What Shoes To Wear On An Airplane?

As I will be flying East in a week or two, I have to plan not only what I will wear during my visit, but also my airplane garb. I'm very much the Sturdy Gal in transit. Grandes Dames have their pashmina throws, Artsy Cousins meditate so it doesn't matter what they wear, Sturdy Gals fly in black yoga pants, black tee, and a black down-lined jacket that can be taken off and on easily as one becomes over-heated dashing towards gates. Oh yes, and we like lots of pockets for passport, reading glasses, and cash to buy bottles of water. Which are required after so much dashing. 

All of which begs the question of shoes. I, as a good Sturdy Gal, abhor foot pain. However, as a High WASP I cannot bring myself to pair white running shoes with black clothing. Nor pink shoes, nor aqua, nor silver. Shudder. No, they've got to be black. Black trainers, as the British and their linguistic cousins would say. And the shoes have to support the afore-mentioned dashing. Which brings us to Pumas. I may be Sturdy, but not to the point where I can't convince myself that these are cooler than Nikes. Why? Who can say. Perhaps the leaping cat, often an image of women on adventure? More likely, the simple unknown-ness of the brand. They are Chipotle to Nike's Taco Bell. Extra avocado and all. And if they're not, don't tell me. 

Style is more felt than seen. Especially on feet. Especially on feet in airplanes. What do you wear to fly?

The Story About The Prada Peanut Cardigan And Her Friends

It turns out that my story about a Prada cardigan is really a story about a Prada dress. A classic, quirky, iconic, dress.

Ever since the W. Magazine vs. Vogue smackdown I have been dreaming of full-skirted beauties. Mooning over the impact they'd have on my waist, my wasted decades, the yearning I have always felt and will always feel for Fashion. Even though I mostly wear navy blue. Sometimes Aerosoles. The dress above is from Miuccia Prada. Something wicked this way comes.

But why would anyone currently optimizing jeans, khakis, and Target tees need that kind of clothing? They wouldn't. I know that. I know that. But I scheduled a meetup with two of my favorite bloggers, Maxminimus and Reggie. In New York City. Suddenly, mysteriously, I needed a new dress. The Narciso was not suitable.

Cathy Horyn, the New York Times fashion critic whom I heard speak the other week, told a story that started out, "And then there's always the question of, 'Can you find the clothes?'" She had apparently wanted to touch, if not buy, a Balenciaga runway dress. She went to Barney's NY, hoping the piece was available, and that she could remain unrecognized in its pursuit. It wasn't there, and they figured out who she was. For Cathy, the dress arrived on Barney's floor a few weeks later.

For the rest of us, actually buying something we saw in Vogue, or on a runway video, even if we are crazy enough to shell out the huge sums of money required, can be more difficult.

Back to my story. Back to my dress. Back to the hunt for something along the lines of what you see above.

Off to the Stanford Shopping Center. I searched through racks looking for those colors, those patterns, that silhouette. But Nordstrom and Neiman Marcus were showing shifts. I did not want a shift. In the sensible way that one has at midlife, I settled for similar color and pattern at Nordie's, all the while pining for a flounce. Just one flounce. Perhaps a little twirl.

Here's the Tahari pencil skirt I came home with. You can see my fondness for the Prada pattern wasn't just puppy love.I found a nice beige sweater to match. Theory. At a stretch, it's camel, and should I want to I can check off a trend. But trends and fashion visions are not fungible goods.



I even found matching pants. In tweed. So practical. So Sturdy Gal.


Be that as it may, I couldn't get Miuccia's 'Mad Men meets Dries Van Noten' creation out of my mind. And I know where to find a Prada store. San Francisco, On the corner of Post and Grant. I popped into my little white Toyota Rav4, the car so Sturdy that Kanye West curses it. I scooted up Highway 101. Surely, I thought, the dress will be unavailable. Surely I'm just being responsible, doing my homework to back up a purchase.

It's amazing what one can tell oneself when possessed.

The Prada store was up to its ears in cranberry. You know, fall and all.


And there, waiting demurely behind the cranberry tweed, was my dress. Or close enough. Held below by a very nice salesperson named Abe. He called me love, and brought me water. If you want to sell middle-aged ladies anything, bring us water. We're always thirsty. "Love" is optional.

Surely the dress would look terrible on.


Surely not.

