“Stet” Jeans from Pilcro and the Letterpress

Midday yesterday, I finished up a big project that had been hanging over my head: copy-editing a 200-page book in four days. Note to all aspiring copy-editors out there: this is a crazy-making schedule. I had gone to the Union Square area in order to deliver my edits to the book’s designer, so I decided to reward myself with some shopping. Jewelry? Perfume? Lipstick? Something delightful and frivolous that would serve as a treat and a memento of the hard work I’d done.

I wandered into Anthropologie, checked out the jewelry and the sales racks, considered buying one of these adorable flower vases:

“Pretty Pansy Vase,” $18

and then my eye fell upon a table of jeans.  I couldn’t believe what I saw: one style of jeans seemed to be called the “STET,” and the other was called the “EDIT.” They were from the brand Pilcro and the Letterpress.

I could hardly keep from laughing.  What better way to reward myself for my hard work than with a pair of jeans named after copy-editing terminology?

Although they cost more than I had been planning to spend on my “frivolous little treat,” I do need new jeans. Since the start of the year I have managed to tear holes in three pairs of jeans — one because I tripped, ripped my jeans and skinned my knee; and two through natural wear and tear. (My jeans always seem to wear through just beside the knee, in the creases that form on the back of the leg when you sit. Anyone else have this problem?)

So I tried on both styles and went with the classic five-pocket STET jean, in “slim bootcut” style and clay wash. (The EDIT jean was cut too skinny for a pear-shaped girl like me.)

“Stet” jeans in slim bootcut, $118

Classic styling, a cute and nerd-friendly name, and a good story to go along with it. My kind of jeans.

The Oscars Fashion Post

I loved the Art Nouveau embellishments of Jessica Chastain’s Alexander McQueen gown and thought that the look suited her in every way. McQueen designs are known for being both beautiful and serious, and that fits with Chastain’s image — she’s walking a fine line between “hot new starlet” and “Great Actress in the making.” All of that gold trim prevents the black from looking too stark against her pale skin, and she’s had such a big year that she deserves to wear something opulent. The botanical-themed embroidery recalls The Tree of Life, and she finished off the look with lovely yellow (citrine? topaz?) earrings. I like to think that if I attended the Oscars I would have the courage to wear something innovative and ornate like Chastain’s gown, but in reality I would probably default to something like what Natalie Portman wore: Cute Vintage Ballgown plus Big Sparkly Jewelry. Portman looks unpretentious, but not plain or boring.Emma Stone was my favorite presenter (the only one to really make me laugh out loud) but didn’t have my favorite dress. Not that she looked bad — far from it! It’s nice to see a redhead daring to wear a red gown. But Emma is just 23 years old and I could easily picture this style of gown being worn by an actress 10 or 20 years older than her. She has so much charm and personality — so I’d like to see her in something a little younger and more fun.

Meanwhile, do you think Emma Stone could open a charm school and give Rooney Mara a few lessons? I fail to see why everyone is so crazy about her. All right, her look is unique and relies upon some very high-fashion designers. But I guess I’ve never been attracted to severe, edgy styles, and Mara always looks so frail and nervous. Also, the Vogue article where she seemed weirdly in thrall to David Fincher (Trilby/Svengali style) put me ill at ease. As for her Givenchy Oscar gown, I think she’s too pale to look good in a white dress and the overall effect is chilly and bloodless. I wish she’d try some color — a soft blue-gray might look lovely on her. I also wish the gown was better designed to show off its lace fabric — I’d never recommend wearing the unlined runway version in public, but at least that style allows you to see the beauty and intricacy of the lacework pattern.

Speaking of soft blue-gray — look at Penelope Cruz looking fantastic in it! I like her shorter hairdo too. Very Sophia Loren.

Milla Jovovich’s look didn’t break new ground, but she’s very glamorous, and I think this post needs an example of someone wearing white without looking like she’s about to die of hypothermia.Using Fashion to Predict the Winners: I had read that women in gold gowns are statistically more likely to win Oscars than those wearing any other color, so as soon as I saw Meryl Streep’s gold lamé Lanvin, I started fearing for Viola Davis’ chances. Especially when the TV broadcast showed a picture of Meryl winning in 1982, for Sophie’s Choice, also wearing gold. I began to suspect that Streep chose to wear gold this year to make for attractive side-by-side comparison photos of her two Best Actress wins. Do you think she knew something we didn’t?

February 26, 2012: Beauty Spot

I woke up this morning with a pimple above my upper lip. Rather than cover it over with concealer as I normally would, I colored it in with a brown eyeliner pencil and am pretending it’s a beauty spot. It worked for Peppy Miller, it can work for me.

Despite my blog name, I’m not dressed up, nor am I going to any Oscar parties. I’m just sitting on my couch in jeans, spending a relaxing Sunday evening watching the Oscar ceremony. But I like knowing that I have this little tribute to the likely Best Picture winner on my face.

