The Dance

I love layering. I do. I love the layered look. I love being able to pack four colors into a single outfit. And – as someone who is still a mite shy of showing tons of skin – I LOVE being COVERED UP! So I’m happy as a sweater-wearing clam right now, during tights-and-scarves-and-cardis season.

Except for one thing: Constant layer migration.

I have to yank my tights up as high as possible so the waistband doesn’t fall directly into my tum-divet, causing unsightly tum-protuberance. And that means yanking them almost up to my bra line.

I have to situate my slip – which is a black, supershort, elastic-waistband half-slip – so that it, too, falls as far from the tum-divet as possible. But my slip must also keep my skirt from doing its crumpled-paper-bag imitation right in front of my thighs when I walk. So it’s typically hiked waaaaaay down. Like, just above my ladyparts.

THEN I have to deal with my skirt. And because of all that slippery stuff underneath – smooth tights and slick slip – it wants to perch up near my armpits. I try to convince it to stay put, but it roams.

And sometimes there’s even a cami involved.

So, all day long, I do The Dance. Yanking the tights skyward, easing the slip downward, tucking the cami back in, forcing the skirt into place by pushing on it from inside the pockets. Every trip to the restroom affords me the opportunity to properly rearrange and realign. And as I leave the restroom, I always think, “Maybe THIS time, it’ll all stay put.” But, girls, it never does. And even when I’m not actually doing The Dance, I still move a little differently because of how everything on my bod is busily sliding around. I must look like I have an itchy rash.

I realize that larger tights might not migrate down, and a full slip wouldn’t subdivide my flab. But I’ve gotta make do with these tools for now, and that’s completely fine. But perhaps I should try clipping my tights to my bra? Pinning my slip to my skirt hem?

Or perhaps I should simply make sure that I only do The Dance in the bathroom. OK, and the stairwell. And maybe my cube when I’m sure no one’s looking …

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For Whom Are You Dressing


You flip through catalogs and magazines. You browse around clothing and accessory shops, both in person and online, and make choices about which pieces to incorporate into your own wardrobe. You peruse the style blogs and note tempting trends and bold pairings. And then you open your closet door to choose the day’s outfit.

Who is your audience? For whom are you dressing?

Obviously, the answer will change depending on the woman, the day, the activity. Also potentially at play: Age, mood, season, and other individualized factors too numerous to count. There is no single answer to this question, and there is no WRONG answer, either. When I asked this question of myself, I realized that, like so many theoretical stylistic queries, it leads me to goals rather than maxims.

On a regular work/life day, I dress to engage. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I dress to draw attention, but I rarely dress to blend in and thoroughly enjoy the interactions that my outfits can generate. I’m the kind of person who, when offered a compliment, gushes on about where I got the shoes/skirt/necklace in question and quickly jots down the retailer, price, website, and any other pertinent details so my complimentor can get one of whatever it is for herself. I absolutely love to engage people in dialogue about style and clothes and looking good.

I also STRIVE to dress to please myself. I can’t pull it off all the time, but I do make a goal of it. There are days when I must dress to please my clients, or the Minnesota Weather Gods, or my bloated-by-PMS body, or my in-laws. There are days when I dress because I want to look pretty or unusual or interesting in order to pull myself out of a funk. There are days when I dress to impress my cats, who love nothing more than a good sweatsuit. But the older I get, and the more I learn about myself and my personal style, the more I strive to dress only for myself.

I don’t feel like I have never dressed to impress men. At least not in any traditional way. I lack cleavage, a flat stomach, and slender legs. As a young, single girl who heard everything the media told me about heterosexual attractiveness, it never occurred to me that a body lacking these features should or could be dressed provocatively. (I was a very different person back then, of course.) So I just didn’t bother. I still got dates, but it had nothing to do with what I was wearing. Which was mostly denim overalls and beat-up Doc Martens.

But many women do dress to impress men or other potential sexual partners. And since women can be quite competitive with one another, much has been written about our tendency to dress to impress – or even outdo – our fellow ladies. Anyone who feels she doesn’t dress to please anyone at all is likely dressing to please herself. Countless potential audiences exist and countless motivations underlie our choices. Although dressing exclusively to please others without giving a thought to your own taste, comfort, or preference strikes me as somewhat limiting, I’m inclined to reserve judgment. Some lives have more constraints than others, constraints that may stem from rigid work dress codes, harmful social prejudices, or other influential forces. Some people may not have the option to dress to please themselves, while others may view dressing as a tool for catalyzing action rather than a tool for self-expression. I would love to see a world in which we can all dress for ourselves, but am all too aware that we’re not there yet.