On, the skirt has body. On, the bodice shapes. On, the hemline hits me right where hemlines all over the universe should hit me. And see that little black line on the bust? It's a lace crumb-catcher. They tacked it down for me, a bit, as there's only so much outré I can manage in one outfit, but still. I felt chic. The dust devils of desire, stirred up by W's photo shoot, settled. Harvest time.

And that was that.

If you'd like to see my new obsession out walking, take a look at the Prada Fall 2010 fashion show and lookbook. If you'd like to see the blue coat version, as worn by Anna Wintour, look here.

Let us not forget the Peanut cardigan. Since I will be wearing the dress to New York in November, and then to a conference in Atlanta which will surely be held in air conditioning, I had to buy this sweater. Whose sleeve I immediately snagged on a shopping cart at Whole Foods. That's what you get for forcing jeans duty on an aristocrat. Could I have made do with a sweater I already own? No. I shake my head at myself but I'm beyond shame. Beyond happens, even to High WASPs.

Were I Artsy I'd sport woolly tights, bagging in the ankle, with some suitable nerd-chic flats. Were I a true Grande Dame, I'd venture out bare-legged and ask my driver to crank up the heat. But as a Sturdy Gal, just pulling off Grande by the skin of her teeth, I'll be wearing nude Donna Karan pantyhose with these pumps. And damn the naysayers.



Lordy, lordy, lordy. Even Sturdy Gals dream.

The impulse to buy is the same I had at 20. Only the formation of desire is different. These days I read style with analytical faculties fully engaged. These days I understand that I keep clothes for decades, I hold them on hangers in front of my closet, I look back. Not inconsequentially, and not to wax overly sentimental, but these days I write for you all. I bought in informed delirium.

Thank you.

Kanye really doesn't like my car.

Images:
W. Last Exit to Brooklyn via Tom and Lorenzo
Others via me

A Brief List Of Some Very Good Looking Products

Somewhere my sisters are laughing. "Good looking" is my mother's phrase. Mom's got great taste, and if I could abstract out her theories I would. Would probably make millions. But for today, rather than talking about the how of good looking, let's focus on the what. Sometimes, in style, you have to start with the details.

For example.
A weekender by Dash. In its favor we've got navy, stripes, luggage-colored leather, a classic shape. At least I think that's what she'd say. The knowledge is deeply buried. $210.


A crisp, highly shaped, white jacket from Jack Rogers. The same people who make sandals. Brisk, efficient, clean. There's nothing like good heavy sateen, (oh the sheen) and a 3/4 sleeve. $248.


Merino throw rug from Anchini. In the brick red color family my mother adores. And the flowers look cheerful, and classic as medallions. $395.


Linens from Libeco. "Now what's so good looking about these?" you might ask. "Those are just some blue sheets." In this case "good looking" is a euphemism. It means that these sheets are made of actual linen. I don't think we've had real linen bedding in my family since 1974. Round about then I put a teenage toenail through a top sheet. Everyone took it very well. I have never forgotten how it felt to sleep in so much smooth and soft.

I'll refrain from posting prices. We're not talking about good buying, just "good looking."

Holiday card from Kate Spade. Plaid. Plaid that looks like an old woolen kilt. Enough said. $25 for 10 cards.


These, on the other hand, she would probably find vulgar. Holidays and family gatherings should make us think first of gambling. But she's too well-brought up to tell you so.

Have a wonderful weekend. It's out there waiting, and summer is drawing to a long, sweet, close.


Images:
Weekender from Dash
Blazer from Jack Rogers
Linens from Libeco
Throw from Anchini
Kate Spade Holiday Cards from Crane and Crane

The iPhone 4 Ad We'd Like To See

Apple's been running a series of ads for the iPhone 4 video chat application called Facetime. In the ads several things happen. A young woman worries about her hair. A younger girl frets about her braces. A woman tells her husband they are going to be parents, a man shows his father the new granddaughter. The former executive in my blood boils. Of course wished-for motherhood and new grandchildren are wonderful. Life-affirming. But why do the only other options involve women obsessed and insecure about how we look? I thought the Android phones were supposed to target men. Doesn't that leave iPhones for us? Here's the ad I'd like to see. The proverbial killer app. Roll 'em. The Privilege[d] Apple iPhone 4 Ad

Voice of young woman: Mom? Mom? Voice of older woman: Hi honey. What's up? 

Young woman: Mom, I've got that interview in like four minutes. Please tell me if this looks OK. 

Older woman: Shirt looks good. Is that the one I got you for Christmas? 

