the clothes 2011

As my 21st birthday approaches next week I decided to look back in old photo albums. So, let's play a game...Can you spot the Clothes Horse in these pictures? Hint: I'm the cute one.

Some of you might remember the pictures I took previously in the washer and dryer (since my clothes are hanging in the basement). I wasn't completely satisfied with the results last time. I changed the angle and I'm much more pleased this time around. I am especially pleased with the soft, faded colors of the background and the poppy brights of my outfit.

When I asked my sister to describe my style, she called it "trendy." I was a bit miffed. I was hoping for quirky, eccentric, personal, classic with a twist, etc. You see there are a number of words I have a problem with (cute, hip, trendy.) To me to be trendy is to be a slave to the trends. Concerned with what is "in" and what is "out" this season--which I'm not.

Since I do follow fashion I tend to become aware and drawn by the current "ins." I believe that enough exposure to an item can lead to attraction (this is what happened to me with bubble hems: hatred grew to acceptance, which grew to desiring). Ultimately, though I like to decide what I like or dislike regardless of trends and attempt to remain honest to my personal style (whatever that is). To be perfectly honest with my limited fashion how can I be a slave to trends? I can't trash my wardrobe or buy a new one each season! I don't even do regular season shopping; new clothes at the beginning of a school year and a fresh wardrobe in spring.

All this has gotten me thinking about the trends--the good, the bad, and the ugly. There is good to be said about trends; they bring changes and new looks, which are exciting. Trends are also the stock of the young we can embrace them wholeheartedly and laugh when we look back at the "mistakes" we made, because part of the joy of fashion is something dressing like lunatics. But the bad, why are we so eager to cast off things we formerly "loved" (or were infatuated with) and love whatever the next thing we are told to love. It makes us seem unthinking and slaves to marketing, without thoughts or opinions of our own. The ugly: why do we even ignore our own body types and wear just plain unflattering garments? Giant shoulder pads, hammer pants, exaggerated bubble hems, while these can be pulled off, clearly not everyone has the body for them!

I adore fashion, but I am frustrated by the transient nature and our own fickleness in regards to it. Should I desire to look back on some outfits I made in the past and laugh or should I look back still in love with each item and wonder where they have gotten to?

Encouraged by the somewhat success of my first pair of customized stockings, I decided to do another pair. I fell back to my signature style of doodling and drew on the outside of each leg. I'm not completely decided on whether these are "finished" or not, but they are definitely already wearable! My pictures aren't the best because my battery started to die, so it was one quick shot for everything, though I would like to showcase them better. Oh, and I'm leaving the first pair with only one leg drawn on, because personally I prefer it that way.

Sometimes (oftentimes) others put it more eloquently:

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign,

Sails the unshadowed main,

The venturous bark that flings

On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings

In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings,

And coral reefs lie bare,

Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl;

Wrecked is the ship of pearl!

And every chambered cell,

Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell,

As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell,

Before thee lies revealed,

Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed!

Year after year beheld the silent toil

That spread his lustrous coil;

Still, as the spiral grew,

He left the past year's dwelling for the new,

Stole with soft steps its shining archway through,

Built up its idle door,

Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee,
Child of the wandering sea,

Cast from her lap, forlorn!

From thy dead lips a clearer note is born

Than ever Triton blew from wreathèd horn!

While on mine ear it rings,

Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings:

Build thee more stately mansions,

O my soul, As the swift seasons roll!

Leave thy low-vaulted past!

Let each new temple, nobler than the last,

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,

Till thou at length art free,

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!

