Secret locations, but I know that some of them take part in this misleading practice. I would know, I worked at one.

Opening My Closet

Dear Readers,

Before I first left for college, I was under the (misguided) impression that I would have to start dressing like an adult. My too-tight t-shirts and vintage mini-skirts were on their way out in favor of real-life fitted trousers and button-downs. My mom and I used the Lucky Guide to Style, which lists the bare necessities of a well-tailored closet. I had nearly none of them, so we shopped around for some reasonably-priced basics.

When I arrived at my uber-hip super-liberal arts college, I found myself overdressed. The necessities of an adult closet are not those of a college student. This isn't to say that most of my (mom's) purchases didn't come in handy; I certainly wore the plain white t-shirts and the cords. But there were so many times when I felt that something was missing, and that despite a closet full of clothes I had nothing to wear.

Now I'm a college graduate, one week and counting, and I'm trying to figure out what one needs to feel prepared to be well-dressed. I'm certainly interested in fashion, but I'm not looking for trendy items (maxi dresses!) that I'll feel stupid wearing next year, and frankly, now. I'm working a few part-time jobs, so I'm not rolling in cash. I want to make practical purchases that will last a few years. I'm also interested in dressing intelligently while still acknowledging my age (22).

I hope that this blog will help others to reflect about the items in their closet that have been worth the time, those that haven't, and those that could be. The recession isn't a reason to stop buying if you can afford to do so; many people (myself included) rely on retail sales for a living. Rather, I think it's a time to streamline purchases. Ideally, a closet addition should have multiple options, it shouldn't need new accessories, and it should be classic enough to last a few years. Which is to say, it should look so good on you that you will have reason to wear it if it goes out of style.

I invite comments from dissenters, doubters, and supporters. Let me know your thoughts!

Best Wishes,

Marina Duvall