rules

Hard as Nails

by Sally on August 2, 2012 · 121 comments

The older I get and the longer I write a style blog, the more I hone my grooming skills. I mean, it’s not like I was wandering the streets streaked with dirt and sporting a giant rat’s nest atop my head, but I didn’t know how to apply mascara in 2008, didn’t know how to wear blush in 2009, and just recently learned how to flat-iron my hair. I still can’t do a proper smoky eye and am stymied by actual lipstick (I’m a gloss girl), but I’m learning. Slowly.

I will tell you, though, that as we near the end of yet another summer I am still baffled by the “rules” that seem to surround fashionable nails. Truly and completely baffled, friends. I have decent nails that get bright white tips naturally, and I generally just swipe some clear polish on them. But I heard recently that French manicures are so passé, and I generally look like I’ve just gotten one. AND. According to the various and sundry magazines I read, it is also frowned-upon to match your manicure and pedicure. Not only that, but my field research leads me to believe that stylish women are expected to coordinate their polish colors to their outfits. I am perfectly happy with my hot pink toes from May to September, but apparently I am a laughingstock for my relentlessly boring choices.

I am giving myself a migraine as I type this …

Now you all know, I’m no stickler for style rules. They are merely guidelines and should be ignored and subverted at will. So I will not succumb to nail-related pressures for many reasons. And they are as follows.

  • I cannot afford regular professional mani-pedis. (Also I have paid for several and NEVER gotten a good one.)
  • Since I have to do my own nails, they generally look like this:

  • I do not have the time, money, or inclination to swap out polish colors on a daily basis.
  • As a dyed-in-the-wool matchy-matchy gal, the prospect of coordinating finger and toenails that “go, but don’t match” makes me feel all twitchy-like.

And so I must consult you, wise readers. Can anyone explain to me how these nail rules arose? Does anyone abide them? Lovingly and willingly? (Some women take great pleasure from the ritual of polishing nails!) Grudgingly and resentfully? (Some don’t!) When did maintaining your nails become so complex? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN???!?!@?$??

Top image courtesy The Nailasaurus. Who has truly amazing nail-polishing skills. Middle image via weknowmemes.com.

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Reader Request: Making Sense of “Must-have” Lists

by Sally on June 19, 2012 · 29 comments

Brenda popped this question into the suggestion box:

I’d like to hear more about how to use “the must have lists” of fashion as concepts instead of edicts. For example, I don’t wear black or white, so the LBD and the ubiquitous white shirt are never going to be in my closet.

Nearly every style guide includes a list of wardrobe staples, items that every fashionable woman simply MUST own. These garments and accessories are generally conservative, classic, and a bit dull … yet they are meant to form the foundation of every modern woman’s well-rounded wardrobe.

In my experience, these must-have lists are seldom helpful in generating productive shopping lists. Sure, they’re great jumping-off points if you’ve just graduated from college and have no idea how to transition from ripped jeans to business casual. But even then, most of those lists do not address the following issues:

  • Pieces like button-down shirts and pencil skirts do not work for all body shapes
  • In this day and age, buying a quality suit isn’t always a wise investment
  • Some of us just don’t LIKE pearls, dammit

There is no one-list-fits-all set of classic items that will suit every possible body type, budget, and lifestyle. Plus, so many must-have lists overlook bodily diversity. They offer up items that flatter only a small segment of the womanly population, and tell the rest of us to just keep looking until we find a trench coats that don’t make us feel like walking sacks of potatoes. And besides all that, few women could purchase a list of classic, must-have items and feel complete. These items may encompass a fashion icon’s ideal style, but they seldom reflect the wants and needs of us regular gals.

I am happy to say, “Screw the sanctioned must-haves! Choose your own wardrobe workhorses!” But since Brenda is hoping to take something useful from these lists, here’s what I’d recommend:

Analyze problematic items

If you don’t wear black and an LBD is never going to worm its way into your closet, think about what that dress represents in the context of a must-have list. It’s not the blackness so much as the versatility, classic styling, and subtle sexiness. Those characteristics can be found in a red dress, a navy dress, just about any dress that will work as a pivotal piece in your own wardrobe.

If an item on a wardrobe essentials list clashes with your own style, analyze that item and attempt to glean its essential traits.

