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The Midlife Second Wife ™

~ The Real and True Adventures of Remarriage at Life's Midpoint

The Midlife Second Wife ™

Tag Archives: Fashion

What I Wore

01 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Humor Me, The Well-Dressed Life

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

designer labels, Fashion, Humor, What I Wore

“For ‘Talk Stoop,’ I wore a blue and orange print Jenni Kayne skirt, a sheer black top and the black Casadei cage sandals. I want to kiss them and make out with them.”
—Heather Graham, “What I Wore”
The New York Times
April 26, 2013

NaotSandles

I ask you: Would you kiss these shoes?

Wednesday, April 24
No need to wake up early, since I’m not flying anywhere, so I lounged under the covers in the sleeveless coral nightgown my husband bought me for Christmas from Soft Surroundings. It has the sweetest ecru trim at the shoulders and neckline that seems as though it should be called lace, but it isn’t lace. I don’t know what it is. Crochet? Some other kind of needlework? How am I supposed to know these things? It might be crochet. My grandmother used to crochet afghans, which are blankets made out of large holes and yarn, and not Afghani dolls, although there might be some connection with Afghanistan. I’m not sure. My grandmother was from Lebanon. Anyway, I slept until the dog woke me up. Then I put on the ecru duvet slippers I bought on sale at Restoration Hardware. (Amazing. You go shopping for a brushed-nickel hook and end up finding the perfect slippers! I want to kiss them and make out with them!) I went downstairs and made coffee. When I added cream to my coffee it was the same color as my duvet slippers and the crochet on my nightgown. Ecru is my favorite non-color color, in that it reminds me of coffee.

Because I was getting a pedicure later that morning the woman at the salon asked me to wear flip-flops so the polish wouldn’t smear. I don’t own flip-flops, so instead I wore these beautiful blue leather slip-on sandals from Naot with my “Not Your Daughter’s Jeans” blue jeans and a Norton McNaughton navy boatneck three-quarter-sleeve top I bought on sale at Higbee’s in the 1980s. My mother always said: “Buy classic clothes and accessories and they’ll never go out of style.” She was right. I still wear two acrylic bracelets that I had in high school. The Naot sandals are insanely comfortable yet pretty; seven small rhinestones form a daisy petal on top of concentric stitched leather cutout petals. I want to kiss them and make out with them! It was cold and raining outside. I should have been wearing socks and warm shoes but what with the pedicure and all I couldn’t. As my godmother used to say: “You have to suffer to be beautiful.”

Thursday, April 25
Woke up with a bad sore throat and a stuffy nose. I didn’t have any appointments outside the house, but contractors were stopping by to discuss installing a railing on our front stoop and a white picket fence in our backyard. Luckily it had stopped raining, which was good because I was going to be darting in and out. I selected the warmest, comfiest clothes I could find that still proclaimed “Spring!”: a Cleveland Indians hooded sweatshirt featuring Jacobs Field on the front, the NYDJ bluejeans, warm socks, and my Abeo running shoes.

I don’t run. I have bad knees. But I do walk the dog. A lot. Sandy typically requires three outings, on average, each day. This is in addition to the morning walk she has with John before he goes to work, and the walk he gives her right before bedtime. Walking is excellent exercise for those with bad knees, but regardless of what you do with your knees, comfortable footwear is essential. My midlife compatriots know what I’m talking about. What does a year of disco dancing in platform shoes in the ’70s get you? A generation of women with knees like rusty hinges.

Friday, April 26
So excited! John and I had tickets to hear Michael Feinstein perform at Playhouse Square! My cold was a bit better, since I’d been popping Coldcalm like an opium fiend. I decided on my go-to evening-out attire: a black square-necked, dropped waist dress from Coldwater Creek. Because it was a bit chilly, I topped it with a black and grey duster from Barbara Lesser Studio. It looks like alligator skin but it’s not really alligator skin—I wouldn’t wear anything that harmed a reptile or a mink-like animal. I accessorized with a black beaded necklace set off by crystals and gold-like round things that I found at the bottom of my jewelry box, and my black acrylic bracelet from high school. Even though it was getting colder by the minute, I completed the look with dressy, black, open-toed sandals from Timberland to show off my pedicure.

Saturday, April 27
Sick in bed.