Young woman: Yes mom. But what do you think about the pearls. Just right or too much? Older woman: Well, what earrings are you wearing?

Older woman: A little closer. I can't see.

Older woman: Ah. OK. The spikes. The brutal pearls. Hmmmm.

Young woman: I know, they're a little edgy. But I hear this VP likes to push the envelope. 

Older woman: I suppose you've earned the right to a little edge. 

Younger woman: That's what I thought. 

Older woman: *Pauses* You know, honey, you're going to knock their socks off. Don't even think about your clothes right now. Just pitch what you can do for them. Watch their body language. You're good at that. 

Younger woman: I know, I know. Had a little last minute fear. 

Older woman: Just make sure they pay you what you're worth. 

Younger woman: Ha! I'll do my best. 

Older woman: Love you honey. Younger woman: Love you too mom. I'll call when I'm done.

Older woman: Sending luck. Not that you need it. And smooches.

How's that for a little testosterone? Not to mention some subtle and subversive pearls. Dress with dignity at work but never back down. Sideways is fine, on occasion. Happy Monday everyone. 

What Makes Budget Black Tie Work?

There, on your hall table. The envelope. It's thick, uniquely-shaped, with lustrous paper. Inside, an invitation. And there, somewhere near the R.S.V.P., sit the words, dreaded or welcome, Black Tie Requested. Now what? 

For movie stars, high-level socialites, and other red carpet denizens, time to call the stylist, buy a new outfit, or maybe, just maybe, remix an outfit from the closet. For most of us, time to fret. We know that black tie usually means long. You can get away with a cocktail dress, but if everyone else will be dropping their hems you may feel more comfortable following suite. Few of us have closets full of long. If you've got all the money in the world, no issue. 

I'm particularly fond of Lanvin at the moment. But my fading family fortune would screech like a toddler losing an ice cream cone were I to try and pry loose enough to invest in Mr. Elbaz's creations. So what to do? You have a couple of options. 

Option #1. Rush off to a prom gown store like Cache, or the "dressy" department of Macy's. I can't recommend this route. High WASPs don't even wear "gowns." We wear dresses. I don't know why. But I do know why not to follow the mass-market-dress-with-some-bling strategy. You may not feel right amongst the Lavin-clad throngs. Of course, if you don't care, then go ahead. If you are one who does care, and I confess I am, all is not lost. Learn from those who do this for a living. Option #2. The crowd who treat black tie like a tennis match have helpfully established some uniforms. 

Uniform #1, the Asian cheongsam/qipao/salwar kameez. A cheongsam calls out for toned arms, glamorous cuffs, and jeweled sandals. I'd do this one in aubergine, with pale blue trousers, or maybe navy with a very off green. You want a striking color palette. Perfect for the Artsy Cousin who has done service in Asia. Oh, and I'd shake my ShakeWeight. A lot. 

Uniform #2, the Carolina Herrera. Carolina, for short. After all, the woman has made this look so much her signature that stylists photograph similarly dressed models in homage. The Carolina suits those with lovely necks and bust. Frames a beautiful necklace well. Helps the long-waisted.

Requires high heeled peep-toe pumps or ballerina flats. Your choice, but you need a little heel and a little toe to show.

Must avoid the Full Dowager. Grandes Dames are not quite the same as dowagers.

The genius of these black tie strategies is that you should be able to pull them off for far less than $2000. I haven't tried myself, yet, but I've done a fair amount of research. To locate a Cheongsam, in most major cities, and many of their associated suburbs, Indian, Pakistani, and Chinese communities search out the last few talented tailors who provide homeland garments. If you like tunics and pants, find a resource for salwar kameez. If you prefer the more fitted cheongsam (this is the Cantonese word, quipao in Mandarin), Chinatowns all over America create custom-fitted wedding outfits. You can have anything made. Of course, having anything made in America will still cost a fair sum of money. A much cheaper alternative would be to take something off the rack and have it customized. Or venture offshore, and try one of the many online boutiques.

• Make sure to secure a fabric swatch and samples of closures, etc. in advance.
• The success of designing your own lies in impeccable materials, and scrupulous fitting.
• You will probably need to finish tailoring locally.