Make substitutions

The next logical step is to swap in similar items. As mentioned in the example above, the LBD can be any color that suits you. If you’re told to buy diamond studs, feel free to go for CZ, Moissanite, or even a colored gem like amethyst or garnet. Black pumps are certainly classic, but if you can’t do heels go for a simple, versatile black flat.

If an item on a wardrobe essentials list just won’t work for you, swap in something similar that will.

Consider the classics

Very few lists of wardrobe must-haves will include polka-dot leggings, tiaras, or chartreuse skirts. Why? Because these lists are assembled from classic, time-tested, versatile pieces. Now, some more recent iterations will throw statement necklaces, skinny jeans, and other fairly recent favorites onto the fire, but the general idea is still to collect a bunch of items that work fairly well across time, stylistic preferences, and body types. Nearly all lists fail to actually DO that, but they try. And knowing a bit about what is considered “classic” can help shape your idea of style and fashion. Even if there isn’t a single item on Tim Gunn’s list that calls to you, knowing what he deems classic, time-tested, and versatile is good knowledge to bank.

How do you feel about must-have lists? Are they bunk? Somewhat helpful? Essential to a complete understanding of the fashion world? What advice would you give Brenda about using these lists without feeling bound by them?

Image courtesy Banana Republic

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Ethnic Ethics

by Sally on June 14, 2012 · 99 comments

This photo is EXTREMELY old. I’m thinking early 2008 or so. I’m wearing a handmade red tunic that I thrifted in a color and cut that I adore. What drew me to this piece, though, was that interesting neckline. I’d never seen anything quite like it, and loved the modified keyhole shape it created.

About a year later, I found several tunics in identical shapes in a thrift store in Chicago. I bought another one in a funky black, white, and red pattern, which I wore a couple of times. But the moment I happened upon that second set of tunics lurking in the thrift store racks – also handmade, all with that very specific neckline – doubt began to creep in. These weren’t just fun tunics and great thrift finds. These garments were likely cultural, and from a culture unfamiliar to me.

I asked around to try to find someone who had seen these tunics in action. I Googled my little heart out, guessing at possible cultures and groups who might have made and worn such garments. No luck for years. Very recently, I came across this post from Terri and finally had a name for this garment: Shalwar kameez. And, after a bit more searching, a little bit of background. I certainly respect Terri’s research and informed decision to wear hers, but I’ve long since stopped wearing mine.

Garments and accessories are often deemed “ethnic” as a selling point, and “tribal” patterns always seem to trend for spring and summer. In many cases, the fashion version of “ethnic” means “non-Western, non-Caucasian, and therefore exotic.” In this context, these descriptors can be insulting, subtly racist, and may encourage cultural appropriation. Of course, the fashion world is guilty of near constant cultural appropriation and it can become difficult to discern which items are merely influenced by the aesthetics of certain cultures and which items are mass-marketed ripoffs of culturally significant garments. So, as a rule, I avoid purchasing and wearing anything that’s specifically billed as “ethnic.” The lines blur a bit with something like the thrifted shalwar kameez, but even minus the marketing push from the fashion world, I feel uncomfortable wearing just about any garment that hails from a culture about which I know so little and to which I have no personal connection.

Now, I don’t think that cultures should segregate by dress and never cross-pollinate. I don’t think that only Irish people should get to wear Claddagh rings or that only Icelanders should get to wear patterned wool sweaters. And I don’t think that the leather wrap belts I wear are an insult to the traditional Japanese obis that inspired their design. But I do think that Americans are considerably more detached and casual about clothing than many other cultures, and often accept any interesting or cursory explanation of cultural significance as sufficient without investigating for ourselves. We can be quick to glom onto anything that is made cool and alluring by its foreignness, and adopt versions of it into our wardrobes without understanding its origins. To me, it seems unwise to wear garments and accessories that hail from other cultures without understanding the potential religious, historic, and cultural implications they may be invoking.

Of course, it can be extremely difficult to tell by looking at someone where they’re from, what they’ve studied, if they are devout, or really anything at all about their heritage, knowledge base, and beliefs. At least, without making some pretty broad generalizations and potentially dipping into racism and stereotyping. And it’s next to impossible to know the cultural origins of every single item of clothing ever designed, made, and worn by humankind. (Unless you study fashion history and have a truly spectacular memory.) So I try not to judge other people who wear “ethnic” or foreign-seeming clothing and accessories, trusting them to make their own decisions about representation and broadcast.

