Outfit Post: How many sizes hang in your closet?

Yesterday, emboldened by the suddenly warm weather, I decided embark on an epic quest to clean out my closet. One of the things I insisted on when we relocated here to Dallas was a  walk-in closet in the master bedroom. As a former New Yorker raised in teeny tiny apartments, I've spent the majority of my post-adolescent life daydreaming of the Perfect Closet. As a result, my closet fantasies have grown increasingly intricate for a space some might consider insignificant (and by some, I mean men. Men whose footwear is limited to a pair of Chucks and scuffed black dress shoes. You know those men.)  

My Perfect Closet is a spacious, airy room, flooded by daylight from floor-to-ceiling windows and antique chandeliers. Anchored by a pink quilted fainting couch, it features custom-designed closet rods designed to bear the considerable weight of maxi skirts, dresses, jeans and blazers. Perfect Closet also includes a generous array of padded, compartmentalized drawers to hold jewelry, lingerie, tights and socks. Rows and rows of shelves are dedicated to shoes, organized by color, heel height, and brand. Floor-length mirrors make it possible for me to know exactly what I look like without relying on my husband's opinion (which is always the same. "Uh, you look great...I mean hot...I mean thin. Yeah, that's it.") Perfect Closet comes fully equipped with an Italian seamstress and Italian-English interpreter for said seamstress. It would always be immaculate; it would always be organized; and it would always smell like clean laundry, suede, and Gucci Envy.
 
Basically, imagine Mariah Carey's closet, but with less glitter and butterflies.

Dream lover, come rescue me.

Naturally, the reality of my closet doesn't quite meet with the fantasy. Instead of custom-made shoe cabinets and padded drawers, it features haphazard mounds of rejected potential outfits, belts intertwined in a sexually suggestive manner, and twisted wayward hangers. However, it's a walk-in, and includes plenty of room for my ever-growing collection of vintage clothes and whatever intriguing crap I haul home from the Goodwill.

While struggling through Project Closet Purge yesterday, I couldn't help but notice that the size of my garments varied. Widely. One shirt was a XS; two skirts, one a size four and one an 8, shared a hanger; another top was a M. I recently learned that the majority of women have a minimum of three sizes in their wardrobe. What gives? I have a number of theories:

• Weight fluctuations: We all have things we can't wear because they're too big or too small. Many of us own articles of clothing in "aspirational sizes" - items in smaller sizes we either used to wear, or own merely to emotionally flagellate ourselves into eating less and exercising more. I'm always reluctant to get rid of items that don't fit. It makes sense: I spent good money them! And I might even love that blouse/dress/pair of jeans! Having an emotional attachment to an item certainly makes it more challenging to part with. Furthermore, if your weight yo-yo's,  there's a little voice in the back of your head whispering keep it, you might wear it again. And there's really no way to know if this voice is right.

• Complex Proportions: Quite often (and this will simply shock you) our bodies refuse to conform to one size. Occasionally, and stop me if you've heard this, your top half and bottom half are different sizes. Large-busted and small-hipped; small on top and larger bottom; tiny waist and fuller hips; broad-shouldered and petite. Most clothes rarely account for such wide variations. Traditional sizing revolves around six different body types: round, inverted triangle, hourglass, pear, diamond, and straight. However,  today's fashion industry has replaced the six different categories with two terms, “bottom-” or “top” heavy, with multiple combinations between each. A Google search regarding dressing for your body type revealed over eleven million pages. It's no wonder our closets hold so many sizes.

• Standardized Sizing Is A Joke: This is ridiculous and not discussed enough. If you wear a Small T-shirt from the Gap, you'll need a Medium at Abercrombie & Fitch. If you wear a size two at Loft, you'll need a four or six at Urban Outfitters. Occasionally, even garments sold at the same store won't have congruent sizing. Take Target and Old Navy. I've bought the same style pants in different colors, all in the same size. One pair was too big, one too small, and one just right. There is no reasonable explanation for this. Nothing causes more cognitive dissonance for me than to know that my beloved faux leather bomber jacket from Target is an XL while the T-shirt I'm wearing under it is a small.