And the 'Carolina?' How to recreate for less? Here, Etsy will be your friend. You want a skirt in silk, satin, or velvet, with detailing and some volume. Find one with a waist suitable for display, or sash it yourself. For the white shirt, you want a substantial cotton, fitted, with an interesting detail at neck or cuff. Alternatively, a cotton lawn shirt, transparent, embellished. This short sleeved blouse moves the look younger, towards the land of Boho, and Little Women. Can't you just see some beautiful unknown girl, in Victorian skirt and this blouse, hair up on her head, sweeping into a room full of fancy people? Capturing everyone's imagination?

When all is said and done, we might be able to get to our event for just over $300, without accessories. Leaving you room for a cuff by Alexis Bittar. And certainly some serious faux pearls.Yes. For this occasion it's just fine to go big and go fake. You're carrying it off. You're Sabrina, only you didn't sew your own. It's possible to find even cheaper long black skirts. But I suspect they lack volume.

Most importantly, you will want to try this all on. Everything. Wrap, bag, shoes, jewelry, makeup. There's no point unless you arrive at that feeling of, "Ta Da! I'm here!" Otherwise you're only fulfilling societal obligations. And there are lots more of those way more important than wearing appropriate clothes to a gala.

One could, of course, avoid folderol and donate the money to whatever cause your black tie event supports. Or, one could, calling upon the entrepreneurial spirit that has served this country well, round up 10 friends to buy an entire table, thereby contributing and dressing up. Both. Doing both well.

When Brands Miss By A Quotation Mark

Do you ever find yourself painfully aware that a brand has had you in its sights, fired, and missed? I remember, back in the late 1970's, Lowenbrau beer ran a campaign featuring groups of young adult friends. They were usually gathering at someone's house for a small party. Laughing, drinking, hanging out. Which was just what my friends and I did. Or wished we did, even if we didn't. 

But then came the jingle. "Here's to good friends, tonight is kind of special. Let it be Lowenbrau." Right there we said to ourselves, "That's it, we have no interest in living a beer commercial. No Lowenbrau at our party unless we're in the mood for irony. No Lownbrau, even if it is just me and my neighbor watching Saturday Night Live." Lownenbrau lost us, the overly-educated, partying, friend-having baby boomers, by making us self-conscious about who we were. Many people loved the campaign, but they lost my particular crew. It's even harder to market to High WASPs. I pity the brands who try to talk to us. Because the harder they try, the worse it gets. The most recent example?

 

I had been looking for brogues online, and found some by n.d.c. I liked the shoes very much, even if not, on the face of it, $540 worth of liking. But I hated the branding. I might not be alone in this. Maybe you agree. Maybe not. From their website.

The brand name n.d.c. - nom de code/code name - reflects our conviction that the strength of our brand is the product itself. There are 4 key factors in every n.d.c. collection - simplicity, quality, originality and constructional know-how. Artisan hand-crafted with leather carefully selected from Europe's best tanneries, n.d.c. products are "works of art."

Doesn't it sound like they are targeting the kind of people John Houseman and Sam Waterman pull in with, "They make money the old-fashioned way. They earn it?" High WASP incarnate. But no. If the strength of your brand is the product itself - a perfectly fine goal - why on earth do you make up terms like, "constructional know-how?" And worse, really, so bad I can't bear it, why do you call your shoes "works of art," in quotation marks? Quotation marks mean, in this context, "I'm not serious." They mean, "I'm holding my two hands up, waggling fore and middle fingers of each hand, and raising my eyebrows up into my hairline." They mean, "I don't think so." I know. We're picky. But if you find us, we will stick around. We'll tell everyone your brand is "different." Those are the good quotation marks that imply, not the dross commonly available. And, despite fading family fortunes, we can still locate a little disposable income here and there. But we're not going to liquidate capital for "works of art". Please go back to the drawing board. Because I also like your boots.

And your Plims. Which is a good thing to call sneakers if you want to talk to High WASPs. Refers to the British term, "plimsoles." We like the British. Just indirect enough. In this case, the quotation marks are not ironic in the slightest. $220, in gray leather.

The Low-Down On High WASP Sunglasses

The Sturdy Gal, sporting Ray-Bans, on a boat in the Stockholm Archipelago.

High WASPs do have their favorite sunglasses. Like IBM in the 1970s, no High WASP was ever fired for buying Ray-Ban. That's me, up above. And yes, I did Photoshop out a wee bit of my frown lines. I have not yet achieved the nirvana of a vanity-free midlife. Full disclosure. But I digress.