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Don’t Look: She’s Not Who You Think She Is

07 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in The Well-Dressed Life, The Writing Life, Transitions

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

Fashion, Fashion Mistakes, Style

FashionMistakeMidlife2ndWife

In the early 1970s, when I was in high school, a boy in my class had an older sister who worked for Glamour magazine. She edited its wickedly fascinating “Dos and Don’ts” column, with its pictures of ordinary young women going about their lives in various stages of street-scene activity. Unbeknownst to them, they were about to become anonymously immortalized as representing either sartorial savvy or a cautionary tale. If a face happened to be included in a photograph, black bars strategically placed across the eyes shielded one’s identity, sparing any number of poor girls the humiliation of being caught in broad daylight wearing ankle-strapped platform shoes with palazzo pants that were, sadly, too short. And with a panty-line to boot.

Believe me, having that kind of second-degree proximity to a fashion arbiter did make me think twice before getting dressed for school in the morning.

There’s little evidence in my own photographic archives to suggest that I had a terrible sense of style, or was prone to making serial fashion mistakes. In fact, I like to think that I was something of a snappy dresser, despite coming of age in the 1970s. Yes, I once purchased a belted polyester pantsuit, and I wore it with ankle-strap platform shoes. No, no pictures of the atrocity exist.

I did, however, come across this photo. What’s so wrong with it? you might ask. Well, quite a lot, actually.

The real fashion mistake here, aside from the tight curls that looked as though Harpo Marx dipped his head into a bowl of India ink, is the fact that this woman is not dressing for who she was.

Can’t blame her, really; she didn’t even know who she was.

The bridge in the backdrop of this studio portrait is fake. Even the pearls. And yes, the dress was polyester.

It was 1983, and she had dressed to play a role—the role of a certain kind of wife, a certain kind of woman. She was just starting to become who she was going to be…who she was meant to be. But she wasn’t there yet.

The word “corporate” comes to mind. This is a corporate look, whereas the woman fastened into it has a creative temperament. There was a poet and writer inside, struggling to get out, but it would be a year or so before the chrysalis would crack.

It was a film that would do it. She had recently seen Educating Rita, in which a character (played by Julie Walters) undergoes a metamorphosis through the study of literature, helped along with the tutorial guidance of Michael Caine’s character. Rita’s costume changes chart her evolution from tarty hairdresser—a streak of pink in her blond hair to match the color of her smock—to bohemian college student, dressed in studied earth tones, her hair allowed its natural brown. At the end of the film, Rita’s transformation is complete. Frank, her professor, presents her with a graduation gift: a dress. He bought it, he says, with “an educated woman” in mind.

“What kind of education were you giving her?” Rita jokingly asks.

I suppose the point of all this is that nothing represents our true selves better than our clothes. They are fashion markers charting the evolution of our growth and (at the risk of getting all New-Age-y), our self-actualization. In truth, the woman you see pictured here wasn’t representing herself falsely after all. Like Rita, her dress just hadn’t caught up yet with her education.

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Fifteen Shades of Gray

29 Friday Jun 2012

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in The Beautiful Life, Transitions

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

Beauty, Fashion, Hair, Hair care, Hair color, Silver hair, Style, Trends

“I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair—it just won’t behave…”

Thus begins the notorious novel Fifty Shades of Grey, by E.L. James. (If in fact that is her real name.) The central premise of this publishing phenomenon is not, as the opening sentence would suggest, the unruly state of the protagonist’s locks. And if you aren’t familiar with the book’s premise then tell me: “What’s it really like on Mars?”

No, the state of one’s hair is my concern—as chronicled in an earlier post and as I’m about to address here. My natural color is a deep, chestnut-brown, and it began betraying me, to the rhythm of what Margaret Atwood has called “the slow drip-drip of time,” in my early thirties. That’s when I boarded the dye train, with a ticket in hand that required a renewal every six weeks. Finally, after more than two decades of this relentless, expensive ride, I’d had enough. This year I’m embracing the gray.

Frustration at paying outrageous sums to a stylist, even one I liked enormously, served as my motivator. Little did I know that I was part of a trend, and that some women are actually paying good money to put in what I’ve been paying good money to take out.

I first noticed something was up years ago, when a stunning model with long, silver hair began showing up in my J. Jill catalog. “What’s this about?” I wondered. And then the epiphany struck: “Advertisers are finally paying attention to women of a certain age! That’s good!”

