My mother and I bought this on one of our back-to-school ritual shopping outings: During the first week of August of every year, Nordstrom has it’s Anniversary Sale where they bring out all the new Fall merchandise and price it at 40% off. Once the sale goes away in another two weeks, so do the clothes, only to come back a few weeks later a full price. So needless to say, a few weeks before the first day of school and the week before my birthday, we had to take part in this event. Of course, I wore uniforms to my school, but looking good at the football game on opening night was just as important as that perfect “back to school” outfit. I don’t remember loving this the first time I picked it out, and I’m still not really sure what drew me to it or my mother, as it is quite plain in style, and somewhat dated with that typical, thicker ribbed-knit look of the late nineties sweater, but to this day I have let it sit in my closet for eight and a half years now without throwing it to consignment wolves or charity trashcans, and, “Why?” might you ask, seeing as it’s seemingly dull appearance doesn’t seem to fit in the closet of a luxury clothing sales woman and stylist…well, little do my clients know when they buy the McQueen and Gaultier and Oscar from me that their little sales girl all dressed up in Japanese and European avant-garde clothing at the time has a total soft spot for everything vintage, straight-up granny. I feel like I have three different clothing personalities; some people only have one and know it and stick to it like a chiffon dress to your legs on a winter day in Chicago, others change from time to time, and some are just all over the god-damn place. A white Bebe track suit one day, to elegant McQueen gowns the next, greasy and paint-splattered jeans and hair art student to gold, flashy Euro-trashy the next night; some people just don’t know who they are. I; however, am still figuring it out, but have at least have narrowed it down to three, and any combination thereof. The first, coming from my line of work, Japanese and European avant-garde clothing, mostly anything with an asymmetrical hemline, misplaced buttons or zippers, and of course, black, black, and more black with the occasional slip of navy blue or a variation on a white button-down shirt. Next, straight up Granny. I know. How could someone who spends all day with Yohji Yamamoto, Alexander McQueen, and Azzedine Alaia even imagine dressing in her granny’s skirts, tops, sweaters, and shoes? And I don’t mean in the “vintage” look: I’m talking straight up Granny from 1980-1990 – oversized poly blouses with huge belt buckles and mid-calf, unflattering skirts, dumpy flats and to top it off, my “Ethel” glasses, as I’ve come to affectionately call them. These are the glasses I found while working at my Wicker Park consignment store in college; they have huge, thin silver frames that loop around with fake diamond sparkles on the outside edges, pearl and tortoise shell bands on the sides of the face and they are of course my own prescription. The lady at LensCrafter gave me a “I’ve never seen crazy like you before” look when I handed them proudly over to her so she could measure the size for the lenses. Yes, it must seem like sacrilege to chose the mustard yellow, oversized Grandpa (yes, sometimes Grandpa style, too) sweater and white perforated penny loafer flats over the Marc Jacobs sweaters and Lanvin skirt, but I believe that Marc and Alber probably understand where I’m coming from – there is beauty in everything, and yes, even Grandma. I feel as though my choice to dress that way comes from my close connection to my grandmothers at an early age and a need to identify myself with my heritage. So judge me all you want, but Granny is it for me. Along with of course the dressed up version of Granny: vintage lady-like: A-line or pencil skirts, cream blouses with high necks and embellishments of embroidered or bead work are encouraged and appreciated, fitted waists of the 40s and 50s, drop waists, pleats, fringe, and feathers of the 20s, or empire and A line from the 60s, but still, no flashy prints or colors, save for the occasional nautical striped blouse or sundress and still mostly black, blue, cream or white and maybe a splash of red thrown in too. So through all that, I try to buy and save according to the kinds of clothes I know I’ll wear the most – and back to the simple, plain-Jane brown ribbed turtleneck, I just can’t let go of it as the perfect 60s school girl top to wear underneath a woolen jumper dress with shinny brass buttons at the shoulders and hand-stitched pockets at the front! But every time I try and buy a jumper that I think will complete the outfit fantasy for me, it just ends up looking more like 90s school teacher than 60 school girl…not so good. So I’ve finally decided that a) I don’t wear brown and b) I’ll never find the dress to go with it much less wear it alone. So it has to go. And with it, a little bit of my vintage 60s fantasy style. Sigh.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
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