• Vanity Sizing: According to Wikipedia, vanity sizing, also known as size inflation, is used to refer to the phenomenon of ready-to-wear clothing of the same nominal size becoming larger over time. So pants you purchase in stores today might be two to three sizes smaller than those you purchased five years ago, despite no change to your weight. Vanity sizing, as its name suggests, is designed to satisfy buyers' wishes to appear thin and feel better about themselves. However, in the end, you have no clue what size you really are.

Of course, it doesn't matter how many sizes you have. But I'm curious - have you struggled with sizing issues? Do emotional attachments make it difficult for you to get rid of things? Do you purchase clothes in aspirational sizes as a weight loss or fitness goal? What do you think about vanity sizing? Has it affected how you shop? And...just for fun...what does your dream closet look like? 

Thrifted Target blazer; thrifted Romeo and Juliet Couture tee; thrifted vintage Ann Taylor silk skirt; Gap Outlet tights; Urban Outfitters 6x6 booties; Gap crossbody bag; Forever 21 bracelet; Betsey Johnson watch

Outfit Post: Do you dress older or younger than you really are?

I'm going to start this post with a confession: I am closer to 40 than I am to 20. A lot closer. However, I wear clothes that most twenty-somethings embrace - such as miniskirts, mixed patterns, trapeze tanks (like I have on today) and platform booties. My favorite stores include Forever 21, Lulu's, and Urban Outfitters, stores that attract twenty-somethings like bees to honey. And I love my tattoos, crazy bright red hair, and willingness to experiment with my ever-changing personal style.

However, as I've gotten older, I've become a bit more concerned about dressing age-appropriately while continuing to wear the things that make me feel the most me. I cannot relate to the desperation to look younger that some women have. I will never inject my face with poison to banish wrinkles. I will never willingly fork over money to get my lips plumped, cellulite treated, or face lifted. To be honest, when I get dressed in the morning, I don't spend much time thinking about the age-appropriateness of my outfit. If I like how I look, that's enough for me, whether I'm garbed in Forever 21 or pulling on an Ann Taylor cardigan and pants.

However, I was intrigued by a January survey from British department store Debenhams, which reveals that a whopping 89% of women "desire to dress younger than their years," and that 55% consider 70 the ideal age to finally start dressing the part of someone born in their birth year. According to CNBC, "Most women felt that their thirties and forties were torn between dressing frumpier when adjusting to demands of babies and small children and a growing concern with looking younger. Over 50% said they started to dress younger in their thirties and 90% admitted they had started to dress younger by their mid-forties."

A spokesperson for the store says, "You only have to look at celebrity examples like Elle Macpherson and Sophia Loren to see that women are looking younger than ever. So it's no surprise that our customers are also dressing for how they feel, rather than what it says on their drivers license - and we want to encourage them." 

Perhaps the most revealing part of the survey was that only 12% of men, by comparison, had ever considered dressing to look younger. 

For most women, adapting your style to your age is no different to dressing for your body type, or your personal style, or your lifestyle. Defining, and dressing age appropriately, is a touchy subject for many women. This study led me to wonder why age-appropriate dressing is a tricky area to navigate:

• People don’t like to be labeled: Judging people as groups instead of individuals poses problems. We prefer to be seen as unique creatures, and how we chose to dress is definitely an individual choice. For example, saying that “women over 40 should not wear miniskirts” is far too general. How short is the skirt? Are you 41 or 89?

• The discrepancy between body and mind: The physical signs of aging start to kick in during our late thirties and early forties. Yet it’s exactly at this age where our intellect and experience really come into their own. Many women are more accepting of themselves. So just as we are becoming more confident and sure of who we are, our bodies start to let us down.

• Dressing to hold onto our youth: We can’t get back the years that have passed, and realizing that they’re gone can be a hard blow to accept. As a result, some women chose to dress younger as a way of retaining their youth.