I’m of Western European descent myself and feel pretty comfortable adopting and wearing tartan, berets, and even dirndls because I understand their histories and am personally connected to the cultures that created them. But those shalwar kameez? My only connection to them is the thrift store that sold them to me, plus a few general descriptions on a few websites. To someone who understands what they mean, my wearing them could be insulting, offensive, or comical. I’d rather move through the world with a more complete knowledge of what my clothing means.

What are your thoughts on “ethnic” clothing? Do you think it’s harmless? Do you feel like influenced pieces are less charged than direct copies? Where do you draw the line in terms of wearing items from cultures other than your own? (Many of these ideas were discussed in this post on poseurs and personae, but I’m curious about this specific angle.)

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Reader Request: Matching Skirt and Coat Lengths

by Sally on December 5, 2011 · 37 comments

Lovely reader Jenni (from Helsinki!) sent this question via e-mail:

I’m thinking about subject, which I think you haven’t covered yet (or at least I don’t remember): how to wear coats with skirts and dresses and especially how different hem lengths and silhouettes work together. The climate here in Helsinki must be pretty similar to what you have there in MN, which means winters are COLD. Therefore it would be great to read more about coat lengths compared to skirt lengths. Example from my life: I was wearing a lovely felt A-line skirt, that hit below the knees, then realized all my trench coats were considerably shorter and my nice outfit was totally ruined after I added a coat. I had go out and couldn’t change the skirt but I ended up feeling stupid the whole day… As the winter is approaching it would be great to hear your thoughts and how you’ve solved these kinds of problems.

Much of Jenni’s question was covered in this recent post about selecting a coat to work with your outfit, which definitely covers skirts and dresses, but I wanted to explore the specific question of matching lengths a bit more.

Even though the rule itself has been around for decades, I wasn’t even aware that matching your skirt hem to your coat hem was a “thing” until recently. And I just don’t worry much about it. I know that some women may consider this to be a grave style faux pas, and I can definitely see how matched hems create a marvelously clean look. But I feel like there should be some leeway in how closely those hems align.

This is not to say that I’ll do any coat with any hemline. For instance, if I’m wearing a super long cardigan, I wouldn’t put a cropped bomber jacket or super-short coat over it. (Again, specifics on my preferred coat/clothing pairings here.) But any coat that falls within a few inches of the cardigan hem? Works for me!

My main issue with the coat-dress hem question is that it may cause women to feel like they must either purchase a coat to match each and every skirt length, or limit themselves to a single skirt length so that their coat will always look appropriate. You end up with a system that’s either too expensive or too confining. Every woman must do what works for her style and pleases her eye, but I think that roughly mismatched hems are perfectly acceptable.

Over the past few years, I’ve seen several magazine articles stating that the matching hem rule is now obsolete. Other bloggers and style experts hold a variety of opinions on the subject:

As always, style “rules” are really just guidelines, and even the loosest guidelines are being bent and broken by the most stylish women in the world on a daily basis. Wear what makes you happiest, and you’ll look radiant every day. And that goes for mismatched skirt and coat hems, too!

Are you a stickler for matching hems? If so, how do you make certain your hems always align? Do you own lots of coats, or stick to a single length of skirt? If you don’t mind mismatched hem lengths, do you have any rules at all – like mine about super-short coats over longer outer layers? Or do you live in a world that’s a coat-skirt-hemline free-for-all?

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Sartorial Slippery Slopes

by Sally on November 15, 2011 · 208 comments

NOTE: In light of several distressed comments, it seems that some clarification is needed. Within the context of this post, I mention depression and chronic illness as possible reasons for wearing pajamas in public. I did so specifically to point out that there may be underlying reasons invisible to the observer, and that blanket judgment is unwise. Always unwise. I have written previously on this topic, but perhaps wasn’t clear enough here. I had no intention of attacking or reprimanding anyone suffering in any way. The purpose of this post was to generate discussion around theoretical ideas of what current dressing choices might become in the future, not to scold those living in the present. As I have said numerous times, what we wear may give  some information to observers, but it is never the whole story. Please see the comments on this post for additional discussion and input from those battling chronic depression and pain.

* * * * *

As stylists and style experts go, I consider myself to be pretty open-minded. I don’t parrot rigid figure-flattery rules, I don’t insist that every woman dress to look as tall and thin as possible, and I don’t reprimand anyone who dresses outside the narrowly-defined version of “stylish” that populates fashion mags. It’s a big, diverse world, and there’s room for all of us in it.