Figuring out how you want to look – and how to make that look a reality – is a long process. An ongoing process, even. And sifting through the desires that are truly yours from the ones that are thrust upon you can be challenging. But we can all strive. We can all ask ourselves when we pull open the closet door: For whom am I dressing today? And WHY?

Image courtesy Fani Tsakiridou

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Reader Request: Thrift Tips

Lovely reader N. sent me this question a while back:

I love the idea of thrift store shopping … But I need to know how to do it successfully. I like the stuff I see at thrift stores, but most of them don’t have a place to try things on and I have been burned on fit with no refunds/exchanges. Can you suggest ways to analyze an item without trying it on to see if it’s going to work? Are there ways to tell what items would be easier to alter (and therefore less costly to alter)?

I’ve shopped thrift since … well, since forever. I’ve never been squeamish about buying used garments, and the bargain hunter in me loves pulling treasure from other people’s trash. I wouldn’t deem myself an expert just yet, but I’m getting there. So I’ll take a stab at this to get the ball rolling, and ask that any Mistresses of Thrift out there chime in with comments!

Very few of us can successfully shop unknown brands, items from eras long past, or garments meant for our quirkyest body parts without trying them on. Although many thrift stores have cottoned on and offer shoppers a handful of dressing rooms, some expect you to make decisions sans privacy. For instance, here in the Twin Cities, the Unique Thrift chain typically offers one broom-closet-sized fitting room and many full-length mirrors scattered throughout the aisles. On any given trip, you’ll find folks in various states of undress squeezing themselves into potential purchases while scrutinizing themselves in narrow mirrors clamped to fixture ends.

Since very few thrift stores accept returns or exchanges, you need to be sure. If not sure that whatever it is will actually fit you, at least sure that you’re not going to have a major coronary if you get it home and it doesn’t. But there are a few things you can do to prepare for shopping in a dressing room free-zone:

  • Layer: Wear a white or neutral cami under your blouse or sweater so you can try on cardigans, jackets, and anything that buttons or zips up easily and quickly.
  • Skirt: You can slip a pair of pants or another skirt underneath the skirt you wore in and no one will glimpse your bits. You can also slip a dress on overhead and get a good idea if it fits, even plastered over a skirt. If you’re in pants, which are typically bulky around the waist, gauging fit is much trickier.
  • Leggings: I will never concede that leggings can pass for pants, but since they are made from actual cloth and are completely opaque, they can serve as MAKESHIFT pants in a trying-crap-on-in-the-aisles situation. If you’re really worried about anyone getting a peek at your ladyparts, slap on some leggings underneath your skirt and you’ll be a paragon of modesty. Kinda.
  • Slip-on shoes: If you’re hunting for footwear, you’ll want easy access to your tootsies.

If you simply can’t stomach getting quasi-naked in the middle of a thrift store aisle, you can train yourself to eyeball items for decent fit. You’ll never be 100%, but a little practice can help hone your visual judgement. Pick out five perfectly-fitting tops from your own closet. Try to select from several categories of top, such as blouse, sweater, tee, cardigan, and/or jacket. Then pick out a top that is either very fitted or actually too small. Pick out a top that is either very boxy or actually too large. Set perfectly-fitting top number one on your bed, and place the too-small top next to it. Swap in perfectly-fitting top number two, three, etc. Then do the same thing with the perfectly-fitting tops and the too-large top. By the end of this drill, you should have a vague idea what a top that would fit you looks like. Repeat with skirts and pants. And just to reiterate: This ain’t foolproof, but it should help.

Measure your shoulder width, actual boobs, below boobs, narrowest part of waist, widest part of hips, and inseam. You can also measure garments that fit you perfectly – which is especially helpful if you prefer that your skirts and dresses hit your leg at a specific spot. Write your stats on a cheat sheet, bring your handy dandy tape measure shopping with you, and measure garments in the corresponding spots. If measuring flat, be sure to multiply by two. Now this method may seem like it should be foolproof, but it isn’t. You are unlikely to get completely accurate measurements with your tape, and factors such as garment age and spandex content may confound. Truly, the only foolproof method is to actually try the dang thing ON. But checking the numbers will get you in the ballpark, and is somewhat more accurate than eyeballing.