I think I may start to gravitate towards the women's section a little more when I am, oh, say around 60. I am 36 years old (there, I said it) but can't see myself falling out of love with my skinny jeans, form-fitting tops and mini skirts any time soon. I do wear much less revealing clothing than I did when I was younger - no more low-cut tops or extremely short, tight dresses for me. On the flip side, I know plenty of women younger than me who like to dress "older", exploring their personal style through more modest pieces such as knee-length skirts and blazers.

I love the idea that age is just a number-  check out Helen Mirren in a bikini! - but when do we stop looking like we're flaunting our fabulous figures and start looking a little ridiculous for trying too hard? Do you agree with the survey that says 70 is the perfect time to start dressing your age? Do you think you fairly represent your generation when you get dressed, whatever that may be? Do you dress older or younger than you really are? Leave a comment and discuss!

TJ Maxx trapeze tank; Target racerback tank (underneath); Gap Outlet Cargos; Gap studded sandals; Urban Outfitters necklace; TIKKR watch

Nine-oh-two-one-oh hello, polka dots! (Everybody, Everywear)

Right now on my nightstand perches a tower of magazines so precipitous that it threatens to topple and cause irreparable damage to my wood floors. Along with Tori Amos bootlegs, jeans, and lip gloss, I've always had a thing for magazines. I got my first subscription to Seventeen when I was in the ninth grade. I'm unsure of the exact year because I vehemently avoid math of any sort aside from calculating my clothing budget for the month. I also refuse to disclose the year I graduated high school because it was so long ago that written communication was limited to cave paintings and hieroglyphics.

I took great pleasure in answering those insipid little magazine quizzes about whether you should have sex with your boyfriend (whom I always fantasized to be Brandon Walsh from 90210, but apparently he never got the memo because I am STILL waiting for my phone to ring)  and what your perfume says about your personality and what styles of sunglasses were most flattering for your facial features. In case you're wondering, Seventeen never once recommended when one should have sex with their boyfriend. They were basically against the entire thing.

However, my true magazine love was bullet focused on the fashions. Oh, the FASHIONS! (say this in zee accent of zat zany episode 90210 when Brenda takes on zee affected French accent to seduce zat cute boy during zee senior trip to Parreee. ZEE FAZZIONNNNS!) I have VERY vivid memories of the 90's spreads in Seventeen (and YM and Sassy and Mademoiselle, for that matter.) I never had the urge to be a designer or even learn to sew a button onto my shirt, but I very clearly recall how much in lurve I was with those clothes. It doesn't surprise me that those distinctively 90's fashion trends are so hot right now. The loud florals! The statement necklaces and Doc Martins and maxi skirts! The mixed patterns! While I was doing "research" for this post (i.e scouring blogs, an activity which is coming dangerously close to replacing my magazine obsession) I came across some very colorful teen magazine spreads celebrating the more-is-more 90's spirit.

A natural, healthy body on the cover of a magazine, as opposed to the emaciated models hawking clothing today, is nothing short of a revelation.  And that bold floral bikini gives me the wants so hard.

Teen fashion in the 90's was just all-out fun. This looks FUN, right? The decade gave us a lot to be grateful for. Like the combination of stripes and florals and patterns.

Doc Martins, flannel, and striped? Yes please. (Though the beanie has got to go.)

A friend recently told me that if you were a follower of a fashion trend the first time it came around, you should avoid it like the plague should it resurface again. I always kind of agreed. But seeing these spreads made me reconsider - hence my polka-dot pattern-mixing of today (which happens to coincide perfectly with today's polka dot challenge on Everybody, Everywhere.) Kelly Taylor would approve. (And P.S - I did not wear this blouse two days in a row...these pics were taken last week in preparation because my husband is out of town today. So there.) 

Gap blazer; Forever 21 silk blouse; thrifted vintage polka-dot skirt; Gap Outlet tights; Urban Outfitters 6x6 booties; Forever 21 necklaces; Forever 21 bracelets

Bargain shopping: Where do you draw the line?

