J. Crew Doesn't Want Your Legs to Get Cold

My eighth grade English teacher wore the exact same ensemble to school every single day: some type of simple silk blouse, belted - and sometimes cuffed - chino shorts, opaque tights, and flat shoes. (She also had this weird intense fondness for JFK; like her outfits, we couldn't really figure that one out either.) Sometimes we mocked the tights-with-shorts look. Then, like the fickle pre-teens we were, we tried on the same look ourselves, marveling at how grown-up we felt. Kids wore jeans and t-shirts; we were women, dressed just like mature adults. Fortunately, this lapse in judgment lasted a mere couple of weeks, tops.

Then, two days ago, the newest J. Crew catalog arrived in my mailbox and turned my safely stylish world upside down. There they were, staring me right in the face. Shorts. With tights. Patterned, textured tights. I quickly glanced at the cover of the catalog, scanning for the date. Nope, not 1994, but 2009.

A few questions immediately came to mind. Was the shorts-tights combo ever really "in style" at any point in time? Or is it rather one of those perennial looks that randomly pop up on eighth grade English teachers in the early 1990s, like tassel loafers? If not, is it truly making a comeback? Or, is this just a case of J. Crew's stylist using artistic license and going for "whimsical" in order to create a mood for the photographs?

Whatever it is, I have a feeling there's an English teacher in my hometown who's feeling very validated right about now.

Have Your Cake, and Walk it Off Later

In the ladies' locker room at my gym a few months ago I noticed a woman wearing some decidedly oddball athletic shoes. Similar to the "anti-shoe" MBT, they were black and thick-soled, but with a Skechers logo. I casually asked her what she thought of them, and she raved. She was reasonably fit and actually attributed some of that to her funny-looking sneakers, but I was dubious. Surely her overall fitness had more to do with the fact that she was working out at the gym in the first place.

Regardless, all types of shoes-with-benefits are popping up. AdAge reports: Brands such as MBT, Ryn and FitFlop have earned a cult following, broadening their distribution significantly in the last year or two, and now mainstream brands such as Reebok and Skechers are getting in on the action. More major brands are sure to follow, said Matt Powell, a footwear analyst with SportsOneSource.

However, are these shoes really effective, even to a small degree? Or are they simply a perfect storm of hype and wishful thinking? Isn't it the good old American way (or human nature, for that matter) to believe that it's possible to get something for nothing? Here are a few reasons why I'm not forking over my Mastercard just yet:

1) The cost. The Skechers pictured above cost $100, FitFlops run about $50-$70, and MBTs will set you back almost $200. For $100, I get five months of membership at my local gym (or 3-4 personal training sessions).

2) The look. FitFlops disguise their orthopedic origins well with a sleek, streamlined style, but a pair of MBTs look disturbingly similar to an Aircast boot.

3) My pride. Ideally, I work out five days per week, combining cardio with strength training, running outside at the track, rowing, and walking whenever possible. The payoff is well worth the effort, but it's still a heck of a lot of effort so the misguided idea of wearing some magical shoe to "cheat" my way to fitness really cheeses me off.

4) The product description. Skechers describes their shoe as having a "Kinetic Wedge super soft foam midsole" that "provides exercising effect." Want to know what else provides exercising effect? I'll give you a hint: it involves sweat. Also: "Running not recommended." Yeah, you're telling me.

5) The rapid rise to fame. Many of these styles have only just arrived on the scene (MBTs have been around much longer but until recently, served a much more niche market). With such lofty health-benefit claims, high prices, and still more well-known brands jumping on this bandwagon lined with cash, I fear that the fitness shoe craze is just that ... a craze.

Image: Skechers Action Packed Shape Ups, $99.99 at OnlineFitness.com

The Great Jumpsuit Debate of '09

Recently brought to my attention by my weekly Shop it to Me e-mail was a particular black silk crepe BCBGMaxAzria jumpsuit-esque thing much more suited to a formal evening event than for hurling oneself from an airplane. I can't quite make up my mind on whether I like it or not. On the one hand, it's different but on the other hand it's, well, different. And since different is the word my mother would probably use to describe almost everything I wore between 1990 and 1999, I know that different is not necessarily a good thing.

In order to evaluate the fabulousness (or lack thereof) of the garment in question, I have organized my thoughts into a point-counterpoint debate. Read on, and feel free to insert your own valid viewpoints.

Point: This jumpsuit is the perfect solution for those who want to wear pants but dislike all the fussing involved in choosing and coordinating a top and a bottom.

Counterpoint: Spilling something on it requires changing the entire outfit, thus defeating the purpose of its supposed ease.

Verdict: The jumpsuit loses in this scenario. Just yesterday I splattered Chef Boyardee down the front of a Banana Republic jacket. The words "be careful" do not resonate with me, so I need clothing that's versatile. Or a sippy cup.