I’m not sure if Cindy Joseph gets the credit for starting the trend, but a trend it is, and christened as such by the New York Times, Huff/Post 50, MSNBC, and assorted beauty bloggers. I’m even seeing evidence in real life that the tide of dye has turned. I recently saw a lovely woman working at a home decor shop in Alexandria, Virginia, sporting a stylishly cut cap of silver hair.

Photo Courtesy of Jean L.

Jean L. graciously allowed me to interview her by email. The color you see in her photo is, she says, all natural. She is, she writes, “slightly older than what is considered a baby boomer.” She says she stopped dyeing her naturally dark-brown-with-auburn-highlights hair about 20 years ago. Here’s her story:

“I dyed my hair red for a number of years but the color would not stay. When I went to Aruba for ten days, the sun started bleaching out the color. Each day it got lighter; it was almost blonde when I flew home. I didn’t have time to color it and the next day everyone said they liked it blonde. I just stopped coloring it and it was white; I never had roots grow out.…I think the timing to let it go silver was the appropriate time for me.”

Jean’s photo belies the need for this question, but speaking for my own concerns, I had to ask her if she thinks her silver hair makes her look or feel older.

“I love my hair color. It actually gives me more confidence than when it was darker. I’m not afraid of it aging me as it actually looks better on me than my other, natural color. I think it is very stylish. A good cut and style helps.”

And the financial benefits to abandoning color?

“It’s absolutely been a savings. A cut and style is expensive enough.”

‘Nuff said. I’m already dreaming about what I’ll do with my new-found savings.

I did think I might be able to get away with keeping my hair long throughout this transition, but I was wrong. In the early weeks, it looked, well, charming—the way those little wisps of silver peeked out from my hairline. But as time went on, the little wisps disappeared and in their place was an odd sort of two-tone look, streaked with gray, that resembled the coiffure version of spectator pumps. I actually had three colors going: the new gray peeking through the real color of my hair, and, about a third of the way down, the dyed brown. It was not a good look for me. No, the best course of action was no doubt a short haircut. And the time was right, since summer can get brutally hot in Virginia.

As luck would have it, I had just read Style Weekly’s issue featuring the best of all things Richmond, which included their readers’ top pick in the hair-styling category: Imago, and the salon’s owner, curly hair expert Mary Jo Myers-Battiston. Not only did Imago receive Style Weekly’s blessing, Elle Magazine had named it one of the top 100 salons in the U.S. A place that specializes in curly hair? Ringing endorsements? This sounds like the place for me!

Renée, the receptionist, takes a picture of me mid-cut. Notice the 15 shades of gray (and brown).

I’ll write a future post about Imago—and the hope that its method gives to members of the curly-haired tribe—because I’m completely impressed. But for now, here’s the finished look, snapped before I left the salon:

The emphasis here is on the curl—and the fact that the gray no longer looks so out-of-place.

I can also smooth out the look with my flat iron. But regardless of how I style it, I’m cooler, the gray is blending in nicely with the rest of my hair, and I now have tons of extra time (and eventually money). The time I formerly spent styling my below-shoulder-length hair—I can use to finish Fifty Shades of Gray and a few other, slightly less sensational books. The money? If my financial planner has anything to say about it, I’ll save it.

Related Articles:

“Young Trendsetters Streak Their Hair with Gray”

“Gray Hair on Women Hits the Workplace”

“Granny Chic? Going Gray is a Hot New Hair Trend”

 

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Curb Shoes: We Love Them, They Don’t Love Us

25 Tuesday Oct 2011

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in The Healthy Life, The Well-Dressed Life

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Clothes, Fashion, High Heels, Shoes, Stilettos

Acrylic platform shoes.

Image via Wikipedia

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of the blog wrote to say that around the time I used her euphemism for high heels—curb shoes—in my interview with Dr. Amanda Miller, she was, coincidentally, trying on a pair of gorgeous ones. Before I share with you what C. had to say, you’ll want to know that according to the Guardian (and reported by Huff Post Style), a recent study revealed that 40-percent of high-heel wearers have suffered an accident in them. Hurts just to think about it, doesn’t it? You can read the complete Guardian article here, or visit Huffington Post‘s take on the story here.

You’ll recall that my friend’s term refers to the fact that the shoes one wears are impossible to walk in: “Please pick me up at the curb or drop me off at the curb.” Hence, curb shoes. Here’s her story:

In the end I chose not to buy them due to the very concerned look on my husband’s face as he watched me (try) to walk around the store. He didn’t appreciate my reasoning, which went like this: “But when I am just standing in place they look fabulous!” I, too, have been suffering with back problems, which have been attributed to leg length discrepancy. I’ve been working with a chiropractor and massage therapist over the past year and I regularly “engage my core.” I am seeing results slowly but surely.