My middle sister wears Ray-Bans. And I did a Twitter poll of my preppy friends. While not all High WASPs are preppies, and not all preppies are High WASPs, in the sunglasses arena we're pretty well aligned. Ray-Bans win in a landslide. Tortoise shell a plus. From @AgathaMChristie*, we have the recommendation for these cat-eyes. $145. Sturdy Gal can go a little Artsy.
As @girltuesday and @Agatha also reminded me, we have been known to go for the occasional pair of Pradas, or Oliver Peoples. These are Peoples' "Riley" glasses. Also just a little bit artsy. Love the transparent frames. $365. Or Persol. These are $255. I have been ogling that particular hinge detail for, oh, 25 years now? My youngest sister wears Persol. Oh, yes. Don't think I haven't noticed.
What if you want to sport a Grande Dame look, in what we affectionately call our 'sunnies?' It wouldn't be Versace, or Dolce and Gabbana. Just because it wouldn't.

Hopsy loves Lilly Pulitzers. If I'm going Grande Dame, I'm wearing the logo with impunity. You want a logo that stands for something. Lilly does that. $170. Why logos are OK for sunglasses and not for other things, I don't know. You'd have to ask a real Grande Dame.
Muffy chimed in with Chanel. I did buy a Chanel pair once. During our recent turn-of-the-century madness and concurrent stock market heights. They were black, with that matelasse detailing on the side. I loved them. I lost them. Now I rather like these below, in white. Especially the expansion of the famous double C's to include the stylized camellia. Brilliant. I have no idea what they cost. Chanel figures if I have to ask I don't want them. Fine then. If you're going Grande Dame, go all the way to Florida.
Chanel can also take us pretty much all the way to Artsy. Silver fronds of plant material are definitely not Sturdy.


Or, for even more Artsy, given that these are a special secret probation fashion insider brand, try Karen Walker. She doesn't give us prices either.


Espoused, in a show of secret and only suspected edgy fashionable depths, by our favorite Preppy Princess. Preppy waters run deep. I've said so all long.

Lest you worry I'm advising we all return to giddy, profligate, turn of the century ways, be assured. The Sturdy Gal likes Target specials just fine. That's what my mom wears. She's from the generation before all this brand folderol.

But Foster Grants are even better. $20.

Because the Sturdy Gal loses her sunglasses all the time anyway.

Watch that video. No, you don't have to buy high end for good eye protection. But, things being what they are, you might do it just because.

Ray-Ban here.
Oliver Peoples here.
Persol here.
Lilly Pulitzer here.
Chanel here.
Karen Walker here.
Target here.
Foster Grant here.
Thank you to the Hostess for asking about sunnies. Thanks also to Worthington and Lauren for their contributions.
* The @thingie is how people show up in their Tweets. Their user name, if you will.

Should You Cringe When You Buy Steve Madden Brogues?

I bought some Steve Madden shoes this weekend, and cringed.

Let's blame a man with a microphone. It was the annual Nordstrom shoe sale. Complete with open boxes on the floor, empty display cases, and cut price footwear. The man with a microphone directed traffic. I usually hate sales. Too noisy, too much visual clutter, too much pressure to Buy Now.

But I had been thinking about buying a pair of oxfords, having seen them in New York, and in magazines. To say nothing of feeling the breath of fall under the full heat of summer.

So I bought these.

And cringed. The Steve Madden brand is not one I am proud to own. And any time I feel shame in purchases, I have to deconstruct. What is it about Steve Madden?

First of all, actual Steve is a crook. He went to jail for fraud and was removed from his company. That puts him somewhere between Bernie Madoff and Martha Stewart. But that is not enough, by itself, for brand shame. Greed in America often takes entrepreneurs off the Calvinist track.

[This] cost him about eight million dollars and control of the very company that brought him such riches. Madden was sentenced in 2002 to 41 months in prison for his role in a stock swindle scheme coordinated by the now-closed brokerage, Stratton Oakmont. His wrongdoings include conspiring to manipulate the stock prices of more than 20 companies, including his own. And, he did it at the expense not only of the public but his own investors who lost more than 100 million. (LegalZoom)

The answer to my shame can be found front and center on Madden's brand management website.

Madden has innate sense of what’s hot, what’s next, what’s exciting and more importantly, how this will translate to his consumer. [GRI]

There you go. The company targets strivers. Unabashedly markets to happy wannabees. Actually wants to be trendy. High WASP are mortified to show any signs of trying. Any at all. We prefer to at least pretend we do not care. That we are not trendy. Au courant, perhaps. Fashion forward, rarely. Trendy, never.