Point: The obi-style belt around the waist is chic and appears to be inspired by a Japanese kimono. It cinches the waist at its smallest point for a flattering feminine silhouette.

Counterpoint: It's only chic until you need to completely unwrap yourself to use the bathroom.

Verdict: It's a draw. The coolness of the obi-cinched waist is offset by the fact that I'd end up naked in the bathroom stall when I pull the top down. But I could always just discreetly choose a stall towards the back.


Point: It's an unusual look, decreasing the risk of seeing someone wearing the same thing. Automatic fashionista points for wearing something completely unpredictable.

Counterpoint: There's a small chance someone would compare you to a character from Dynasty.

Verdict: The jumpsuit wins. It's basic black and doesn't have sequins, so I should be reasonably safe if I keep my hairstyle on the smaller side.


Point: It's 100% silk, it's beautiful, and it's on sale.

Counterpoint: It's $266 - still a lot of money, especially since its results are so uncertain.

Verdict: I might let this one pass me by for now, but I have not completely ruled out the idea of the jumpsuit just yet!

Image: Bloomingdale's

Hump-Day Hunk

Last Friday after work, I had the unfortunate timing of arriving at Boston's North Station around the same time as the Jonas Brothers (though this was unbeknownst to me at the time). The streets were filled with crazy-eyed tween-age girls sporting homemade t-shirts decorated with glitter and puff paint. I turned to a bewildered-looking woman on my side and said, "Who's in town?"

"The Jonas Brothers," she replied, a hint of slight embarassment in her voice. "I must be old," I said to her. "Because I don't really have a clue who they are." Laughing, she said, "Me neither. But my daughter is nuts about them."

Two days later I retrieved the mail, along with the August issue of Elle magazine. I was dismayed to see Miley Cyrus' face staring back at me with a contrived sexiness, lips parted slightly, with all her cheesy Disney wholesomeness checked at the door. My first thought was "But isn't Elle a woman's magazine? As in, for adults?" But my next thought went right back to last Friday afternoon at North Station. Miley Cyrus being portrayed as dark and sexy, the Jonas Brothers groomed as America's newest heartthrobs, millions of talented, qualified people unemployed across the country, shows like Big Brother still on the air? Has the world gone completely insane?

Fortunately, there was a gem inside August Elle that's worth the trek to the newsstand, and it came in the form of G.I. Babe Channing Tatum. No ill-fitting v-neck sweater vests and squeaky-clean song lyrics here; Channing is just the kind of guy you'd like to see chop up firewood (or eat ice cream, depending on your persuasion).

So tweenagers, take note. I don't care that there's a lot of you, or that you have buttloads of disposable income or whatever it is that you've got. I refuse to allow the lot of you to influence popular culture. You all have done enough damage, but you won't cause muscles to go out of style, I promise you that.

Image: Elle

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Dearest readers, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that I have a brand spankin' new URL for my blog, meaning that it's now fully integrated with my personal design and photography Web site (so please, pretty please, update your bookmarks!). How I actually managed this bit of back-end Web development without disaster or a medium-sized fire, I will never know.

What I do know, though, is that somewhere in the process of updating DNS servers and creating CNAMES and biting my fingernails to the quick, I lost my entire beloved blogroll. I don't even know when it disappeared; I logged in last night, and it was gone. I tried in vain to replace it with the URLs already in my browser history but I still didn't get them all. So, apologies to anyone formerly known as In My Blogroll but is no longer. It wasn't intentional. Stupid Interwebs.

Image: The Quaker Agitator

Bad Fashion Song Lyrics

While news of the impending doom of 41-year old Boston rock radio station WBCN may not be as bad as originally thought, the fact still remains that, for us old-fashioned radio listeners, there will be one less station playing reliably decent tunes with the reasonable expectation of never having to hear anything by someone who was formerly on American Idol.

Of course, 'BCN was never perfect. They played way too much Soundgarden, acted as if Nirvana hadn't released any albums other than Nevermind, and, please, let's not get into the details of that dreadful three-month period in which David Lee Roth singlehandedly dug his own grave under the pretense of a comedy morning talk show.

However, as a 'BCN listener I had been blissfully unaware of the phenomenon that is Lady Gaga, at least up until a few months ago. According to Wikipedia, Ms. Gaga is "appreciated for her provacative sense of style," and is "influenced by fashion." Indeed:

J'adore Vivienne, habillez-moi Gucci, Fendi, et Prada. Valentino, Armani too. Merde I love them Jimmy Choo.

Sure, name-dropping a bunch of luxury-goods designers could be construed as fashion "influence," but it actually appears her main influence is the first seven or eight ad pages of the nearest issue of Vogue. Open a magazine, choose a few designers, and shoehorn the names into a cheesy club-mix. Throw in a few key French phrases in for good measure. Très sophisticated.

