Dispatch #20: Persephone Would Be (Dis)Pleased

A trend--wow, it'll get in your bloodstream

Patrick is out of town for a week, so I’m a ragged husk of a parent. I miss my husband, his conversation (and his cooking!), and I miss having another adult in the room. I have yelled (more like SCREAMED) at my kids, and been harried and irritable, but I’ve also had really sweet and tender moments with them that somehow feel more sweet and tender because I’m the only parent around to witness and absorb my kids’ presence and spirit. Last night, all three kids were playing a game together while I cleaned up dinner. Ginger was her mean Boss Lady character, and Mickey had a purse on, and they were calling him Jennifer, and Bean was some kind of beast beneath a blanket grabbing Jennifer’s legs while Boss Lady tried to rescue them both. They were screaming and laughing, (occasionally crying), and despite the chaos I was able to appreciate it and them. Kids are cool!

Yesterday afternoon I saw a woman reading Kyle Chayka’s terrific book, The Longing for Less: Living with Minimalism. Kyle is my “internet friend” (we go way back—to the Tumblr days!) and so when I asked if I could take a photo of her for Kyle, my voice cracked with disuse; I realized I hadn’t spoken to anyone since I dropped off the kids hours before.

This woman and her boyfriend were so stylish and sexy. I think I warbled something like, “The writer will be happy about how fashionable you are.”

What a weird thing to say.

Her whole look got me thinking about fashion in general, though. Time for a newsletter revisit on this topic!

When Patrick and I were new to dating, I told Patrick that seasons weren’t about weather, but fashion. (Spoken like a true Angeleno, for whom a coat is merely a cute look.)

Patrick said something like, “Persephone would be pleased.” Or maybe he said, “Persephone would be displeased.”

Either way, what a reply! There was no way I couldn’t marry him.

Anyway. Fashion. What I’ve been jonesing for.

Over two and a half years ago, in the parking lot after seeing Greta Gerwig’s “Little Women,” my friend Laura and I gushed about the movie. The structure! the acting! And how we loved Jo March’s vests. Rakish! Badass! Sexy!

Since then, I’ve wanted a vest, and lately, with the fall season upon us, I’ve really been wanting one.

Alex Mill has this amazing three-piece suit: pants, vest (worn as a shirt), and a blazer. I’d wear it and feel like Annie Hall (after I’ve torn off my tie):

But, let’s be honest, am I really going to wear this? Imagine me, rolling up to anything—school pick-up, a cafe, a dinner out—dressed like Jo March or Annie Hall or some kind of Graham Greene character.

It’s okay if you’re laughing. So am I. I could not pull this off!

(Also, with short hair it feels too masculine (for me). I love a mix of the girly and boyish in my look, and since I have the pixie cut right now, there’s a lot of floral print going on in my life.)

I did buy this 100% linen button down shirt in a gorgeous shade of pink. Do I already have a pink button down? Why, yes I do! But of course the cut and vibe are entirely different. And of course I need both!

I assume we all buy a variation of a clothing item again and again, often without realizing the repetition. I will always pause at a shirt like this one, even though I already have a couple of its cousins in my closet. (Oh but how I wish I had this expensive cousin!)

Similarly, I have a long Boden dress in a bold floral pattern; six months later, I ordered a second one in a different pattern—and then returned it because I don’t need two of these dresses. And now I wish I had a compelling reason to buy this version.

I’ve got FOUR pairs of high waisted Levi’s and yet I am always thinking, “What kind of Levi’s should I get to CHANGE MY LIFE?” I know they’re out there.

(Though maybe my latest—these black ones—are IT.)

A new thing for me are these linen tank tops from Mango—currently on sale, btw. I have the black one, the cream colored one…and the blue one is en route. I love that the tops are loose and sort of see-through, and easy yet elegant (in my mind, at least; please don’t disabuse me of this fantasy of myself as elegant). I pair one with my black jeans and call it my summer uniform.

Related to these linen babies: I’ve been thinking about tank tops. (Did you notice the person reading Kyle’s book has one on?!) I’m craving them, and I’ve been thinking about Jennifer Lawrence’s red Baywatch-Bathing-Suit-as-a-Ballgown at one of her first big awards shows:

image by Jeffrey Mayer (that I screenshot on my phone because I’m classy)

In 2022, I’d style Jen’s hair differently, but I am still here for the dress, and very into the red, and I also wish I had this dress as a tank-top.

Someone find me the perfect red tank!

(My luck, I’d wear it to Target and someone would say, “Excuse me, what aisle can I find the toilet paper?”)

The same week I was thinking about tank tops, I read this piece about the undershirt’s returning popularity the New York Times. No surprise, my seemingly self-motivated interest in tank tops was actually orchestrated by Big Fashion. A trend—wow, it’ll get into your bloodstream. I wrote about this in my last fashion-related missive:

I love how fashion is yet another reminder that I cannot escape culture, that I’m in fact swimming in it, even when I don’t realize it. Some of this is because the powers-that-be are deciding what’s trendy (never forget Miranda Priestly on cerulean blue!) Some of it, though, is some other weird humanity osmosis/alchemy.

Clothing inspiration doesn’t wholly spring from your own imagination unless you’re 1) a fashion artist/designer, or, 2) Bjork.

Another outfit I’ve been thinking about—

Madonna in the Papa Don’t Preach video. It’s perfect: the smoky eye, the brushed-forward, tousled hair, THE SHIRT, the black pants and belt.

Should I wear this for Halloween? (Who am I kidding? I’ve got red lipstick and a witch hat that haven’t let me down since 2015.) Maybe I’ll find the T-shirt somewhere, though and wear it as a wink-wink homage.

(Sidebar: The amount of time I spent thinking about Madonna in elementary school is staggering. I listened to her albums, read her unauthorized biography, pored over all the CD sleeves, and watched her videos on TV and on my stepdad’s laser disc player. I obsessed about her mole (was it real?!), if she was going to ever have a baby, and about the nude pictures she took pre-fame, the ones with the cat. Even now, Patrick and I discuss “Papa Don’t Preach”—are we meant to trust the baby daddy, or are we, the listener, meant to feel the same as Papa and her friends do? Hmmm.)

Anyone else wish Madonna had allowed herself to age so we could have a real post-menopausal music icon? Sigh.

Writing this has me thinking about how much I value the fantasy of fashion, and the way outfits talk to other outfits we’ve seen around town, on screen or online, or in our childhood memories. I like how the fantasies hit the constraints of our day-to-day lives, and what’s comfortable, on our bodies and in our psyches, what feels like us. I guess I try to push the boundary as much as I can without feeling like a fool.

Okay, that’s it, off to revise part four of the novel.

But first, tell me: What are you wearing?

xoxo
Edan

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