January 23, 2012: Lady Brett Ashley

Sweater: J. Crew

Skirt: Banana Republic, from Crossroads

Tights: Banana Republic

Shoes: Born, from Macy’s

Beret: Parkhurst, from a boutique in the Marina

I realize this is a somewhat eccentric outfit to wear to the office in the 21st century. Especially when I threw my “Margot Tenenbaum” coat over top (see, I told you I would wear it again):

Coat: vintage, from Goodwill

But after work, I went to a screening of Gilda at the Castro Theatre, part of the Noir City Film Festival, and I was in my element, among my people. I was far from the most eccentrically clad person there.  Some people were clad in head-to-toe vintage, seamed stockings, etc, and so many of the audience members (male and female) wore hats!

Not that my outfit really suited the mid-1940s time period of Gilda.  It takes inspiration from an even earlier decade — either ’20s or ’30s, I can’t decide.  It’s kind of Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and Clyde (1930s), though she wore her sweaters tighter.  But this kind of outfit is what I have always pictured the character of Lady Brett Ashley in The Sun Also Rises (1920s) wearing, based on Hemingway’s initial description of her:

She wore a slipover jersey sweater and a tweed skirt, and her hair was brushed back like a boy’s. She started all that. She was built with curves like the hull of a racing yacht, and you missed none of it with that wool jersey.

(So maybe Lady Brett also wore her sweaters tight? But I thought the 1920s fashion was for looser, tunic-like tops — skimming the curves, not hugging them.)

I got these high-heeled loafers last month. They look so characteristic of the entre-les-guerres period, but unlike vintage shoes, they actually fit my big feet and are comfortably constructed! I adore them so.

December 20, 2011: Good Year for Hunters and Christmas Parties

Top: Banana Republic

Skirt: Parameter, from Crossroads

Shoes: Naturalizer

Pearls: Cost Plus

I wore this to my office Christmas party on Tuesday. And to dinner and a play with my family on Christmas Eve. And (why not) back in November, to Thanksgiving dinner at a friend’s house.  This was my all-purpose holiday outfit of 2011, mixing inexpensive new pieces with old favorite accessories, playing with texture and pattern, spreading good cheer.

Happy holidays to all my readers! Did you put together a favorite holiday outfit this year?

December 3, 2011: Pink Lady

Top: H&M

Skirt: Odille, thrifted

Shoes: Naturalizer

Scarf (tied around ponytail): Yard sale

Earrings: Edition by Banana Republic

Lipstick: Revlon “Softsilver Rose”

Eyeliner: black, winged

Manicure-pedicure: OPI “Cozu-Melted In the Sun”

Diverse collection of influences here, though the end result is very 1950s. I had gotten my nails done in a super-girly, peachy-pink-glittery shade, and wanted an outfit to complement them. Plus, there’s my tried-and-true “dress to match the play you’re seeing” trick: on Saturday I went to see Ladies in Waiting, a trio of short plays by female writers, with a hot-pink poster. So I was thinking “pink,” and I was thinking “ladies” — femme, proper, ladylike. I was not specifically thinking of the Pink Ladies from Grease, but that’s what everyone else thought of when they saw me. Especially when I was wearing my leather jacket.

We had lovely warm weather last weekend, which enabled me to wear my peep-toe pumps and a skirt. I thought the black peep-toes would look too jarring if there wasn’t any black elsewhere in the outfit, so I chose a top with black trim. I then realized that I had a scarf that perfectly matched the outfit, and, having no better way to incorporate it, put my hair in a ponytail and tied the scarf around it.

I get most of my scarves at yard sales and thrift shops. Best way to build up a scarf collection on the cheap.

Does anyone else get a kick out of those Revlon lipstick colors that have probably had the same formula since the 1950s? I think “Softsilver Rose” is such a color.

October 31, 2011: Margot Tenenbaum

Coat: vintage, from Goodwill

Dress: made out of two Old Navy polo shirts

Loafers: Naturalizer, from Ross

Handbag: Liz Claiborne, from Crossroads

Barrettes: from Walgreens

Cigarette: bummed off a friend (I don’t smoke)

Fake finger: made from a brown paper bag

Makeup: black eyeliner, black mascara, nude lipstick

For several years, I’d threatened to dress up as Margot Tenenbaum (from The Royal Tenenbaums) for Halloween — she’s a playwright and we have the same haircut, so it was bound to transpire someday.  This year, I finally made it happen!

The polo dress was actually the most difficult part of the outfit — which surprised me, as it is a classic style and was quite popular about five years ago. But I must have visited a dozen different thrift stores without being able to find one. In the end, I had to whip one up myself. Old Navy had polo shirts on super-duper clearance (less than $5 each). I bought one that fit me and one that was several sizes too large, and used the fabric from the larger shirt to make a skirt.

The result is a little bit wonky (I had to do a kind of inverted pleat over the hips, which is why it looks bunched up) and my design skills are not going to get me on Project Runway any time soon, but hey, it was cheap and functional and now I have a polo dress!