J'adore Weitzman, habillez-moi Louis, Dolce Gabbana, Alexander McQueen, eh ou. Merde I love those Manolo.

With that said, I do sort-of understand the aspirational quality of these lyrics, in which beautiful shoes cost hundreds and thousands of dollars and are as out of reach to the listener as, say, an antique Ferrari. But Weitzman? To be fair, Stuart Weitzman makes lovely footwear, and I've personally coveted many of his styles for my personal shoe collection. But Weitzmans are typically sold at stores like Nordstrom for around $200-$300; pricy, sure, but not exactly what I'd call super-duper high-end luxury. What's next, a shout out to Nine West? Claire's Accessories? Lids?

And just in case you hadn't had enough shallow, vapid gobbledygook, there's more:

I need some new stilettos / Can't walk down the street in those / You are who you wear it's true / A girl's just as hot as the shoes she choose

Which item do I address first: the pitifully lousy grammar or the disgustingly materialistic sentiment? Or, do I just focus on keeping my eyes from rolling back all the way into my head? Suddenly some old, overplayed Soundgarden doesn't sound all that bad after all . . .

Image: DJChaos.com

The Curious Case of the Smelly (Unreturnable) Handbag

You'll remember a certain handbag I purchased last fall in Puerto Rico, one which I fondly refer to as El Stinko; you may also recall how El Stinko's handle snapped off back in June, sparing my (and everyone else's) nostrils but breaking my heart all the same. As I was about to toss the remains into the garbage, I remembered: I bought El Stinko at a chain store, and I still had the receipt.

The culprit, in happier times.

Sure enough, I had made the purchase at a Rainbow shop (I know, I should really know better). I wrapped up the receipt along with El Stinko's remains and rode the T to the Downtown Crossing location. I explained myself, stated that I didn't expect cash back since I knew it had been awhile, but that the quality was not up to snuff and I'd like some kind of consolation.

The cashier was incredulous. "You bought it in Novembah?" she asked. Clearly I was out of luck. The manager came over and looked at the receipt. "Sale items are final sale," she said curtly. "But it's a quality issue, and it broke," I protested. The answer was still no.

It being only a fourteen dollar lesson (believe me, I've had more expensive ones), I decided to admit defeat. I walked out leaving El Stinko with the cashier, hopped on the bus, and realized something as my bus pulled away from the curb: I'd left my damn coffee mug on the counter. My brand spanking new red aluminum L.L. Bean travel mug full of coffee.

It's official. El Stinko is cursed. But I'm still going to stop by on my way home and retrieve my mug.

Hump-Day Hunk

Last weekend Derek and I were hanging out at home, catching up on blogs (me) and watching Future Weapons (him). Out of nowhere, he said, "You should make Mack [the host of FW] one of your Hump-Day hunks some time. Your hunks are always wimps, and Mack is badass. He's a former Navy SEAL." I started to protest that my Hunks are most certainly not wimps, when I realized that Mack wasn't half-bad, in a meathead kind of way.

Image: Discovery.com

So, I'd like to present the first ever Hump-Day Hunk dedicated to my husband. Is that a bazooka, or are you just happy to be nominated?

Bits and Pieces

About a month ago, Carolyn and I attended an eco-fair of sorts at the Old Company Store, a quaint little shop in historic Wareham, MA. It was great; we received all kinds of free samples of handmade soaps, Burt's Bees lotion, and organic coffee. One of the samples was a packet of Crabtree & Evelyn Naturals Solutions for Men Shave Cream, which I passed on to Derek. He used it a few days ago, and ladies, take note: it smells good. Seeing as C&E just filed for bankruptcy, the stuff might even be discounted!

Get an extra 20% off final sale items at J. Crew with the code EXTRA20, and may I suggest this very lovely, very 40s-inspired ribbon necklace:

J. Crew silk-ribbon chain-link necklace, $69.99 (on sale)

If you're like me, you have a hard time laying down serious cash for fragrances. How can one teeny bottle of scented water cost $50, $75, $100? Well. I have discovered that many popular fragrances make a small version of their scent for (slightly) less moolah. Banana Republic sells 0.25 fl oz of Alabaster for only $10 ($7.50 each if you buy more than one). Marc Jacobs offers a 0.34 fl oz rollerball version of his signature scent for $25.00. Or, you could scour your area's summer yard sales: I scored a 0.5 fl oz bottle of Marc for - get this - fifty cents.

One of my fave bloggers, Deka from That's Hideous, took a break from writing to go to the Michael Jackson memorial in Los Angeles today. Check out her photos here! Also, check out this sincere tribute from a fellow Bostonian blogger, Arwen (hope you're staying dry today, girl!).