I am one of those people who loves a bargain. Time spent digging through the racks of a discount or consignment store is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make. Unearthing a bargain causes the sort of high I imagine career drug users experience (not that I would know. The strongest drug I've ever used was nicotine.) I love informing someone that my Joe's Jeans were purchased during a particularly fruitful dig at the Salvation Army. I adore the look of respect, gleamed from a stylish friend, when I educate her on the origin and price ($10!) of my embroidered Anthropologie sweater (see below.)  I am almost haughty when examining someone's designer purchase, knowing that I would have paid much, much less for it than the wearer. Indeed, if discount shopping were an Olympic sport, I am absolutely certain I would earn a gold medal.

While I am proud of my ability to score a bargain, this knowledge often gets me in trouble. I have a really really hard time passing something up when I know it's a great deal. This might explain why my closet is crammed beyond capacity. Clothes are spilling out of drawers, shoved into storage containers, lurking underneath my bed. My skirts share hangers.  Belts are sexually tangled together in a hulking lump. 

I have a teensy bit of a problem.

Today I had a few hours to fill, so I tripped off to a newly discovered consignment store near my house. I was lazily thumbing through the racks when I uncovered a new with tags J. Crew Collection 3/4 sleeve gold waxed linen belted jacket (whew.) As an avid fan of J. Crew, I knew exactly what this jacket was worth: $275.oo. Price at the consignment store: $45. Score, right? Well, the jacket was a size large. I am not a size large. Moreover, I have absolutely no need for a 3/4 sleeve gold waxed linen jacket. I can't even imagine how I'd wear it, or where I'd wear it to. I imagine women who wear $275 gold waxed linen jackets pair them with diamonds and Louboutin heels and drink dirty martinis with blue cheese-stuffed olives and live in homes decorated by snooty men of questionable sexuality. But it was such a good deal. I'd be crazy to pass it up.

I spent a good twenty minutes examining the jacket. I unbelted it, tried it on, took it off, put it on again, preened at myself in front of the mirror. I examined the lining, the collar, the strength of the stitching holding the buttons. I could feel the salespeople looking at me, questioning my sanity. 

In the end, I decided that despite the bargain price, the jacket was not a financially reasonable purchase. Because I really had no need for such an opulent piece that wasn't even my size. My most expensive heels are from Marshall's. I hate blue cheese. And so my forty-five dollars would have been wasted. (If you're in the Dallas area and want to know the name of the store I was in, shoot me an email.) Will I regret passing the jacket up? Maybe. But I'm not sweating it.

This outfit? All thrifted. Damn proud of it. And much, much more me.

Are you a devoted bargain-hunter? If so, where do you set your limits?

Thrifted Blues Heroes leather jacket; thrifted Sleeping on Snow flutter-sleeve cardigan; thrifted Michael Stars henley; thrifted Seven For All Mankind jeans; thrifted Doc Martens; Urban Outfitters flower studs.

Because of you I smile

You know those days where from the moment you wake up nothing seems to go right? Like say, for instance, you forget to set your alarm and just happen to wake a mere fifteen minutes before your three children need to get to school? That's the start of a not-so-good day. Or what should have been a brief check-up at the doctor turns into an hour of waiting in the exam room while being held captive to overhearing an animated conversation between the nurses about Glee? OR, you get into an argument with the morons at the gym who had told you your kids could enroll in taekwando while your membership was on hold, and now, three months after they started, the morons tell you they can't? 

That's the kind of week I had.

I was so relieved when Saturday rolled around. Here was a chance to sleep late and engage in activities that were guaranteed to be good for my soul. You know how there are certain things that just make you happy, no matter what?  For me, it's baths. Just the process of choosing a frothy aromatic bubble bath, lighting candles, and pouring myself a glass of wine reduces my stress. Taking a bath is a minimum hour-long activity. I make the water as hot as I can stand and read some trashy novel on my Kindle. Personally, I can't think of a better way to catch up on my reading. Is there a better way to catch up on anything? Hell, I would make dinner in there if I could. I want a full-size portable stovetop for Christmas.


Another thing that makes me feel good is a short flippy skirt. Like this one.

Anthropologie floral blouse (eBay); Anthropologie denim skirt; Gap white tee (under blouse); Hue tights; Frye boots; Urban Outfitters ivory flower studs; Plato's Closet leather bracelet.