Can A Plus Size Woman Dress High WASP?

If finding clothes to support a High WASP style can be difficult for all of us, it is even more frustrating for those in plus sizes. High WASP clothing style is characterized by respect for the social context, clean lines, classic proportions, high quality materials, and subtle, original details. Plus size fashion? Not so much.

But Queen Victoria, who ushered in the era of the High WASP in America, was herself plus size. We cannot let an entire segment of the deserving populace go unserved. Those who wish to follow this aesthetic should be allowed to do so. However, I can say that all I wish, and if the resources are not available it's an empty statement.

So I went hunting. Some general observations. First, the industry does not, very often, show plus size fashion on plus size people. No surprise there, I suppose. They don't show standard fashion on standard people. But those in the standard segment have many, many retail outlets at which to translate photos of 5'10" women who weigh 110 pounds wearing photoshopped dresses into actual selves in actual dresses. Plus size? Not so much. Hard to find large quantities of plus size clothing assembled anywhere a High WASP would be happy shopping.

Second, I am puzzled as to why the industry assumes that plus size women prefer what appear to be, to High WASP eyes, undignified colors and patterns. We don't wear bright lavender much, nor dusty rose in shiny fabrics. We don't like large, irregular patterns with a lot of white space. Perhaps, as has been suggested, the assumption is that the plus size demographic has a culturally determined, and different, aesthetic.

Third, I am guessing that the rule for dignified clothing choices is universal. Your clothing should treat you well. The part of your body that most pleases you? Show it off. Have a defined waist line? Define it, then. A nice line to your legs? Underline them. I could be a little off base. But the high level principle of approaching style with affection for one's being cannot be wholly wrong.

No matter. What does matter, if you suffer from the High WASP allergy to over-ornamentation, large prints, and colors not found in nature, is what you can find to wear. Let me quite humbly submit my suggestions. For casual wear, from Artsy Cousin, (in her urban, black-is-queen guise) to the Sturdy Gal, (quite happy in khakis and a soft t-shirt), to the Grande Dame (never in jeans without heels).

High WASP Casual Plus Size by High WASP featuring Christian Louboutin shoes

Items in this set:
Coats & Jackets - Workwear - evans, 50 GBP
DKNY Jeans - Plus Size Soho Bootcut in Rinse 32 (Rinse) - Apparel, $63
Le pull en maille fine Sara Lindholm, col rond
Le chemisier imprimé fleurs
Christian louboutin shoes, 375 GBP

I include the item list because in this case, while you may understand the idea of High WASP style, actually implementing it is a problem. And what showing the list makes clear is that one may have to go to Europe to find what one is looking for. And even learn how to speak French. I'm still trying to figure out if any of these sites ship to the USA.

Moving on to the office. Did any of you watch Drop Dead Diva? I didn't much like the show, writing was too sentimental for my astringent soul, but found the star's clothing to be spot on. And have looked here for work wear in that vein.

High WASP Workwear Plus Size by High WASP featuring Christian Louboutin shoes

Items in this set:
La veste stretch, idéale pour le bureau ou la ville
Calogera Suit (2 Piece) by Marina Rinaldi - LaGrandeDame.com
3/4 Sleeve Boat Neck Knit Dress by Melissa Masse - LaGrandeDame.com
Christian Louboutin Simple 70 leather pumps, $595
Salvatore Ferragamo Varina Ballet Flat, $215

The High WASP credo, "Good bag, good shoes, good look!" does not change when we enter the plus size realm. And that Brooks Brothers bag? $350. I haven't seen it in real life, but it appears that The Brothers are right in there with Talbots for mid-range, well-designed bags this year.

And finally, dressing up plus size. I have only one thing to say. They don't call her Queen for nothing.



A shade of lavender that might be found in many a well-proportioned English garden. Simple but rich ornamentation, not too geometric, not too anthropomorphic. (Really, Charlize, what were you thinking? No matter how svelte, how tall, how golden of skin, we do not wear rosettes that look like bosom targets. Don't even get me started on Carla Bruni. My pique is not caused by any general fear of breasts, I promise. Dignity and respect for a bone fide social context has nothing to do with body type.)