Oh, and if anyone has an extra copy of last week's InTouch and doesn't have a use for the MJ pull-out poster inside, well, let me just say there's a spot of empty wall in my apartment that could use a little something.

Ask the Fashionista*

*This is a new feature in which I attempt to answer reader questions regarding all things fashion-related. The word "fashionista" is used rather loosely here, as I am writing (typing?) this post in the clothing I slept in, nursing a slight allergic skin reaction to some rogue eye makeup I wore last night. Fashionista indeed.

Dear Fashionista,
Can a short working mother in her late 30s pull off cowboy (or engineer) boots, or are they a look solely for the young?
Sincerely, Dowdy Mama

Dearest Dowdy,
First of all, your late 30s is young, and age is only in your head! So the short answer to your question is YES, don't let teens and tweens have all the fun, and embrace your inner biker and/or country line dancer. You do, however, need to proceed with caution since all too many Western-style boots tend to look like this:

Lucchese N4513, $318.95

Although you could argue that these are pretty damn cool in their own right (although I might be unfairly influenced by Clint Black singing away on my iPod as we speak). Either way, cowboy boots - like country music fans - are a rare, rare sight in New England. It's all the more reason to sport a cool distressed leather pair, like these:

Lucchese N4554, $308.95

Or these:

Frye Billy Pull On, $272.00

Both of these have a fabulous worn-in look that would go great with a pair of hip-slung bootcut jeans. The heel is also nice and high; remember those horrible flat cowboy-esque boots from the early 90s? The ones that women wore with short skirts in lieu of high heels? Please, let's not revisit that trend.

Frye also makes an elegant engineer-style boot, too:

Frye Melissa Short, $191.52 (on sale)

You might also want to refrain from wearing any Western-style boot with a dress, particularly a floral. At best, you'll look like Winona Ryder in Reality Bites, which is fine only if your time machine travels back to 1994. Otherwise, stick to jeans for a casual, laid-back look.

Hump-Day Hunk

Today's Hunk was suggested by longtime reader Lynne; she found Argentinian polo player and Ralph Lauren Polo Blue model Nacho Figueras in a random issue of Sports Illustrated snagged from her hair salon. She writes:

Husband got magazine, I kept the Polo Blue insert ... those photos would make any day in Boston a delight!

Image: Models.com

Excellent work, Lynne. I like your tactics.

The Bra That Changed My Life, or At Least My Finances

Last night, Carolyn and I ventured out into the humid, depressing weather for what I would describe as an unprecedented bra shopping experience. Earlier that day, we had made appointments for custom bra fittings at Intimacy, a lingerie shop tucked away in a very easily-overlooked corner of Copley Place. Once we arrived, they had us fill out brief questionnaires about what size we thought we were (I could see where that particular one was going), our complaints about our current bras, and whether we thought the right bra could change our lives (a bit of a loaded question, to which I answered "no").

I'd been fitted for bras in the past, so I thought I knew what to expect: they'd wrap some magic measuring tape around me, jot down a few numbers, and bring out dozens of pretty, lacy bras for me to try on. I was wrong on almost all counts.

After completing my questionnaire, a sophisticated-looking older woman came over, introduced herself, and led me to a dressing room with a three way mirror. It was posher than most dressing rooms I'd been in - the mirrors could be moved to view many different angles - but as Carolyn admitted later on, the lighting could have stood to be a little more boudoir-ish. Especially considering what was to happen next. The saleswoman stepped into the dressing room with me, asked me a couple questions about what type of bra I was looking for, and instructed me to take off my shirt. I did as I was told.

She tugged at the back of my bra and said, "Here's your problem. This is way too big." Then she stunned me by undoing the hooks and saying, "Now let's get this off of you and we'll get you something in the correct size." I felt a little strange standing in there topless with a woman who, five minutes earlier, was a complete stranger to me (Carolyn: "What, no wine first?"), but she casually handed me a robe and disappeared into the store to fetch what I was hoping would be my perfect bra.

The first bra she put on me was fantastic. It was well-made and attractive with embroidered straps and lace, and was a strong contender until I stole a glance at the price tag. It was $100. I tried on some more, most of which fit very well; a feeling I was totally unfamiliar with as I tend to buy my bras off the rack at Marshall's. The saleswoman even brought in a LaPerla bra for me to try "just for fun," which was fun indeed considering it was $269. The bra that eventually caught my attention, though, was a chic black one made with memory foam that was both flattering and comfortable and - best of all - wouldn't require me to cash in my 401(k).

The winner, all seventy-two bucks of it.

However. The damn thing still set me back $72, which I will record right here and now as the most cash-ola I've ever laid down for a bra. But the knowledge of what I'm supposed to be looking for when shopping for a bra, paired with a much better idea of what my accurate size is, was priceless. I'll just be taking the aforementioned knowledge with me to Marshall's for the rest of my collection!