-by Oliver Wendell Holmes

I finally got around to doing that D.I.Y. tights project I mentioned ages back. A brief visit to Target rewarded me with several pairs of tights for an average of $2.00 each. Most I don't think I will alter in any way, but I felt these bright blue ones would work well for my little project (yellow would have been better, but these would do).
I couldn't quite figure out a way to give the tights the shape of my legs without wearing, so (against my previous instructions) I wore them while drawing on them! I layered a pair of black opaques underneath and used a sharpie marker to create the design. I may go in an darken the lines again, but they're darker than they appear in these images, since the flash alters the appearance of the tights somewhat.
So, here in all their symbolic vain glory are my new peacock feather tights:

Sometimes I wonder if I am becoming a one trick pony. I've gotten on this kick of wearing layered skirts and the same silhouette. Luckily, I have a shopping excursion planned for this weekend to a real mall (my first real mall in ages, thrift stores are grand, but sometimes you want more). Hopefully, I will force myself to diversify and buy pieces that I normally wouldn't and so update my look. I having been playing around with different doodles and drawings lately, still trying to find that scribbling style that is my own.

My brief mention to old Hollywood starlets in another post reminded me of one of my favorites, Jean Harlow (who was in love with one of my favorite male stars, William Powell). Jean Harlow was the original blonde bombshell (I'm not giving that term loosely out of fandom, this term was coined for her); she had a flair for drama and comedy. She tragically died young of poor health from which she had suffered all her life.

She's also given credit for a number of great quotes that evoke her sharp (witty, smart?) personality; my favorite being "When you lie down with dogs, you wake up with fleas."

I mentioned this before, but sometimes clothes make me excited--dressing becomes a pleasure and a creative endeavour. I really like this new outfit made possible by my new striped skirt. Also, everything I'm wearing is thrifted except the teal skirt (which was on sale) and the tights (also on sale), which means it was extraordinarily cheap!
Ninja has a project going on, which requires creative pictures from all over the world that say "Michelle Loves Tyler." It sounds like fun, I'm already thinking of something I would like to submit... Everyone with free time and creative juices should send one in--I'm sure she'll share the final results!

I am already convinced for a variety of reasons that my generation is full of "Peter Pans" or boys who refuse to grow up, but I'm also wondering if the our quest for youth has led us to become a generation of Lolitas? Due to the marvels of plastic surgery Hollywood never seems to age and it's also ironic how women get cast as mothers as actors only a few years their junior (Angelina Jolie in Alexander). Are we led to believe that men are only attracted to the very young and juvenile (are men led to believe that is beauty?)?

Further, has this preoccupation with adolescence manifested itself in our garments? While some designers are shifting back towards a more mature look (Marc Jacobs and he was largely criticized for his clothing as "aging" the models), the new buzz designer Erin Fetherson perpetuates the young, "Lolita" look. Her petal hemmed skirts are sickly sweet and don't get me started on the implications of her commercial for Target (see Dreamecho's post).

While Fetherson is an easy target for visualizing what I believe is the "look," she is by no means alone or to blame. When we don our empire-waisted baby doll dresses or extravagant bubble hem pieces that not only don't highlight womanly curves but downright discourage and mask them, what message are we sending about the ideal of beauty?

Where are the curvy beauty icons of yore? Why is my style inspiration and beauty idol supposedly a naive child? A worldly female figure has more advice to offer and a more scintillating wardrobe. I am hardly a worldly woman, but as a female about to turn twenty-one (official adulthood) and someone who tends to be taken for far younger than they actually are, this is a very trying rumination. While I am acquiring more freedoms, rights, and responsibilities, how do I reconcile this with a world of fashion that idolizes the body of prepubescence and the ruffles of childhood?

In the end I suppose I must focus on the collections that embody how I would prefer to present myself, rather than those that only serve to irritate me.

I miss summer, I miss Hawaii and I want to go back! This has been the longest winter I've ever experienced and it's not over yet. There are many joys to being the daughter of a military officer, you experience many different places by moving every three years. But unfortunately if you get really attached to some place (Hawaii) you are forced to leave there as well. Will I ever get to go back?

The mermaid inspired looks from Jean Paul Gaultier are clinging to my thoughts, which is not helping to take my mind off the ocean (or lack there of).