And now to you. Perhaps you know more than I in this area. Please share, if you will. Goodwill and navy blue to all.

Why I Didn't Buy The Gorgeous Chanel Jacket

I read, on the blog Rock the Silver, a post distinguishing between Hunter and Gatherer shoppers. Hunting means searching for a certain item, with focus. Gathering, means, well, gathering. Whatever you happen to find. How about you? I find that some things I hunt, other things I gather. Take, for example, shopping and hair days.

This Saturday, I went to San Francisco to get highlights and a haircut, browse (the modern word for gathering) Gumps for pearls and Murano glass, and hunt for khakis. On my way up Highway 101, I got the call that my guy had called in sick. Too late to turn around. I could have let the news wreck my day. But why?

I got to the city. Turns out the salon had moved to a larger space. Noisier. I could have let that wreck my day too. But why? So someone else cut my hair. In the noisy space. It was fine. I was elated, with swingy hair. I recommend glazes, by the way, for a little extra shine.

Then I ate lunch. At a place where you pay huge sums of money to get exactly what you want. That's their menu above. Just taking a breath costs $6.50. Eating is more. I had swiss chard with roast tomato aoli.

And mussels in cream.

Oh my god.

I ate them in the kind of reverent hurry that good food deserves. Sat back, wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin, almost humming with happiness. Then I went shopping. Sort of. I browsed Gump's pearls. They are so gorgeous that just looking satisfies my cravings. I don't need more pearls in my life. Then I asked a saleswoman about the Murano glass doves. They don't carry them in the store. I could have let that wreck my day. But why?

Back out on the streets of San Francisco, hunting for khaki. Gap has abandoned their heritage. And besides, the store in downtown smells of retail death. I skedaddled. Banana Republic, despite their signs that say, "Live In Chinos," has stretch khakis only.

I do not want my khakis to stretch. Dress pants, good jeans, yes, please stretch, for optimum fitting and corralling of various body parts. For casual clothes I want the obdurate fit of woven cotton. Unmoving around my hips and baggy on the legs. In fact, I want to channel Katherine Hepburn, in disciplined khakis and a white shirt. Confidence, insouciance. Stretch pants are perfect when perfect, but terrifying in failure. They optimize, but they also shift, anxiously, they crawl into places they don't belong. One could not fight off crocodiles in stretch pants.

I happened, finally, upon the Chanel boutique. Oh my god.

A gorgeous navy tweed jacket in the window. Classic shape, minimal fringe. (I'd show it to you, but apparently it was too special to have its picture taken.) I've been wanting to replace my old black and white houndstooth for ages. So I girded my loins and reapplied my lipstick. Even High WASPs have to reapply lipstick when entering a Chanel boutique. Especially if we know we probably won't buy anything. (Remember, you just have to look as though you could, even if it's only a look in your eyes.) The saleswoman informed me, with a certain glee, that my size was sold out. All across America, apparently. The gray version of the same jacket was lovely, and could be mine for approximately $5500. I say approximately, because after the number 5 I heard no more.

Were I still a visible executive, I'd have bought it. I'm a big believer in spending for beauty and impact. But this would have hung in my closet for decades, worn 3 times/year. Beauty, no impact.

I walked back to my car, drove home. Beautiful day. No rain. The sun shone on San Francisco bay in that way we almost take for granted. So much twinkling, so much slate blue. I walked in my front door, opened my laptop, got online, ordered the Murano doves. They remind me of a gold glass bird we had when I was growing up. I'm in the mood for whimsy. Researched Eddie Bauer (at Mrs. Lynch's recommendation, thank you) and L.L. Bean khakis. Bean's are stretchless. Ordered a pair for $39.50. Save money where you can, spend where it matters, abstain altogether from unnecessary purchases. Isn't the Internet a great shopping safety net?

It was a good outing. Hunting for clothes, gathering time, seizing the day. I'll let you know how the khakis turn out. What looks like Katherine Hepburn in one's mind can turn out dowdy in person. Then you have to don your pith helmet and head back out.

How NOT To Buy A Statement Piece

Go to Wilkes Bashford at the Stanford Shopping Center, one day when you are feeling the full force of years of self-denial. Go when you are newly promoted to vice president. Go with a friend who has been an executive for years. Try on a suit from Kiton. White. Cashmere. It will fit you perfectly.


