Good morning, Tuesday. I so enjoyed writing that post about my fear of power dressing and "wear to work" spielkes that I began thinking about some other style issues that make me feel neurotic- the biggie for me? Dressing up. Oy. I hate dressing up. It makes me nauseous. i'm allergic.
You all know I love clothes. LOVE THEM. But I love comfortable clothes and casual clothes. I love shapeless things, shifty things, denim things, soft and silky things, elastic waisted things. But nowhere in my style contract is there anything about "cocktail", "black tie" or "dress to impress". In fact, I have a rider against it. Though many ignore it.
I don't know what it is really- some combination of a fear and hatred of objectification and not wanting to grow up perhaps. But I panic and shut down when it comes to formal occasions. In the words of the White Stripes, "I just don't know what to do with myself". Truer words have never been spoken. I've never been a fan of Cinderella. Ever.
I've tried it all mind you, and I've been to many events. I have many LBDs and they're fine. But I prefer to wear them to lunch, dinner, anything other than a stupid black tie event. Recently, I attended one of my dear friend's daughter's bat mitzvah, and wore my favorite Malia Mills jumpsuit. It's fabulous and I wear it casually with my Vans slides most of the time. But on this occasion I chose to wear it with my gold Chelsea boots from Topshop. To give it a little rock and roll Bowie vibe- I also rocked gobs and gobs of pearls and chains to give it a more dressed up feel. It looked good I suppose, though don't think I didn't bring reinforcements- a ribbed Elizabeth and James minidress with trumpet sleeves and a crew neck, and an excellent Opening Ceremony mini dress with a V neck and mesh sleeves that felt a bit too clubby. Fabulous, but not right. Oh and as you know, all choices were black. Natch.
So off I went, in my black faux fur jacket, black jumpsuit, gold boots, and a red lip. I've had worse looks. Like the time I went to a party for another bar mitzvah and made the mistake of having my makeup done. Needless to say, contour is not my jam. Holy harsh lines. I looked cray.
But as soon as I got to the party, I felt wrong. Like Gong Show wrong. Because all the ladies were in party dresses, and by party dresses, I mean full skirts with sky high heels. That or black dresses that were structured and tight and ruched and in more formal fabrics than either of the other choices i had with me. Strike out. Well, not exactly. I know what I had on was nice, I just felt out of place. I always always always feel out of place dressing up. It's not my thing. Perhaps that's why I eloped. I like simple clothes. I don't believe in occasion dressing. I hate costume parties. You get my drift. I just wanna be me. I didn't even go to either of my proms because I dreaded the dress. I swear it's true. I ended up going to a punk show on the night of my junior prom in ripped jeans and patent brogues because that was more my style. And I'm not cool enough to be the girl who wears ripped jeans and patent brogues to the prom ps. Because I hate to be the center of attention. That's the deal.
And after all these years and all those parties, I should have it down by now. A go to look that I love for a party or special occasion thingy wingy. I should just get a custom black suit (with pants) and be done with it. As I age, I suspect I'll end up in a caftan of some kind, but I'm still at a loss to get it right for dressy days and nights. What's even funnier is my dude is the same. Watching him squirm in a suit feels reminiscent of childhood. We both would much rather do something chill, and we both feel weird all done up.Constricted and conflicted.
Do I love to wear gobs of jewelry and faux fur and leather on say, a Sunday morning? Sure I do. Will I wear a lace dress with slides and a denim jacket in the Summer time? Of course I will. Will I rock a sky high heel with jeans and a blazer? Yea. Well not as much the heels but I do love that look. But don't tell me to get dressed up. Because I hate a dress code. I think that's the biggest thing. My rebellious little soul does not like to be told what to wear. And though it's more loose than it's ever been, I still hate it. Much as I would hate getting dressed for the C Suite. I'm good if you invite me to a dinner party or night out at a bar somewhere. Marginally. Still stresses me out somehow.
Cause that's what's up this neurosis is the new black kind of Tuesday in the 212. Yours, in (not) dressing to impress. XO