It's not that we want to buy brands that show our wealth. The opposite. I suffered a veritable crisis when I bought a Louis Vuitton bag. I could only do so because the Monogram Vernis line renders that ubiquitous logo nearly invisible. Nor do High WASPs shun discount stores. Target is our friend. Merona makes fantastic tee shirts, in both fit and price.

But we don't want to strive. We were supposed to have finished striving in 1892. Steve, clearly, is not targeting me or my ilk. I am fascinated by his clarity of vision, and shaking my head once again at the power of well-executed branding. Brand well, and you will attract your target consumer, alienate others. Design good products at a good price, and even those you alienate with your brand may purchase your stuff.

The brogues, on the other hand, I liked very much. Soft distressed leather. Nice detail. Comfortable. Interesting color that works well with khakis. One cannot, after all, wear nothing but black on the feet forever. The only issue I have is the synthetic sole, preferring the texture, sound and sensation of leather. Of course, to prevent wear I always have to get the shoe repair place to cover them with rubber, but that is beside the point. Uhuh, it is so.

Finally, Steve prices for value. The brogues cost less than $70.00. To a woman who has sworn by Ferragamo all her life, and confesses to having regarded Stuart Weitzman as down market, $70.00 is a remarkable price for a pair of shoes.

Let's face facts. My family fortune has faded. I need to keep building up a decent casual wardrobe for what appears more and more likely to be my imminent retirement. I am a Sturdy Gal who hates high heels. All signs pointed to one and only one conclusion.


It would have been dumb not to buy these. Dumb, and a symptom of the High WASP snobbery I struggle to resist. I liked the shoes. I could afford the shoes. I bought the shoes. Some of us grow both by indulging in slightly vulgar dreams of Louis Vuitton and by coming to terms with a reality of Steve Madden brogues.

And lest you think I am virtuous, it has occurred to me that no one will know they are Steve Madden unless I tell the Internet.

Images: me
Shoes: Steve Madden "Trouser" from Nordstrom

The Joy Of Local Boutiques, And A San Francisco Designer

I found my standalone top. Or, shall we say, a standalone top. Now that I've found one I realize I may need a few more. So useful for a life lived in jeans, when no jacket is required but one has too much midlife stomach to set free upon an unsuspecting world.

What's more, it's sourced, as Faux Fuchsia might say, from a local boutique. Not my midlife stomach, mind you, I found that on the highway of life. Or it found me. We don't know. The top I sourced here.

M A C stands in this case for Modern Appealing Clothing. The boutique, in the neighborhood known as Hayes Valley, has been around for a couple of decades. They don't have a website that I can find, but here they are on Yelp. They also recently won Best Men's Clothing from SFGate, so if you've got a stylish guy in your life, bring him here and make him happy.

It's run by a brother and sister. They are helpful in a quirky, diffident until you're interested, committed once you care, kind of way. Rather like shopping in your hip friends' living room.

Your hip friends who collect terrariums, grow orchids, and just happen to hang Mr. van Noten around their living room in support of abstract expressionism.

I had been brought to M AC by Googling Dries van Noten+San Francisco. A big sale was underway. However, admirable though the Drieses Pieces were, none looked good on me.

The blouse I did buy is made by a local designer, of a toothsome cotton/silk blend. The sailor silhouette was just visible enough for whimsy, but not so pronounced as to suggest Pierrot. I am not looking to remind anyone of a sad clown.

You can see the weave and pattern close-up. It's subtler than you might expect, given all those rather large circles. You can't see the round, brown, semi-translucent plastic buttons, but they are there, and convey the requisite mid-century edge.

Here's the cheerful label. DEMA has a boutique too, and a blog.

Dries, even on serious sale, put me in the $400 range. This cost ~$150. What's more, when the medium proved too big, and the length of the blouse too short, M A C made alterations for free. I wore my new sailor friend for the first time with my old Chanel jacket,

because sometimes standalone tops don't have to. It was a fun surprise, putting these two together. The best purchases sometimes show their stuff for real once you get them home.

How To Get "Tunic" Arms

In our recent discussion of the hunt for tunics, many of you commiserated with my desire to stop sucking in my stomach. "Enough already," we said. "We just want to breathe as nature intended."

However, many of you also expressed concern over revealing your arms. I believe I have found a solution.

And, now that you have had a moment to reconstitute yourself from the puddle of laughter into which I threw you, so unceremoniously, let me confirm. Yes. That is a ShakeWeight.

Celebrated on infomercials, so beloved by Ellen DeGeneres that she has made it a recurrent meme on her afternoon television show, and rife with opportunity for bawdy jokes.

The ShakeWeight. And I bought one. And I use it. And I think it actually works.

Anticipating your next question, no. No, High WASPs do not generally recommend the acquisition of infomercial goods. But Sturdy Gals, known in their youth for sufficient strength to carry tables, celebrated for their biceps, and now mourning the loss of said musculature, are granted dispensation. We take Queen Victoria as our model, muster up our inner Grande Dame, and say under our collective breath, "We will if we want to."

Good triceps take one a long way down the quiet halls of aging. Do not go gently. ShakeWeight.

No compensation was received for this post. I thought about trying to make the links to Amazon the kind that give me $0.12 every time they are used, but I used up any brash I've got posting the link to SNL.

The Privilege[d] Guide To Paris (for not too many euros...)

In case we were at all confused about the city in question:).

My trip to Belgium and Paris was a surprise. This meant that I did not have time to gather all of your suggestions in advance. My best friend prefers the spontaneous. This meant that I was not sure what we were going to do until we did it. I'll post the trip report, as it actually happened, next week.

But you all gave me some great ideas, and I didn't want them wasted. After all, some of you out there might be on your way and looking for trusted suggestions. Or, you might like to click all these links and imagine you are there just now, on a Friday as you wait for the weekend. Forthwith, the first edition of the Privilege[d] Guide To Paris. Thank you. And please add, if you like, any additional suggestions in this vein in the comments below.

Landmarks

• The Sainte Chapelle - Overwhelmingly beautiful stained glass. Verified by LPC.
• The Tuileries In Front of the Louvre With A View To the Arc de Triomphe. You can imagine the Roi du Soleil making his way up the boulevard. With many chariots. Verified by LPC.
• The Cluny Museum - a museum of the Middle Ages. Class factotum
• La Cimitiere de Pere Lachaise 20eme, northeast part of the city - didn't go but wish we had had the time.
• Montmartre - returned from tourist hell to history. The Fourth Canary:).
  

Shopping

• Herve Chapelier for totes - Her Preppiness
• Louis Vuitton flagship store on Champs Elysee - Her Preppiness (right near Laduree:))
• Repetto for ballet flats - Tish at A Femme D'Un Certain Age. Verified by LPC.
• Bon Marche on the Rive Gauche - Tish at A Femme D'Un Certain Age (I hear they have the world's best food court.
• Moda de Andrea, 79 rue de la Victoire, behind Galeries Lafayette, for discounted designer shoes and bags - Tish at A Femme D'un Certain Age. Verified by LPC
• The Rue Cler market, street market on the Rive Gauche - Class factotum, who never pays full retail.
• Colette, Rue St. Honore, to see what the fabled owner thinks is hot now - Tish. And then just walk the Rue St. Honore and marvel at the Impressionistic store windows. And yes, I use the term advisedly. Color creates the strongest meaning.
• Rick Owens, minimalist meets diffident rock and roll, looks like the epitome of cool to me in the Jardins du Palais Royal - from lauren at kidchamp.net

Food

• Jacques Genin on rue Charlot in the Marais for mango caramels and tea service - an award-winning chocolatier - Valerie
• Laduree - Her Preppiness and Tish. In addition to the macaroons currently circumnavigating the Internet, Laduree offers very delicious lunches of the lady type. The 75, Champs Elysee location is gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. And gorgeous. Verified by LPC.
• Le Pre Verre, the Rive Gauche, 5eme - French with a twist of Asia. The suckling pig in a light curry/star anise sauce is good enough to cause unconsciousness. Be sure to walk the nearby streets after you eat. Cuisine gastronomique at bistro prices. Verified by LPC.
• La Societe, in St. Germain des Pres - if you are looking for trendy, which, in Paris, can be ravishing. Via Tish, again, who knows whereof she speaks.

Hotels

• The Westin Paris - large, western, business-oriented hotel, with beautiful and classically remodeled new rooms. Located right next to the Louvre and the Tuileries and Avenue St. Honore. Helpful concierge. With 8,000 Starwood points, rooms can cost as little as $150/night. Verified by LPC.
• The Hotel Bourgogne et Montana - Boutique hotel on the Left Bank. Prices starting around $300/night. Verified by LPC, but 30 years ago:). Looks to have been well-maintained.