BUT I do believe in dressing as a social act, and as such believe that we should dress not solely for ourselves but for our circumstances and environments. Unless you put on clothing and stay inside your house without interacting with any other humans, how you dress will impact other people. I don’t think we need to dress to please those around us, but I do think we need to dress appropriately for our activities and peers. That will mean different things to different people, of course, but here are a few extreme examples:

  • Don’t wear a bikini to the office. It isn’t appropriate to your task, and is likely to make those around you uncomfortable and distracted.
  • Don’t wear overalls to a funeral. It’s a solemn, emotional affair and deserves attire that will reflect respect.
  • Don’t wear a suit to go hiking. You’ll be uncomfortable, ill-equipped to complete your task, and likely to ruin what you’re wearing.

Those examples are all obvious, and I doubt most people would even consider such stylistic choices. But there are a few more common dressing choices that I’ve observed over the years, and I’ve been interested to see them discussed with tremendous interest, emotion, and anger across blogs and magazines over the years. I think of them as “sartorial slippery slopes.”

Pajamas and slippers as street wear: In my neighborhood, I regularly see people wearing printed pajamas and novelty slippers to walk around, do errands, etc. Many of us have seen PJ pants make appearances at the grocery store, on college campuses, and elsewhere and their appropriateness is the subject of hot debate. The argument that I see most often defending PJs as street clothing is that people who are ill or depressed or both often can’t do much more than head to Walgreens in their bedroom clothes, then head home. In all honesty, I believe that hauling on a pair of jeans, yoga pants, or clean sweats instead of kitty-printed pink PJ pants and bunny slippers is something that the majority of folks can manage. But naturally, there are significant exceptions. Nevertheless, I see no real need to transform bedroom-specific garments into acceptable street wear for all. There are about a million different garments that feel just as comfortable as pajamas and cost about the same amount of money, but don’t evoke sleeping and bedroom activities. When asked, “Why shouldn’t I be able to wear my PJs in public?” my question in response is, “Why is it important to do so?”

Exposed bra straps: Occasionally my straps peek out of a tank top during the dog days of summer, and I couldn’t give a hoot. Fancy affairs are different and I’ll change out my lingerie for those, but if I’m just headed to the movies or out for a bike ride, I’m not fussed about showing straps. However the discussions surrounding exposed bra straps trouble me. Most of what I’ve read in fashion mags tells me that if my bra straps are going to show, they need to be colorful, interesting, and sexy. And while that could merely be interpreted to mean, “If they’re gonna show, at least make it look intentional” it could also be interpreted to mean, “If they’re gonna show, why not take the opportunity to make yourself an alluring sexual object?” That doesn’t sit well with me. Any more than purposely showing the back side of a thong or top two inches of a pair of boxers does. In my opinion, underwear should remain under other clothing.

Extreme casual attire at traditionally dressy affairs: I’ve been to the opera a handful of times, and recently attended my first Broadway show. Each time I’ve shown up at these traditionally fancy affairs in my relatively fancy garb, I’ve seen men in cargo shorts and women in flip flops. And while I’ve said before that I don’t consider the rapid casualization of our dressing society to be a sign of the pending apocalypse, I do consider it to be a shame. While I see the benefits of relaxing dress codes on some fronts, I fail to see why they must be relaxed on all fronts. Leaving a few places and occasions off-limits for jeans-and-tees-level attire helps us to remember that life has pockets of formality, some events deserve our best duds, and that we may feel more connected to an experience if we dress in a way that makes us feel more attentive and attuned.

I consider all three of these dressing choices to be potential “sartorial slippery slopes.” They may seem harmless enough on their own, but they represent trends that might lead to even more unusual choice patterns. Taken to theoretical extremes:

Pajamas are meant to be worn while sleeping, or at the very least, within the confines of one’s own house and bedroom. Worn as street wear, they set a precedent for wearing traditionally contextual clothing out of context, breaking social agreements about appropriateness. Eventually, we COULD be wearing bikinis to the office if we condone the “everything, everywhere” mentality that PJs in the wild represents.

