Perfume

“He who ruled scent ruled the hearts of men.”

― Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

Tell me about yourself. What scents give you the blues and what do you smell like in the morning after a warm shower? Do you choose your soaps and perfumes carefully at a counter in a department store? Or online after browsing several long descriptions? Or do you merely sweep bars of Irish Spring into your cart from grocery store shelves on Sunday afternoons?

I am guilty of the sweeping part, although I find myself inundated with perfume gifts all the time. After 4 years, though, my free bottle of Juicy Couture has finally run dry, sending me on a sniffing trail for my next scent. Usually, I smell strongly of pine needles in a forest (intermixed with Juicy's sweet notes), but I would like something more...distinguished and classier than that. I want my own signature scent, like a lady!

Because even though smelling like one particular thing might seem boring, people's memories are tied to smells and I'd like to be remembered in unexpected times. I had a teacher in middle school, for example, who wore this incredible musky perfume. Many years later, that same scent wafted to my nose while I was in line at a Target three states away, and I involuntarily looked around for her. I want to give someone else the same whiplash I experienced in Target that night.

Lady Gaga's new perfume, "Fame," will likely have that effect on people, described as the "tears of belladonna, crushed heart of tiger orchidea with a black veil of incense, pulverized apricot and the combinative essences of saffron and honey drops," all contained in a metal bottle (ingenious I tell you!). Yes, it probably just smells like sweet licorice, but if anything embodies her, it's licorice and pulverized apricots. ((Also, have you seen the bottle? (it's not metal, but perhaps this isn't the only edition.))

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Often, celebrities use perfumes as an extensions of their images, which in turn, insinuate themselves in our memories and everyday associations. I think we should alter our own scents to be extensions of who we think we are and would like to be, too.

So here is what the ideal me would smell like: Rain-wet picture books, Lothlórien forest wood, Miltonic angels and rose petals, all soaking in a bottle of prickly stems and leaves.

Or ya know, maybe just like plain ol' jasmine.

I'll show myself out now.

Fashion and Space(s)

Close your eyes for a moment and think about all the floral prints you've bought over the past three years. Consider those large-scale flowers (ones rarely seen in nature) blooming against the neutral background on your favorite dress. And what about the architecture of a shirt you recently purchased, a halter with straps cutting across your shoulder blades? What I mean is, do bias cuts or nature prints have any meaning beyond an aesthetic one to you?

Maybe not, but the trends we wear often reflect our culture's views of the environment. What are those views today for consumers in the United States? I'm not so sure. But it seems I can find only the most ideal parts of city and country in popular clothing chains, lately (like shoulder-padded blazers overgrown with vines). The city is often coded as "objective [and] male," reflected in tailoring and structure, while the country is "subjective, female...ideal," manifest in patterns and prints, according to critic, Lucy Lippard. City and country have been at odds for ages, since the dawn of industry and close knit communities, but these days, it's pretty clear that fashion has successfully blended the two; still, the grittiness of the great outdoors evades us:

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These days, we wear cute, small-scale animals on our bodies instead of rugged animal skins. I can't remember the last time I saw someone wearing a wolf shirt, a head scarf, or mud-colored fatigues. (Side note: I was all over fatigues when Destiny's Child's 'Soldier' came out): 

Even the paisleys prints of the '70s seemed a bit more down-to-earth and realistic than the clothes currently in style. Nowadays, we've nothing but carnations, roses, and other petaled confections all over our shirts. Oh yes, and galaxy prints.

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In a way, I think fashion is so escapist lately because we want to numb ourselves to the harsh realities of soaring student loan debt, unemployment, and general disillusionment. And while we certainly look as great as ever (like modern Monet portraits, even) I'd venture to say that we'd do better to keep in touch with grittiness every once in awhile. 

I'm Dreaming of Jeannie

Sheer skirts (and tops) are my favorite re-emerging trend of the spring/summer season. The hanging fabric from the skirts does appear non-committal at times, but the sheerness is deliberately sensual, with a hint of magic....very I Dream of Jeannie-esque.

Armani, 2008

Brooklyn Decker 2012

Rosie Huntingdon, 2011

Cloud Nine 9, 2012

Jelly Sandals: A Love Story

I grew up in inner city Baltimore during the mid-90s, when glass hair "ballies," sectioned ponytails, and "jelly" sandals reigned supreme. I remember one of the first times I really noticed those plastic, transparent shoes on the feet of one of the most popular girls in my class: she'd paired them (or her mother had) with the cutest jean jackets and sunflower print dresses. And of course, those jelly sandals matched every effin' outfit. 

One summer afternoon while my mom and I were in Sears, I asked her to buy me a pair, but she was all, "you'll step on [drug] needles wearing those." And so I had to resign myself to voyeurism, looking on as my friends played tag in their jellies--they even had the ones with glitter inside the straps! Life wasn't fair :-/

Jellies went out of style for awhile after elementary school (at least, for people my age). When I entered middle school, in fact, bragging about one's "butters" [Timbaland boots] became the norm. I guess we all had kind of outgrown those fragile shoes, wanting more durable ones to establish some sense of status in our little social spheres, perhaps. 

Just when the memory of jelly sandals was fading from my mind, I saw a yellow pair dangling from a shelf in Aeropostale, the other day. Then I spotted some green ones in Aldo. (It was then that I wanted to give the merchandisers the highest of fives for bringing these shoes back in style). Instead of the squishy soles of our youth, plastic sandals are now reinforced with hard bottoms--totally upcycled if you ask me.

