September 24, 2012 § 8 Comments
It wasn’t until I met my biological sister that I realized my boobs were a genetic component to the makeup of me. Before then I’d assumed they were a terrible mistake meant to be placed above someone else’s heart.
But within the last year (or so) I’ve come to grips with what God gave me (thanks to my sister and the way she wears hers gorgeously) and I’m starting to kind of like them. I wish they’d stand up without help, but I don’t hate them like I did.
Last night’s Emmys red carpet was a bosom baring display.
One after another busty girls allowed their flesh to peek out from the beneath most dazzling dresses.
I felt a kinship.
Femininity in fashion never looked prettier.
But many on Twitter didn’t feel the same.
A barrage of nasty tweets proclaimed the look tacky and cheap, trying too hard and pathetic. The disdain for what I viewed as fashion risk taking (I do consider it a risk) combined with body acceptance was a disappointment.
So why all the fuss?
There were plenty of legs showing, too. And backs. And shoulders. And low cut dresses on flatter chested girls.
I don’t have an answer on this. I can’t explain why there was so much backlash, though I bet it has something to do with the new female empowerment or some sort of hatred toward women or the whole mother prostitute thingy. I don’t write about that stuff. I don’t think I’m deep enough.
I liked all the boobs.
I liked Heidi showing all that leg, though I wasn’t crazy about the dress.
I liked Ginnifer Goodwin’s choice not to show very much at all in that unbelievable red and nude flowered Monique Lhullier.
I liked that each woman chose the image that she wanted to project for the night.
As for the girls who put their girls on display.
I think you looked lovely (and not in a sexy vroom vroom kind of way).
Just plain lovely.
What did you think about the dresses? Did the boobs bother you? Have a favorite I didn’t mention?
May 17, 2012 § 7 Comments
A few years back I decided I’d try a maxi dress. I found a great one at Forever 21 that cost next to nothing. It was stretchy and comfortable and cool (in both style and temperature), slim to the knee and finished with a two foot gathered hem, which spoke loudly to my inner Mother Earth.
But as happens when I take fashion risks, I got it home, tried it on, and lost my nerve. The rules for an apple-shaped girl with boobs and skinny legs screamed, “NO!”
Fitted is what works. Tent like is tough, so back it went (and fast).
With the resurgence of warm weather the maxi dressed mammas have re-appeared. They are at pre-school and the grocery store, walking down the street and playing in the park. I eye them with a mix of envy for their ability to pull of the fashion risk and hope that I might find one (one day) for my frame that would allow me to play in the game.
There’s a bunch that I like that I’ve seen and so I’ll dip my toe into maxi-million territory by posting some of my favorites.
Who knows, though? With all of the evolving that’s been going on lately, a maxi dress just might act as the finishing piece to not only round out the warm weathered wardrobe, but be the catalyst for a summer of self acceptance (I will like myself in this tent, I will like myself in this tent).
The more I think about it, the better it sounds.
May 8, 2012 § 3 Comments
In the fall of 1994 I was in art school studying fashion. I took classes in draping and pattern making, figure drawing, flats and specs, costume design and history of fashion, just to name a few.
One day I mosied into class where my teacher had set up a television and VCR.
I remember exactly what I was wearing that day, as I do for every important event in my life; a Betsey Johnson flowered jump suit with belled legs, green clogs and a short bolero sweater that wrapped high around my waist. My hair was cut in that pixie way and it was platinum blonde. I once was quite the risk taker.
Galliano, Fall 1994 began to play.
It was the first time that I was spellbound by a show. My physical reaction was a mix of surprise, wonder and heart palpatating excitement. Tears welled up in my eyes, the emotion was pure joy.
Fashion as art; art as fashion.
This morning I logged onto the computer and learned that last night was the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Gala. I’m so out of the loop, I didn’t even see it coming.
The Met Gala is the fashion equivalent to The Oscars. The risk taking and beauty of the fashion choices leave me with bated breath like Galliano’s hoop skirts did that day in the second floor classroom on New Montgomery, downtown San Francisco.
Unlike the Oscars, the choices are not always safe. Personality is more appreciated as evident in Sarah Jessica Parker’s Valentino choice and Diane Kruger’s Purple Prada, Coco Rochas’ vintage jumpsuit and Alicia Keys’ harem tux.
My smile is wide this morning, my heart has skipped a few beats and the energy from the artistry has left me charged. I love fashion for it’s ability to do this to me.
What is art to you? Who are some of your favorite artists, in fashion or life?