I already had the loafers. The coat and purse were bought specifically for this costume but I know I can get use out of them again… yes, the coat is kind of ridiculous, but since when has that ever stopped me? (On my East Coast college campus, I became notorious for my vintage camel-colored big wool coat.) I wore it yesterday to wander around Pacific Heights and gawk at the mansions — it’s the perfect poor-little-rich-girl coat.

When you dress up like Margot Tenenbaum you really feel like a living cartoon character. Her look is a bizarre mixture of little girl and society grande dame, and while each individual element might be innocuous on its own, together they are delightfully strange.My Margot accessories: handbag, barrettes, cigarette, fake finger, and book. I thought that Sam Shepard plays would be Margot-appropriate reading material because she has a library of playscripts and spends most of the movie having an affair with a hot author of Western/cowboy novels. And Sam Shepard is the closest thing the theater world has to a hot cowboy playwright.

(I really should have framed the above photo in symmetrical Wes Anderson style and added a caption in Futura font, shouldn’t I?)

Also, there’s a Wes Anderson-themed art show up in San Francisco at Spoke Art — looks like I missed the opportunity to show up in my Margot costume to the opening on October 30 (I was frantically sewing my dress) but I will have to check it out later this month!

October 13, 2011: Hard Headed Woman

Blouse: H&M

Skirt: Gap, from Crossroads

Sandals: Naturalizer

Headband: from Ross

Makeup: black winged eyeliner and L’Oreal “True Red” lipstick

On Thursday I attended a staged reading of a new musical that took place in the mid-1950s and was about a family of country-music singers. The sons grow tired of singing religious and cowboy-themed songs and rebel against their tyrannical father by starting a rock-n-roll band. Knowing this, I decided to try a rockabilly-style outfit for the occasion.

You can’t see it in the photo, but the shirt actually has a tiny gingham check pattern, which adds to the country/rockabilly feel of the outfit. I think that the entire look could maybe use one or two more rockabilly accessories (red patent leather belt? leopard-print headband?) but I don’t want to turn it into a costume. I’m more interested in figuring out how to make elements of 1950s style work for a 21st-century office environment, than in being 100% historically accurate or in going for the kitschy/exaggerated look that is often associated with the modern rockabilly subculture.

“Queen of Rockabilly” Wanda Jackson sings “Hard Headed Woman”:

October 7, 2011: Networking

Blouse: Banana Republic, from Crossroads

Skirt: Banana Republic, from Crossroads

Boots: Seychelles

My flirtation with ’70s fashion isn’t limited to the romantic, hippie-influenced look of the early ’70s. I also like the chic, urban outfits that women wore to break the glass ceiling and join the workforce. Think Woody Allen, think Faye Dunaway in Network, think any ’70s movie that is set in New York City and features intelligent, upwardly mobile female characters.

Both pieces of my outfit are thrift-store Banana Republic, but I feel like the skirt is relatively new (made within the last 5 years) while the top is significantly older. It’s cut differently than clothes tend to be cut these days — higher armholes, shorter waist. And I love the printed silk jersey fabric, but can’t recall seeing new blouses in this material for sale at BR. I wish there were! (eye-catching print + figure-flattering knit fabric + demure tailoring = one happy fashion blogger.)

Worn to a staged reading of a friend’s play that was a riff on 1970s cop movies like Dirty Harry. I am not as fanatical as I was last year about matching my outfit to the play that I’m seeing, but it’s fun to do on occasion.

October 1, 2011: The Dew On Their Hems

Gown: BCBG Max Azria, from Loehmann’s

Sandals: Nine West

Earrings: Edition by Banana Republic

They lay down beside me, I made my confession to them
They touched both my eyes, and I touched the dew on their hems
If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn
They will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem

–Leonard Cohen, “Sisters of Mercy”

Such a gorgeous quatrain from Mr. Cohen. And a gorgeous gown from Mr. Azria (with an assist from Mr. Loehmann).

Recently, I’ve become interested in exploring 1970s fashions. I’m particularly drawn to the late-’60s-early-’70s era when the hippie influence trickled down into the wider world of fashion and resulted in vintage or peasant-inspired styles.  These floaty, romantic dresses turned women into ethereal beings, rather than “dirty hippies.” They could be worn to a debutante ball or a society wedding and not raise any eyebrows, but were still fashion-forward. The popularity of the The Virgin Suicides film among young fashionistas shows that the appeal of this style will not vanish any time soon.

My dress here is a modern piece, but in my opinion, it just screams 1970: the maxi length, the sheer silk gauze, the lace embellishment.  Astonishingly, I found it on sale at Loehmann’s for $30, and I had an event coming up that I knew it would be perfect for. Though maybe it looks a bit bridal (indeed, several people at the party told me “You could wear that dress to your wedding”), I think that my big platform sandals help ground the look. And reinforce the ’70s theme, of course.

Detail of the shoes and hem: