Too Cruisy

It seems the fashion world has lately discovered the benefits of something that Australians have been enjoying for years: transeasonal dressing.

Much has been made in the fashion press in recent months of the growth of resort ranges, where designers show a separate collection in between their summer and winter offer, intended to be worn in less extreme temperatures.

‘Cruise’, as it was traditionally known, has been around for years, but its purpose has been changing. Whereas once it was something the rich used to buy to wear on their yachts or ocean liners during holidays to tropical climes, escaping the New York snow or the endless Parisian months of grey, now it is being worn by those staying at home as well.

Global warming must no doubt be playing a part in all this, as other parts of the world discover that they need something for in-between weather. And combined with the blurring of the lines between formal and casual dressing, it makes perfect sense to provide clothing that can be worn at any time of the year, at any time of the day or night.

Because there is not such a big difference between seasons in cities in the Southern Hemisphere, we have long known the merits of lightweight coats, fine-gauge knits and cotton cardigans. And milder winters are making the chances of wearing gloves or overcoats for more than a few days or weeks less and less likely each year.

This is great news for our wardrobes, our budgets, and the environment, as it means that we can pretty much wear the same clothes all year round.

A dress worn with thongs or sandals in the height of summer can be layered over a jumper and teamed with woollen tights and boots in winter. It’s simply a matter of adjusting the fabric weight or the number of your layering garments. And you can easily go from day to night in such an outfit. It’s a great way to get around the all black or grey winter clothing issue as well. Create instant pizzazz by wearing floral prints or strong colours.

Jeans are all weather and almost all occasion faithfuls, as are a smart pair of black pants. You don’t have to have different fabrics for different times of the year. Cardigans and knits can go over or under blouses and shirts to extend their versatility and seasonal longevity.

A new way of dressing brings with it a new set of pitfalls however. Think about how you mix your summer and winter items, as extreme contrasts in fabrics and colour are difficult to combine and even harder to pull off.

White peep-toe shoes don’t go with black ribbed tights for example, no matter how loudly your inner Alice is calling you. A cotton skirt with a thick woollen jumper is unbalanced and could make the skirt look flimsy or washed out, the jumper heavy and dark. Keep the colour palette simple and your fabrics in similar weights and you can enjoy wearing your favourite pieces in entirely new ways every day of the year.

Happy styling

Rubi

Take a Chance on Me

A week after the premiere of the Sex & The City  movie, still reeling from the experimental exuberance of many of the outfits but at the same time revelling in the fact that they worked so fantastically despite their sheer audaciousness, I found myself nodding along to Maggie Alderson’s entertaining weekly column in the SMH’s Good Weekend, as she recounted her own joy and excitement the first time she saw the movie.

Until I got to the end of the article. In her final paragraph she admitted that despite their fabulousness the outfits should stay on the screen, that they only belonged in a dream world, and that once she was back home in her comfortable jeans and t-shirt her urge to turn her wardrobe upside down and experiment deserted her for the safety of the always meticulously stylish yet ultimately familiar.

I actually verbalised a protesting “NO!!” over my brunch, quite surprised that having agreed with everything she said for the first several hundred words that I should be so spontaneously opposed to the last twenty.

Why should expressing the crazy side of your personality remain only a dream? Why do the best new ideas have to stay on the screen, leaving us to admire them as fantasy yet all the while creating our own versions in our heads, too scared to adapt them to our own realities and try them out for ourselves?

There was a time, back in the so-called golden age of cinema, when my mother used to race home excitedly from the movie theatre, sketch her favourite on-screen outfits for my grandmother (an expert seamstress), and have them made up in time for the next ball or even just to wear to the office that week. So why not now?

And there that protest has been sitting at the back of my mind, quietly popping up every time I head out in an outfit combo I have never tried before, gently nudging me when I see another person on the street sporting a print or colour combination I had not thought of, and making a mental note that there has been a subtle shift in the style of dressing of late that I would like to think can be attributed to people taking more chances and getting inspired by new ideas.

And then I read Vivienne Westwood’s comments on Vogue.com in response to rumours that apart from her own contribution she was not impressed by the film’s wardrobe. It was reported that in fact she has “been delighted to notice recently how well young girls are dressing, and that they have clearly been inspired by the film”, and I realised that yes, inspiration has taken hold, and I am sure that it is due in part to the SATC juggernaut and its ripple effect.

So get inspired to try out different things by looking at what other people are wearing. Public places are ideal venues for doing your own free fashion research, not just the cinema or the small screen. In the office, on the train, in bars and cafés and the local weekend markets - you can adopt the hits and ditch the misses - and the experimentation is started for you already!

That is what the innovators are there for, to take the chances for us, and we should DEFINITELY be turning those chances into new ideas for ourselves. That’s how your own style will evolve, as you gain the confidence to make your own mark. Plus it’s great fun as well. And who doesn’t want to feel a little like a New Yorker with oodles of style and a bottomless budget once in a while?

Now go on and get experimenting! And let me know how it goes…

Rubi

Don’t Put Me On a Pedestal

Fashion is full of contradictions. One of the things I love about it is the way the old and the new coexist: the forward-thinking, innovative side pushing the boundaries and challenging the rules just as they become comfortable, constantly revisiting and reinventing what has gone before.

One area of fashion that does not seem to move with the times much at all however is the wedding dress. Now I have always had very strong views when it comes to wedding frocks. Mostly of the why would you bother wearing an outmoded style that has no relevance to the modern world variety. Who wants to perpetuate old-fashioned notions of helpless girls being rescued by dreamy men in dinner suits, wanting to be looked after and idolised as only a princess should?

But there is a lot of truth in the don’t-knock-it-until-you-have-tried-it approach to one’s pet hates. Just as there is admittedly a little more to my views than just an aversion to white taffeta and veils.

I recently found myself surrounded by those very items, whilst accompanying a soon-to-be wedded client on a fact-finding mission. We wanted to find out what kind of wedding dresses were to be had out there that did not actually look like wedding dresses. Something befitting the style and sophistication of a forty-year old bride, that would not scream I am deluded, but instead say I am divine.

Terrified that we were about to be subjected to the hard sell, we agreed upon our modus operandi before entering the store. Then we firmly briefed our consultant on colour, shape and style (no white, no trains, no cakes) before she went off to make her initial selection. First style, minimal sparkle, tasteful shade of silver. So far so good.

Sitting on the chaise lounge waiting for the modelling of the next frock, my mind started to wander. I started to picture myself on a dance floor in a backless satin gown, handsome partner in tow, gliding effortlessly around to the strains of the jazz quintet, admired by all present.

I was horrified. Did I secretly harbour the desire to swan down an aisle in white? Was I experiencing a defining moment, where everything I had thought to be true was being turned on its head as I admitted that, yes, I not only wanted a wedding, but a gown to match?

But I soon got a grip on my imagination, as I realised it was not about starring in my own fairytale wedding. It was actually all about the dresses, and my romantic associations with bygone eras of balls and beaus and glamorous gowns. Surrounded en masse by beading and chiffon in an age of viscose and cotton jersey tends to do that do a girl if she’s not careful. 

I could now see how easily one could get carried away, egged on by a sales consultant that spends her days swimming in a sea of tulle and taffeta, and get talked into buying something inappropriate not only to your modern-girl sensibility but your modern-girl shape as well. It is no secret that we are taller, bigger-chested and wider-waisted than our predecessors that donned pretty much the same designs filling catalogues and bridal magazines today. The difference is that those designs weren’t so far removed from what those women wore out on a regular Saturday night to the local dance. So why do we feel the need to delve so far back into the past? 

I guess it is partly about wanting to properly mark the occasion, acknowledge its solemnity with a suitably grand outfit. But therein lies the danger, and it is treading that fine line between reverence and irrelevance that is so tricky.

In the end it is the prerogative of the bride to choose how she wants to look on the day, but it is worth keeping in mind that you don’t have to bow to tradition to carry on the tradition you are taking part in. After all, the beauty of the modern age is having the power to express yourself as you see fit. And that expression is what people are coming together on the day to celebrate, not how many petticoats you can fit under your dress and still manage to stay upright in.

Although I must say the experience has me rethinking my next choice of gown as a wedding guest. Maybe a little more old-world glamour would be fun. After all, a little bit of sparkle goes a long way…

Rubi

Colour & the PC

To the dedicated style aficionado, style is a way of life, extending naturally and often unconsciously to every aspect of daily existence.

Choosing a cup for morning coffee, selecting a shopping bag for a trip to the supermarket, deciding which socks to wear with knee-high boots: these may be things that no one but you will notice, but that is not really the point. Style is as much about what you do for yourself as what you share with the world, and when it is second nature you rarely give it a second thought.

Until something happens to bring you rudely back to a distinctly unstylish reality. It is painful to admit, but sometimes the stylish choice is simply not the best way to go, and you have to fight hard against your basic instincts in order to give in to what you know to be the more sensible option.

There comes a time when you realise you may have gone too far, when you find yourself about to make a slightly silly buying decision, and all over the colour of the item in question.

Now with clothes for example colour is paramount; furniture equally so. And the bigger or more expensive the item the more you will wince every time you look at the glaring reminder of your foolishness if the print or shape selected turns out to be less than suitable. But for me the polarising moment came in the harsh world of personal electronics.

Searching for the perfect laptop recently, I found to my dismay that when you need it to be small and light, by and large the only colour choices are black, steel grey or white, to which I can only object loudly and indignantly in the name of stylists everywhere. Just because you need to be able to carry it around with you all day does not mean you are automatically bereft of taste and the need for individual expression.

Whilst having recognised that people in business do not want to have to cart around laptops that weigh more than our oversized patent handbags, the makers of laptops have not acknowledged that we may also be concerned with what they look like. It is not only teenage girls and university students that want their computers to come in colours. And it definitely goes beyond wanting to match them with our mobile phones or the colour of our bedroom curtains.

Now I have no doubt that the electronics industry pride themselves on in-depth customer knowledge, believing that their research dollars are well spent and result in stylish products that meet the discerning requirements of the laptop-buying public. Many large and weightier models now come in an array of colours and are thin enough to fit into handbags with room for sunglasses to spare. They are just not the small and light ones.

And so I found myself faced with a tough decision. Did I take the laptop that was the perfect shade of style bar purple, with a sleek shiny shell and all the features I was looking for, but that was also at least half a kilo heavier than I knew to be ideal; or the smaller version, with the same specifications but in less than scintillating black?

Emotion is a powerful factor in buying decisions, especially when you are thinking about your professional image as well as your practical needs. There is the very real question of how you plan to get around Barcelona with this thing on bicycles and subway trains, not to mention the fact that regular visits to the chiropractor are a most unwelcome drain on a freelancer’s budget.

And yet I kept thinking about how good it would make me feel every time I took it out of my bag to use it and saw the fabulous colour, and pictured running my hands admiringly over the satin gloss shell. Not to mention how it would go perfectly with my business cards and pop-up umbrella.

I have not yet made the final awful decision, because I know in the end I will have to settle for function over form. But I will be making sure at least that the black cover is as glossy and sleek as is humanly possible. If I can’t have the colour I want I can at least have the most sophisticated black available.

Now I don’t see this as total defeat. Being forced to think a little harder about how to make a dull and soulless item into one you would proudly own is just a way of forcing you to be a little more creative. After all, if style was that easy where would the challenge be? I will simply have to find the perfect laptop bag to express my inner style.

Just don’t get me started on the selection of laptop messenger bags on offer. We will have to save that for another adventure…

Happy styling

Rubi

Exchange Students

A group of like-minded women gathered together this week, inspired by the spirit of exchange and in the name of fashion, and ended up swapping a little more than they had bargained for.

If you think that a person is no longer attached to the clothes they never wear, that don’t fit anymore and are not so much last season’s as last decade’s, spend a few hours in the company of a hundred-odd women who are committed to letting go of just those kinds of items.

For many of us it was an exercise in honest self-examination and steely resolve, as we discovered how hard it can be to decide which pieces are not worth keeping but are worthy of exchange, thus making the grade of what we hoped would be desirable to our style-savvy counterparts.

So how was it that the comment that I heard uttered time and again that night by fellow recycling converts, with more than a hint of surprised disappointment in their voices, was that had found nothing that was as ‘good’ as what they had brought along to part with. If everyone had spent the week before the event going through their wardrobes, making the hard decisions and bringing in their good-buy-but-time-to-say-goodbye-to gear, who on earth had brought all the crap?

It just goes to show how personal style is, and holding onto garments too long can turn them into shrines to sentimentality, obscuring the fact that bad fabric, too-loud prints and the vagaries of fashion have moved on in no uncertain terms, and you most certainly have not.

For as I discovered first hand, one woman’s Little Black Never Failed To Pick Up Dress is another gal’s Would Never Be Caught Dead In Tasteless Sack.

There is so much history imbued into the very fibres of a once-prized but now discarded garment. But no one sees what you see when you look at that cherished piece: the first time you saw it in the window and the hours spent doing the cost-per-wear analysis over and over until you gave up and simply decided to go without food in order to buy it; the weeks spent painstakingly paying it off; and finally the sheer joy the first time you wore it, knowing you had made the right decision, feeling fabulous in it then and on the fiftieth wear.

But that history is yours alone and it cannot be passed on to its next owner, nor will it increase the value of it in their eyes when appraising it as a potential new wardrobe member. I had foolishly thought that a little black dress (LBD) would be a no-brainer swapping item, and had even pictured the look of happy surprise on someone’s face as they came upon it on the racks, hardly believing their luck to find such a special piece on offer.

And yet there it was at the end of the night, inside out and falling off the hanger, its zipper half mast, an all too cruel reminder that not only would I never experience the joy of wearing it again, but that I had repaid its unwavering devotion to delivering me years of bedroom action by subjecting it to repeated rejections that culminated in its shameful consignment to the charity heap. I consoled myself with lofty thoughts of giving to those in need without wanting anything in return. And tried to fight the need to find something to replace it.

Perhaps I had been too rash in bringing it here, forgetting that it would look bland and boring amongst a sea of coloured options, its fabric and cut totally missed in the bargain shopping atmosphere, where the need to grab things before there was nothing left to choose from and you went home empty-handed took over the fear that you would just be taking home another mistake.

But I stood my ground, left it to its fate, and distracted myself from what I had left behind by having my hair and makeup done, and enjoying another glass of bubbly in the company of my similarly confronted but philosophical swappers.

And when I did make a final sweep of the room and spotted my Deja Shoes, still sitting there alone and unappreciated in their box, I swiftly liberated them, swapped them back, and took them home with me to live another day. The thought of abandoning two of my fashion progeny in one night was simply too much for this recycling novice to face.

Plus, I’ll be needing something to take with me next time.

Rubi