Exposing a bra strap may seem harmless enough, and on its own I suppose it is. But wearing a dark or colorful bra beneath a sheer top has become fairly widely accepted, and I’ve seen countless fashion magazines show actual bras worn with blazers and skirts as sanctioned shirt-substitutes. Slip dresses were all the rage in the 90s and bustier-style tops have been worn for ages, but the recent spate of actual underwear as streetwear that I’ve seen in celeb photos and glossy mags makes me wonder if the current choices may lead us to abandoning clothing altogether. (Or, at least, lead to women abandoning clothing altogether.) Another case of specific-use clothing – lingerie – being dragged out of context.

And casual-as-formal may be the most compelling example since it has been encroaching on more and more locations and occasions. It seems that personal comfort has become the most important consideration in all circumstances, regardless of social factors, tradition, and decorum.  If we’re wearing flip flops to the opera today, will we be wearing sweatsuits to our own weddings in 50 years?

Of course I’m sensationalizing and taking my examples to wild extremes, but I’m doing so to make a point and generate discussion. Slippery slopes exist everywhere, even in fashion, and I’m curious to hear if you think any of these three might lead to even more extreme stylistic circumstances. If not these, do you see other sartorial slippery slopes around you? Where might they lead?

REMINDER: Please be respectful and measured in your comments. I realize that this is a hot-button topic, but it CAN be discussed without devolving into harsh statements of judgment. You are absolutely entitled to your opinions and emotions, and we’d all love to hear them, but be as tolerant and kind as possible when expressing them.

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Trying Too Hard

by Sally on April 27, 2011 · 68 comments

The concept of “trying too hard” irks me. People are constantly being criticized for putting forth minimal effort, and yet we censure them for being overly enthusiastic, too. Talk about a lose-lose proposition.

And yet, I’ve gotten several reader questions about “trying too hard” stylistically, and I understand why. When I was 13, I felt certain that simply OWNING and WEARING cool clothes would make me cool … but when I got my hands on an entire Esprit ensemble and wore it to school, I was still shunned. And the feeling I had? Trying too hard. Specifically trying too hard to fit into a group that didn’t want me, trying too hard to adopt a style that had nothing to do with my own tastes, trying too hard to be someone I’d never be.

As an adult, I’m still susceptible to the delusion that buying and wearing cool stuff will make me cool. But I’ve learned that even cool items can become uncool if they clash with the wearer on a personal level. In my opinion, there are three main actions that will trigger that “trying too hard” feeling:

  • Wearing something that doesn’t feel like it aligns with your personal style
  • Dressing specifically to attract attention or garner compliments
  • Crafting looks that feel over-the-top or excessively showy to you

We all do these things on occasion, and they are healthy and normal. How else are we supposed to expand our wardrobes and allow our styles to evolve if we don’t wear items that fall outside our comfort zones? What’s wrong with wearing something we know looks amazing and hoping that friends will dish out a few much-needed compliments? What fun is life if we don’t get glam and dramatic sometimes? Making a habit of any of these three, though, may cause you to feel off-kilter, lost, and potentially like you’re … well, trying too hard.

That said, my guess is that folks who are frequently plagued with worry about their levels-of-stylistic-trying may have to deal with peer scrutiny, a vocal and judgmental friend group, or some form of outside input that creates fears of dressing “the wrong way.” Dealing with someone who verbalizes negative opinions about the dressing choices of others – not necessarily yours, but even celebs or strangers – can give a gal a complex. Because in a neutral or supportive environment, showy outfits generally generate discussion and neither the wearer nor the observers feel compelled to deem them “good” or “bad.” A neutral or supportive environment will often encourage self-expression and see behavioral changes as points of interest instead of potential threats. But a judgmental environment will cause self-consciousness, doubt, and fear of retribution for branching out or rocking the boat.

I believe that confidence is the key to overcoming concerns of trying too hard. If you have a highly vocal peer group to contend with, push yourself – and them – a little at a time. If an entire outfit is too scary, wear one or two pieces that you feel might verge on “trying too hard.” If they draw comments, deflect them with humor. One of my favorite ways to defuse situations is to laugh along with the commenter. “Hahaha, I know! Isn’t this WILD?” tends to work wonders.You’re acknowledging that you’re doing something different, reinforcing that you’re enjoying the exploration, and showing that you have no intention of being cowed into some sort of apology for your tastes and stylistic choices.