Be careful, ladies. It’s a fashion runway out there, and we’re all Carrie Bradshaw, just one sashay away from disaster.

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Postscript (Thank you, Vera Wang): The Bride Wore Black

21 Friday Oct 2011

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Second Weddings, The Well-Dressed Life

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

ABC News, Clothes, Facebook, Fashion, Shopping, Vera Wang, Wedding dress, Weddings, YouTube

As much as I’ve always loved clothes, no one could ever mistake me for a fashion trendsetter. I mean, come on. Until last year, I lived in Ohio. For my entire life. (No offense, Buckeye State. I love you and always will.) But three days after posting an essay on the blog about wearing black for my second wedding, a friend on Facebook sent me a link to an October 19 ABC News story about acclaimed wedding gown designer Vera Wang’s newest collection. I found additional coverage from Buzz60 via YouTube. Take a look:

I’m sensing that announcer Maureen Aladin isn’t a fan of the look. What about you? If you were getting married again, would you wear black? Would you consider it if you were planning a first wedding? Share your comments below. And have a great weekend!

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The Bride Wore Black

16 Sunday Oct 2011

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Remarriage, Second Weddings, The Well-Dressed Life

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Bridal Gowns, Bride Wore Black, Brides, Fashion, François Truffaut, Jeanne Moreau, Love, Second Weddings, Wedding dress, Weddings

Photo Credit: Roger Mastroianni

It almost goes without saying that the experience of shopping for a second-wedding dress differs dramatically from the inaugural experience. The two are as different, you might say, as black and white.

In 1977, as a rookie bride-to-be, an entourage accompanied me on this cultural rite-of-passage: mother, maid of honor, and three bridesmaids. They attended me with the sort of devotion and diligence that acolytes reserve for royalty. They were as solicitous as a bevy of Pippa Middletons.

I and my entourage laid claim to Maryann’s Bridals in Lorain, Ohio, with the unbridled enthusiasm exhibited by women who, one would think, had never shopped before. We squealed. We sighed. We preened. We vamped. After several hours, we departed triumphant, a jumble of Qiana, tulle, and sequins in our wake.

Photo credit: Gordon de la Vars

This is what being a bride for the first time is like. This is what it is like on your wedding morn, too. I remember driving to Cleveland on the day of my divorce, 26 years later, painfully mindful of the disparity. When you get married, you do it surrounded by loved ones. When you get divorced, you do it on your own.

I was not alone, however, when I shopped for my second wedding dress; my fiancé accompanied me, in defiance of all superstition. It was a gray, rainy afternoon, and we had just left his younger son’s rugby game. The drive took us past Catan’s—“America’s Largest Bridal Salon”—in Strongsville, Ohio. It was late April, the wedding was less than four months away, and I was quietly panicking. A dress I had ordered online looked gorgeous on the website. On me it was matronly; I felt tired and washed-out looking in it, like week-old champagne.

“Let’s just run in and see what they have,” John suggested. “It will be fun.”

Fun? Let me tell you something about shopping for a wedding dress on a rainy day when you are 54-years-old. It is, in a word, ridiculous.

But John actually enjoys shopping, especially for me. In that enclave of satin, lace, and tiaras (which might as well have had a “Women Only” sign over the door, or, in my case, given my trepidation, “Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here,”) he was my doting entourage.

I had already decided that I was not going to wear white or ivory, and I was far too mature for the traditional gown and veil. My choices were limited to the “Mother-of-the-Bride” and “Special Occasion” departments and hampered by an extremely modest budget. Truth be told, there were times when I thought it might be wiser and less stressful for us to elope, but this wedding was far too special to me to put a gloss on it. It marked the beginning of a new, midlife life, with the kind of man I always dreamed of but never thought I’d meet. I wanted to make a meaningful entrance into this fresh, second-half of my time on this earth, and with as much elegance as I could gather around me.

We had, in fact, agreed that a traditional ceremony, with as many of the trimmings as we could afford, would be a lasting memory for our sons, and symbolize for them the new family that we were fashioning.

Yet, as ridiculous as being my age and shopping for a wedding dress (or, more precisely, a dress in which to get married) seemed, it also represented something exhilarating and somewhat paradoxical, given the circumstances: freedom.