Everyone has their own rules about what should be avoided and embraced at thrift outlets. Some are more squeamish, or more crafty, or thrift for different purposes … but I think these guidelines will be helpful to a thrifting novice who is shopping for 100% wearable items:

  • Don’t buy anything damaged that you can’t mend yourself: Exceptions are gorgeous designer finds that can be salvaged with the help of a tailor … but these are few and far between.
  • Don’t buy anything stained: If it’s truly stained, that means permanent. So what’s the point?
  • Don’t buy anything from fast-fashion retailers: It’s only going to be a buck or two cheaper than new, and someone else has already worn it for much of its short life. I’m no brand snob, but I AM a quality snob. Something that has been made cheaply and worn for a while isn’t going to fare well in your wardrobe. Exceptions happen – especially for things like coats, accessories, and other more durable goods. But generally speaking, thrifting fast fashion isn’t the best use of your money.
  • Don’t buy anything remotely intimate: Undies, socks, tights … even slips and mufflers are suspect. I am one of the least germophobic people I know, but even I have limits! Dry cleaning can help, but dry cleaning is expensive, so just be sure to figure that in.

I am not a huge fan of purchasing used clothes and then laying down to have them tailored, as the collective cost approaches buying new … but sometimes it’s worth it. Occasionally a nearly perfect item presents itself, and if it’s super high-quality, enlisting a professional’s help to make it completely perfect is a good investment. I’m hoping that you sewing experts can help me out with this one, but here are my thoughts on features that make an item costly or difficult to alter:

  • Avoid pleats: I hate pleats anyway, but if you’re a fan, just be aware that these make tailoring tricky, regardless of garment type.
  • Skirts over pants: Skirts are fairly simple constructions, generally speaking, and will be simpler to shorten, take in, or let out a skirt than a pair of pants.
  • Avoid embellishments: Anything that sports embroidery or embellishment of any kind near a seam is going to cause probs.
  • Dresses are costly: A good dress is hard to find and the right one will be worth the dough, but unless you merely want a hem taken up, getting a dress altered is going to be laborious and expensive.
  • Avoid coats: Tailoring a coat is VERY expensive. If it doesn’t fit in the shop, don’t bother.

Used clothing is sold at several levels, and you can adjust your price-range and quality-range by limiting yourself to stores that fit your personal parameters. Most large metro areas will offer thrifting at all of these levels, but you’ll have to do some legwork to discover which are which on your home turf.

No-frills: The bottom of the thrifting heap – sometimes literally – will put you in an unadorned space stocked with unsorted racks or bins of clothing, shoes, and accessories. You are left to your own devices to hunt and peck. Here in the Twin Cities, this means G-Too/Values By the Pound, a Goodwill outlet also affectionately referred to as “Diggers.” A dimly-lit warehouse where rejects and unsold merch from regular Goodwill stores goes to meet its final fate, Diggers features several person-high piles of stuff brought in by dumptruck. Clothing is sold by the pound. Not for the faint of heart, but fantastic for the scarce of money.

Slightly better: Racks are roughly organized by item type, but rarely by size or color. Stores at this level don’t typically feature fitting rooms, and the offerings are in any state from broken-in to ruined. Twin Citians, think Salvation Army on Central Ave.

Good: Slightly more accurate and helpful organization of merch and a possibility of fitting rooms, these stores offer slightly higher price points alongside their improved facilities and services. Fitting rooms are still a hit-or-miss by location, but you’ll find some brand new items sprinkled in among the oldies, and some bona-fide bargains … so it’s worth a trip. TC folks, I put Goodwill and Unique in this category.

Even Better: With guaranteed fitting rooms and stock organized by size and color, this is the level at which I thrift most comfortably and successfully. A few stained and torn items are mixed in, but merch is generally in great condition. Locals will find that ARC’s Value Village and Savers outlets fit this bill.

Best: Now, “best” in this context means no flaws or damage to speak of, reputable labels, and helpful staff … but it also means much higher prices. Consignment boutiques and upscale vintage stores fit into this category, and if you’re hunting for true bargains, you should aim a few levels down. But if you’re seeking covetable vintage (Via’s) or upscale labels at slightly lower prices (Turn Style), this is the level for you.

What other tips would you offer to N.? Other thrift-expert blogs or resources we should all know about? Pipe up, my pretties!

(Image courtesy empracht)

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