And so, the love story between me and these sandals is nearing its culmination; I plan to wear them on a sun-bleached sidewalk somewhere in the middle of a city summer :-)

Top Wardrobes in Film

I have a recurring fantasy in which I enter a room at a party and stun everyone with my beauty-- you know, like the heroines do in the movies.

Moments like these are celebrated in fashion magazines all over the world; however, there's something to be said for unexpected looks--the styles that may not smolder off the screen and find their way into our literature, but which still manage to leave an impression anyway.

Here are my (not-quite-so-obvious) favorite styles in film:

Frida (2002)

A coronet of hair paired with a menswear suit? Check! A tomato colored scarf draped over the greenest of dresses? You got it.  In this fascinating biopic, Frida Kahlo (played by Salma Hayek) wears whatever she wants and it all looks great. Sure, her wardrobe doesn't always make sense to the eye, but its refreshing blend of influences--- folkish, modern, and somewhat masculine, give the film a surreal feeling. And just look at that bundle of flowers growing from her hair. You wish you had fresh blooms lying around to tuck in yours (well, I do).

Laugh, Clown, Laugh (1928)

Long before there were any black swans, there lived the innocent Simonetta (played by Loretta Young). In this silent classic, she traipses about in tulle and satin, courted by her, er, adopted dad, Lon Chaney. Throughout the film, her hair is appropriately poufy and her eyeshadow, smeared in the flapper style. Running away with the circus never looked so appealing.

Sabrina (1954)

Audrey Hepburn's classically gamine style is no more stunning than in this mid-20th century film. Here, we witness her evolution from mere ponytail wearer to Paris-educated sylph. Admittedly, Hepburn is equally stylish in Roman Holiday, but Sabrina's aesthetic seems less forced.

The French Lieutenant's Woman (1981)

Don't even lie to yourself: Meryl Streep is a pure BAMF here, perpetual somber face and all. Take a quick gander at those frizzy, Pre-Raphaelite curls in the trailer below. And then envy her 1980s razor bob as the scenes alternate between centuries.

Poetic Justice (1993)

Back in the 1990s, I aspired to look like Janet Jackson, mid-back length braids, belly shirt, and all. Even now in 2012, I imagine my best-looking self with long ropes of hair. The Poetic Justice style remains popular (re Solange), because braids are timeless. They might change in thickness or length, but are always chic.

An Affair to Remember (1957)

Deborah Kerr is utterly first-world in every frame of An Affair to Remember. Because of this, I couldn't muster up much sympathy for her, while watching. Maybe I would have if she didn't own such an awesome fur stole.

The Philadelphia Story (1940)

Kate Hepburn wore menswear before Diane Keaton made it popular in the 1970s (and I guess Marlene Dietrich made it popular before anyone, but that's beside the point). In Bringing up Baby, Hepburn's smart, tailored dresses offer a glimpse of the things to come for women-- mainly shoulder pads, neckties, and a certain androgynous swagger.

An American in Paris (1951)

The 1950s was famous for its high fashion musicals (re Funny Face). I may or may not prefer this one because of Gene Kelly's overall attractiveness over Fred Astaire's. Really though, it's because the clothes are buoyant and fun, much like the (highly improbable) plot.

The 500 Days of Summer (2009)

And so, I end my short list with a deliciously hipster film. In the 500 Days of Summer, Zoey Deschanel is a modern muse, wearing a mix of trends from the last few decades. She exudes a devil-may-care attitude, manifest in strappy summer dresses, faux pearls, and distressed short-shorts. Of course I love her for it.

Some honorable mentions:
Undercurrent (1946)
The Little Mermaid (1989)
Vertigo (1958)
La Dolce Vita (1960)
Daughters of the Dust (1991)

All images provided via google.

Jenny Packham

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Jenny Packham’s 2012 designs range from tangy, orange dresses to taupe jumpsuits. Some have criticized her aesthetic for being too sweet. To me, her collections simply have an energetic point of view--one that alternates between feminine indulgence and restraint.

Her spring collection, full of breezy fabrics, celebrates womanhood—and that flute of bone that looks good on every body type. Here, the materials flow in universally appealing shapes.

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In her fall collection, she does not abandon these fabrics, but restrains their silhouettes. Worn on lip-lined, pompadour-ed models, her fall clothes have a severe subtext. They are still sweet, yet also powerful, with a distinct wartime sensibility. Through both collections, Packham touches upon a multitude of fashion influences--including 1940s noir, Victorian Gothicism, and Lisa Frank.

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Packham’s aesthetic touches my heart.

As Sarah Joynt writes, her fall collection is a “story of shoulders.”

Certainly, shoulders never looked so good.

My Favorite Color

Don't pretend like gray isn't your favorite color. And if it isn't, it should be.

I wasn't always wise enough to appreciate the many shades of gray--cream pearlescence, metallic silver, charcoal, granite.... 

Over the years, in fact, I've experimented with colors on all sides of the wheel. In elementary school, I dressed my Kellys in dark purple because pink was too mainstream. Then I adored teal for awhile, because, what soulless person doesn't like teal? Somewhere in there, I swore my love to marigold. 

Anyway, after many years of soul searching and contemplation, I decided, one day, that my favorite color was gray. And so far, no hue has surpassed it yet--not okra, turquoise, or even navy blue.

Because whenever I wear slim, gray jeans, or a slate gray dress, I feel like a cloud.

Or a statue.

Or a foggy morning ;-)

In gray, I'm a shapeshifter---versatile, modest, and even quietly stunning on occasion.

InStyle Magazine, April 2012.

As we've seen from this year's runway and award shows, white, black, and red are en vogue, as they usually are and should be.

But let's not overlook the beauty of a light gray dress.

Jenny Packham, Fall 2012 (via)

What's your favorite color?

A color wheel