*Note that both Tish and Deja Pseu are professional Paris people, dwellers and lovers of respectively. Deja has a trip planned to Paris soon, as does Mater. I am expecting many photos to extend my trip in my imagination. You should spend some time with them for deeper views. Finally, Duchesse, at passagedesperles@blogspot.com, has a guide to Paris for over-50 women you can email her to request.

Antwerp Fashion, Real And Imagined

Antwerpen Centraal. A train station. A beautiful train station. From the era of decorative iron.

Thursday, my friend and I traveled from her small town in Belgium into Antwerp. Antwerp has a cathedral. Antwerp also observes Ascension Day by closing all its stores. Hmm. I saw the cathedral. Beautiful. Hung with an exhibition of Piers Paul Rubens* paintings. More beautiful. I also saw the outside of the Dries Van Noten store, at Nationalestraat 16. Also beautiful.

I thought all Dries Van Noten clothes looked like this.

Like Antwerp weather. Neutral. Functional. A certain austere beauty. Well, Mr. Van Noten has evolved. Jakarta meets Palm Springs. I bet Jonathan Adler loves Mr. Van Noten.

That's what I saw in the window. It wasn't an anomaly. This is what Dries showed for spring.

And the fall.

Where have I been? His stuff is wildly beautiful. (And brutally expensive, but, yeah, well, the window-shopping is free.) The kind of classic to which I am doomed by my genetic heritage, made up in colors and fabrics that make you want to sleep with them. For those of us with Sturdy Gal leanings, Dries Van Noten is Artsy Cousin in a box. Risk-free. Constructed from a luxe set of materials that the Grande Dame would not shun. Not at all.

Despite the Ascension Day store closings, Dries piqued my curiosity about Belgian designers. So let's pretend I saw some other stuff. Let's take some photos from the ever useful Style.Com, and intersperse a few snapshots of the Belgian things I did instead of going into stores. And if those things seem to mostly include food, well, I have nothing to say about that.

Apparently other Antwerp designers we might visit include Walter Van Beirendonck. Off we go to. But on the way to Walter's store we see this.

We take note. McGregor is a European company with the tag line, "New York 1921." Go get 'em J. Crew. Don't concede your sweet spot in chasing Anthropologie. Even Belgium is doing neo-prep this year. Pink and green. We proceed down imaginary streets to find Mr. Beirendonck at Sint-Antoniusstraat 12. Deemed "trash-cool." Well then.

Walter also offers a fairly unique take on pink and green wear for men. For those unable to reconcile their Lily heritage with hipster yearnings.

Now imagine these. Courtesy the lobby of the Antwerp Hilton. Centrally located and quite convenient. Not closed on Ascension Day.

Fortified, we continue.

We would love to visit Oliver Theyskens, but he has moved on to design for Nina Ricci, or Veronique Branquinho, but she has shut down her line. While it's been announced that Veronique has begun to design shoes for Camper, and bags for the classic Brussels leather goods concern, Delvaux, we're going to guess there's no store with beautiful windows in Antwerp. At least not yet. So in our imaginations, we try one last place. Ann Demeulemeester., on Leopold de Waelplaats.

I do not believe that at this point in my life I will be wearing a leather brassiere much. Even if I liked the look, the discomfort is too severe for Sturdy Gals of any age.

Imaginatively shopped out, dreaming of Dries, amused by Walter, and uninterested in Ann, we eat dinner. At De Peerdestal. Ceiling of dark wood beams, tables covered with white cloths, walls roughly plastered. Exactly what an American might predict for Belgium. No mussels, instead we eat langoustines and taglietelle and lick our fingers as Americans will. Take a more delicate approach to the white asparagus in vinaigrette. Drink red wine. Push away from the table.

What's real and what is imagined are often hard to separate. Fashion likes it that way.

*That's what the Belgians call him. When in Antwerp, etc.

Images (because photo credits are not imaginary)
Antwerp Centraal - me
Dries Van Noten store - me
Dries Van Noten coat - Style.com
Dries Van Noten pants - me
Dries Van Noten skirt - Style.com
Dries Van Noten pants and jacket from runway - Style.com, and here
McGregor store window - me
Walter's tshirt - Walter's online shop
Fries - me
Ann Demeulemeester - Ann D.'s site
Ann Demeulemeester - Style.com
Dinner - me

Additional Resources
If you want more about the original Antwerp Six, read this.
Those dedicated to serious shopping might want to read about discount clothes shopping in Antwerp.