Now, if your internal voice is putting a damper on your efforts to explore new avenues of style – if it’s just you who is cooking up fears of trying too hard – here’s my advice: Fake it. Wear items or outfits that feel uncomfortably bold, and pretend like you totally own the looks. Whenever you pass a mirror, look at yourself and say, “I look AMAZING in this!” Walk tall, mind your posture, and smile. Keep it up, on a schedule if necessary: Twice a week, then three times, then four … Eventually, you’ll feel as confident as you look and those worries about trying too hard will begin to dissipate.

Have you ever felt like you were “trying too hard” stylistically? Can you explain why? Were you dealing with negative input from outside sources, or did the feelings come all on their own? How did you deal?

Image courtesy Dave77459.

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Color Rebellion

by Sally on February 25, 2011 · 66 comments

There are several colors that make me look like an insomniac flu victim who just finished running a marathon. Most shades of peach and coral, pale pinks, and certain dusty blues have this effect on my complexion. And I do avoid them, at least up top.

But I just can’t limit myself to a tiny set of über-flattering colors. I CAN’T DO IT. In a world that embraces black and gray with both arms, shuns bright hues, and fears color-on-color mixes, I feel it is my sworn duty to rotate through as many bold shades as I can. Even if they don’t make me look as rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed as possible. I’m a bona-fide color rebel, people. And I’m more than happy to sacrifice a glowy complexion for a constant stream of feedback about my inspiring and cheering color choices. Bold tones make me feel happy, energetic, and alive. And all of those things trump “pretty.”

Are you a color rebel, too? Do you know “your colors,” and stick to them religiously? Know “your colors” and ignore them cheerfully? How do you feel about restricting your wearage to a certain set of shades?

P.S. This photo is from last summer, but I think it qualifies as one of my boldest color mixes EVER. So I used it. Even though my hair is way different now.

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What is Sophistication?

by Sally on January 14, 2011 · 39 comments

Reader Deb wrote to me with this fabulous question:

As a middle-aged woman, I often hear style gurus advise women of my age that we can wear trends as long as we “wear them with sophistication.” I’m happy that age-related style rules (no long hair after 35) are no more, but I’m floundering a little with the sophistication bit, especially sophistication on a budget.

Would wearing just solid colors be more sophisticated? Have you helped any of your clients with this issue? Is sophistication just one of those things that you recognize when you see it, or can it be described?

This is a doozy, but well worth addressing. I think that sophistication – especially in dressing – is ephemeral, difficult to describe, and HIGHLY subjective. It’s an observation that’s tied closely to personal taste, so what appears sophisticated to me may look ghastly to you. But, in my opinion, a few tenets generally hold true:

  • Minimalism: Very few over-the-top styles read as sophisticated. Limiting outfits to a small group of beautifully-designed, high-impact pieces will do the trick.
  • Muted tones: Much as this lover of brights hates to admit it, cool tones, neutrals, and dusky shades generally look more sophisticated (and expensive) than their lighter, bolder cousins.
  • Agelessness: This gets to the heart of Deb’s question. Babydoll dresses and graphic tees generally appear young. Thick nude stockings and quilted coats generally appear old. Items that work well for women of all ages – like basic black skirts, simple ballet flats, and fitted cardigans – convey chic sophistication.
  • Clean lines: Embellishments like ruffles, buckles, embroidery, lace trim and such are deployed sparingly. This ties into the minimalism thing, but is worth calling out as it applies on a piece-by-piece basis.

As for the advice to “deploy trends with sophistication,” my guess is that it’s simply code for “one at a time” or “sparingly.” Which, frankly, is good advice for ALL women or ALL ages! Trends are incredibly fun and I encourage everyone to indulge … but not head to toe. If you love the look of velvet – a forecasted fall/winter trend for this year – try a velvet blazer or scarf instead of a full-skirted velvet dress. And don’t mix trends – wear that velvet piece with classics, instead of pairing it with over-the-knee boots and a cape. I know that sounds like an oversimplification, and it is – but you get the picture. Dip your toe in trends, don’t bathe in them. When you want to deploy a trendy piece, surround it with simple, gorgeous, classic pieces and let it shine.

The more general question of “what is sophistication?” is such a fabulous one that I’m not going to keep it to myself! What do YOU think? And, as Deb asked, do you think that sophistication is just one of those things that you recognize when you see it, or can it be described? What do you think of my guidelines for sophisticated dressing?

Image of sophisticated lady Sigourney Weaver via collider.

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