Pay the very deferential salesperson, who says you look great, and you will, $5,000. Take the suit home. Put it in your closet. And say, "Goodbye, beautiful skirted suit." Because you will never wear this out the door. Despite the beautiful details, the softness, the apparent kinship with warm clouds and snow that do not exist in nature.

Because a white cashmere skirt suit, is, for all intents and purposes, a Swiffer. A lovely Swiffer, but a Swiffer. There's only so much dust that any one woman wants to attract in her lifetime and the great big dirty world is a pretty dusty place.

I probably made my closet very happy. Let's look on the bright side.

No! Not Again!

I did these the first time. I am not doing them again.

Even though the day I met my best friend I was wearing houndstooth leggings, wheeling my daughter in a stroller, and carrying my son in a front pack. I am telling you, I am NOT doing these again. And you can't make me. Not even if they look like cool old British book endpapers.

Don't even try.

Oh. Wait. I'm 52. You don't WANT me to do this trend again. My apologies. Carry on. And no, this has nothing to do with delayed gratification except that distractions are common during delays. Carry on.

Images: via Couture Carrie

Apparently Navy Is Now "Indigo"

Retrogurl at nitro.licious posts this announcement from Lancome.

Yesterday in Paris, the Lancôme makeup team unveiled their latest fall 2009 color collection, Declaring Indigo. Created by Lancôme artistic director for makeup, Aaron De Mey, this collection celebrates Paris in all its vibrancy. Aaron chose shades that represent the glamour, the energy and the passion of Paris—indigo blue, bright red and luxurious gold.

Apparently navy blue, here in the "indigo" incarnation, is tres now. It's even being declared. You see, when you have the same style all your life once a decade you become moderately fashionable.

Apparently one can even pre-order a makeup bag with navy blue brushes. Excuse me, I mean indigo.

Just when I was ready to move on to khaki. Sigh.

Wearing White Before Ever

Mel and Cricket have both mused this week about wearing white before Memorial Day. Let me say this. I can find no record at all of this rule's origin. Let me now also say this. Wear white whenever you want.

Think about it. Rules are made for two reasons. First, between peers, to ensure efficient functioning. Think soccer, Go Fish, the New York Stock Exchange trading floor. Second, by the ruling power to ensure control of the subordinate group. Think grade school, the Army, Jim Crow.

White clothes involve rules between peers to ensure efficient functioning? Bear with me. The unendurable difficulty of laundry prior to the modern Appliance Era made clothes you had to wash any more than absolutely necessary impractical, if not tools of torture. Lye was involved. And those who didn’t wash by hand were lucky, yes, lucky, to use a piece of equipment called a “mangle”. Right. Mangle. The rule No White Clothes Before Memorial Day, when one might hope to be done with snow and ice and slush, and puddles might be shorter lived, spared an entire cadre of washerwomen unnecessary labor and their employers unnecessary cost.

This edict may also have given the haves one more sign to distinguish themselves from the have nots. On a late summer morning, possibly, in the second half of the 19th century, possibly, the lady of the house, someone related to me, possibly, woke up and contemplated packing to go back to New York from New Jersey, or to Boston from the Cape. Exhausted by the thought, she said to her maid, “It’s just not right to wear white before Memorial Day. We will leave our white clothes here. And", she said over her shoulder to her husband, "Darling, you should leave those white bucks behind as well. You know you won’t be wearing seersucker during the Season.” So anyone who participated in the Season, in New York, in Boston, in London (come on, someone else read Georgette Heyer, right?), would not wear white in town, for fear of being marked as someone with no summer house. Horror of all horrors. ( I feel compelled to say I have my tongue in my cheek.) Again, all this is only possible.

Summer '09: White Watches by Legallyblondemel on Polyvore.com

If you and your peers want to agree to wear white only after Memorial Day or Easter please do. (I have far more trouble with rules made by one group of humans in order to suppress or shame another group of humans. For any reason. But that's a separate issue.) I stand my ground that the wearing of white no longer has absolute social significance. Even my mother, the Boston debutante, wears white whenever she pleases.

I asked her.