I was, forever, no longer 21. The princess-bride fantasies I once harbored had long since been relegated to the remainder bin. If I wanted to wear my favorite color, I was free to do so.

And so it was that the bride wore black.*

If the dress that I selected had anything to say to the world, it would be this:

Here is a new, albeit older, bride. A modern bride. A bride who, on occasion, likes to tweak tradition. A bride who knows what is what in this world. A bride who has lived five decades and four years, and who holds no preconceptions or illusions beneath an illusion veil. (Indeed, I would wear a single, simple calla lily in my hair.)

Yes. The dress suited me. And, winking at superstition myself, I peeked out of the fitting room to find John.

“Well? What do you think?”

“You look beautiful,” he said, smiling. “You’ve found the dress.”

Yes. The groom saw the bride in her gown before the wedding.

And so far, they’re living happily ever after.

*There’s a marvelous François Truffaut film from the late 1960s called The Bride Wore Black, starring the exquisite Jeanne Moreau, the plot of which has nothing whatsoever to do with my own story. Luckily.

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Breakfast at Tiffany’s

05 Wednesday Oct 2011

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Indulgences, The Well-Dressed Life

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Fashion, fine jewelry, New York City, Tiffany & Co., Truman Capote

Even the poster sparkles!Tiffany & Co. at Stony Point Fashion ParkThe Tiffany & Co. DoorsWindow Dressing IWindow Dressing IIOfficials from Tiffany & Co.
The crowd awaits …Open for businessTiffany Model IBreakfast is served!Chamber MusicTiffany Model II
Tiffany Model IIIOrchidsGalleryAn Exquisite ChandelierFirst-day ShoppersTiffany Engagement Rings
The Famed Tiffany SettingPaloma Picasso Collection IPaloma Picasso Collection IIA Tiffany ChokerAn Array of HeartsBling

Breakfast at Tiffany’s, a set on Flickr.

Dear Readers—

Please forgive a second post on this topic; the software program I used to generate this photo gallery was a free trial and is going away in a few days; I didn’t want to take the chance on this gorgeous array of jewelry disappearing from the site. I’ve recreated the gallery in another, permanent program.

Anyway, you can’t have too much of a good thing, right?

Thanks for your patience!

Love,
TMSW

Last month I roused myself earlier than usual to drive one mile south of the James River to Richmond’s Stony Point Fashion Park. Like Audrey Hepburn’s Holly Golightly, I was going to have breakfast at Tiffany’s. Unlike Audrey/Holly, I was not wearing a black evening gown, opera gloves, clusters of diamonds in my hair, or pearls draped around my neck. (Holly, no doubt, was clad in rhinestones and paste. Audrey would have been diamonds and real pearls all the way.) I did wear black, though. With a camera draped around my neck.

I had been invited, as The Midlife Second Wife, to a special breakfast for members of the media in honor of Tiffany & Company’s grand opening. It was extremely well-attended; I’m told that of 34 people invited, 32 came. And this on a morning when President Barack Obama was to speak at the University of Richmond. After a week of nonstop rain, the day dawned warm and sunny—the better to reflect all the jewels, my dear.

The film Breakfast at Tiffany’s, based on Truman Capote’s novella, is so much a part of the cultural fabric that I almost expected to be served Danish at this affair. But no, the offerings were far more sedate and delicate—trays of waffle-and-chicken- and ham-and- biscuit-canapés circulated about the room on trays, carried by a solicitous catering staff, who also supplied flutes of orange and grapefruit juice. But with what surely was a wink and a nod to the store’s flagship city, the hosts also served up miniature potato latkes—topped with salmon, the tiniest dollop of sour cream, and two quarter-inch blades of chives. The coffee was local—Blanchard’s—and everything was quite delicious.

And oh yes! The jewelry! Bright, lustrous, sparkling … see for yourself. Here is a sampling  from the photos I took this morning. And no blog about remarriage would be complete without a photo of the famous Tiffany engagement ring. The hand in the picture is mine. I was obliged to leave the ring behind, of course. Luckily, I had an equally gorgeous one to slip back on.

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Gallery

Breakfast at Tiffany’s

09 Friday Sep 2011

Posted by themidlifesecondwife in Indulgences

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Fashion, fine jewelry, New York City, Tiffany & Co., Truman Capote

The Midlife Second Wife’s photostream on Flickr. Last month I roused myself earlier than usual to drive one mile south …

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