This is their annual monster of a sale, with all manner of product marked down until August 8, when regular prices pop back up again. Pretty much everything on offer is for the coming season, and I know it’s borderline unthinkable to contemplate wearing such clothing when it’s so deathly hot outside, but under these circumstances it’s really worth it to put yourself in the mindset. First up: this V-neck comes with cuff and collar conveniently sewn in, so you get a very together look without all the bulk. Plus: leopard print!
I like these trousers because they’re slouchy but still nicely tailored, and, color-wise, quite versatile and a good alternative to the same old same old black.
Just the kind of comfy big old ribbed cardigan you’ll reach for always.
Under no circumstances am I allowed to buy myself a new coat—the situation is well beyond critical mass at this point—but the speckled boucle and cocoon-y cut here are both just so damn good.
Welcome to the official 2000th post here at Girls of a Certain Age, and thanks to all of you who contributed questions to what has turned out to be quite a mega-Q&A indeed. I got around to answering pretty much everything, although I chose only to answer a single question from those of you who asked more than one—I was a bit overwhelmed by the volume of questions lobbed my way—and some of the queries seemed better suited to be considered as actual future posts. Do have as much fun reading the following as I had writing it.
If you weren’t in the media, what would you be doing?
I think I would have made a really good rock star, were it not for the fact that I’ve got nothing in the way of musical talent.
What about your current life would most surprise your younger self?
All of it. But in particular, that I came to the city of my dreams, and that many of my dreams came true here.
Would you mind discussing how you make a living and afford not only fabulous clothes but also travel and a kick-ass apartment in NY?
Not at all. For a little over a decade, I had a great job that paid very, very nicely. I saved wisely and invested well. This has allowed me to pursue my current, beloved, and yet not hugely lucrative professional endeavor.
Seriously, where do you keep all of the amazing clothes you suggest? What are your closets like?!?
I don’t buy even a fraction of all the items I suggest! Which is not to say I don’t have plenty of clothes, which fit in one small walk-in closet—with the help of the miracle that is Huggable Hangers—and a roomy chest of drawers. (more…)
Today, I’ve chosen to focus on a few items that are regarded as atrocious by men*, but appealing to me. First up: I know that guys deplore caftans, and that many women as well find them impossibly shleppy, but my esteem for them is so great that it’s hard for me to believe that anybody objects to them on any level. Yes, they are shapeless; true, they add bulk. But I feel so pretty and feminine when I’m swanning about in one (because that is one does in a caftan; swans) that I wish they were more widely regarded as appropriate streetwear. I already splurged on a rather divine confection from Two New York, so I can’t quite justify going for this one, but that can’t stop me from dreaming.
It came as something as a surprise to me to learn that gentlemen object to platforms, and I didn’t quite believe it when my young cousin John informed me of this several years ago. But after having this double and then triple confirmed, I went on to decide I did not care: the ease with which they add a few inches to my height adds hugely to my self-esteem in a way that at least makes me feel more attractive, and if the opposite sex does not see things that way, then that’s a reality I’m willing to live with. The flatform—which is something of a red-haired stepchild of the platform—is not always a personal favorite, but Teva’s quite jolie laide (and surely deeply comfortable) iteration appeals.
Now here is one that is viewed with almost universal disdain: the drop-crothch trouser. But for those of us who are deeply committed to a slouchy look—and if you know nothing of me, I feel certain you know that—they can’t be beat. For some women, there will always be too many MC Hammer associations ever to give them a shot; I get that. I’ll never get past cowboy boots reminding me of Rodeo Day back in middle school in Texas. So I won’t push too hard on you to give them a rethink. I will add, though, that they are tops for (real or imagined) fat days.
*And here I realize that I am of course generalizing.
So, very soon I will have written my 2,000th post. And to mark this momentous event, I thought I might give you the opportunity to ask me anything. I will answer your every question, as long as it isn’t too entirely personal (I’ll try to make as few things off-limits as possible) or libelous. Is this at all interesting to you? If so, leave your queries in the comments.
I have decided that it is far too hot out to be insecure about the state of my (highly imperfect) upper arms, and that I shall bare them with impunity. This shift in thinking has set me free, and possibly it will do the same for you. I have wanted this particular top for ages now—it would be so damn fresh as part of any white-on-white ensemble—and I’m finally thinking about pulling the trigger, jiggle be damned.