restingmotion

No Orphans

Despite my intention of making no resolutions or posting goals for 2024, a theme has evolved.  How it plays out is yet to be determined, but I am fine with themes.  Last year's theme was nesting, and the process of nesting yielded many discoveries and a growing sense of comfort within the always evolving themes of where I am in this particular stage of my life.

 

These year's theme seems to be revolving around the idea of "no orphans".  It started as an impromptu idea that I simply didn't want to make things that had no place in my wardrobe, that were orphans.  That means no sweaters that don't really go with anything or have a place in my wardrobe, no clothes I would never wear.  it also apparently means that I need to assess the items I currently own, locate garments that have fallen out of favor, and perhaps find new partners for them.  

 

This is all started with those black pants that I posted about a little over a week ago now.  As I hemmed those pants, and later, the first time I wore them, I reflected on where they fit in my closet and from there to what I things I needed in my closet anyway.

 

Before making the black pants my winter basics included a couple of skirts for dressing up, two pairs of jeans, and a variety of cardigans and jackets that went with none of the above.  In short the black pants were well needed.

 

 I have a small collection of black tops to wear with them, black tops that give me a basic column to wear under sweaters and jackets of various colors.  What you see in the picture, from left to right, are two black tees, one black turtleneck, a silky black tank/shell, and a silk blouse with ruffled collar.  Between them I am probably set for most of my needs.  I could perhaps use a long sleeve black tee or sweater, preferably in a merino wool or cashmere, but I am not likely to knit that, and it will not get as much wear as the other, so it can wait until the perfect something turns up.    

 

The second tee, a. Uniqlo crewneck, is a couple of years old and obviously faded.  it needs to be replaced.  I don't have appropriate black fabric in my stash for a lightweight tee and I like the first tee very much, as it is lightweight, cool in the summer and works as a base layer under winter sweaters.  At roughly $14 from Amazon, it makes more sense just to buy a another copy of that tee.    

 

The silky tank was my mom's, purchased at a time when she had dropped some weight, and later passed to me.  It fits, and fills a hole, but it is polyester, which means it is hot in the summer and cold in the winter.  I need to replace it with silk, something I can do, and would prefer to do.  I do miss the little silk tees and tanks I used to knock out by the dozen.

 

I could probably use a black skirt.  I used to have one, and it was endlessly useful, so that gets added to the list. 

 

What I do not have are any black third layers:  a jacket or a cardigan, and these might also be worthwhile additions to my wardrobe.  Black is still not my best color, but psychologically I have never been able to wean myself away.  There are times I just feel comfortable in black.  A black jacket would allow me to wear colored tees, tops, or sweaters under a jacket, still creating a unified column.  I will likely not knit a fine gauge black cardigan , so that is something else to be on the lookout for.  And since I think a black jacket would be useful, but I am not as interested in putting time into making a beautifully tailored jacket in black, or investing in a beautifully made specimen, I would look for something simpler, and perhaps more causal. I could make something like either of the patterns show below out of black ponte, of which I currently have a good supply in stash as I bought it on sale for pattern testing.

 

 

I made the CJ patterns jacket years ago (decades?) out of cotton/lycra and wore it out.  It was a great travel jacket that saw heavy wear.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I recently purchased the second jacket pattern, Metra Jacket from Love Notions, forgetting I had the CJ patterns jacket, thinking it would be a good project to make with my ponte, and would be a great wardrobe basic to upgrade a casual "at home" outfit to something more polished for running errands etc.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whatever I decide, the black pants are already proving useful, useful enough that I am going to make a second  pair.  This will give me one "core basic set" that I can fall back on while I  work my way through my closet and making other garments.  Although I might be tempted by other things, I need to focus on basics for a bit before branching out to the fun stuff.

 

In the meantime however, in the spirit of no orphans, let me show you how the black core is already working with this year's theme.  Here I am wearing the black pants with the black turtleneck and an alpaca shrug I knitted in 2007 and have kept.  I actually haven't worn the shrug in a few years as the garments that worked with it previously are no longer in my closet.  I find that,  to be comfortable, I need a belt at the waist to balance the shrug.  These high waisted pants give me the opportunity of belting, something I have not had for a few years, and which I miss.  A simple dress with a belt or waist detail would also work.    The shrug doesn't get a lot of wear, but there are days each winter where it is appropriate.  I expect to be wearing it more.

Another "oldie but goodie" that has popped out of the closet is this thick cabled sweater knit in 2001 from a Debbie Bliss pattern using Noro Kureyon.  I've kept the sweater even though there are some winters in Knoxville where it hasn't been worn.  Mostly I've worn it with jeans, but this winter I don't like the look of this sweater with the cut of my current jeans.  The black pants however, work and the combination makes me happy.  This past week, when Knoxville has been covered in snow and beset with freezing weather, I have felt very cozy and warm in this sweater. Below is a not very good picture of me in the sweater, unmade bed and all.  Mastering the art of the self may not be high on my goal list.

So where does that leave me now?

Basic black pants and black tops are ready to wear with a variety of sweaters and jackets .

Two previously orphaned sweaters have found new companions.

Needs:

• 1 new short sleeve tee:  32 degrees cool, ordered from Amazon
• Another pair of black ponte pants, cut high in the waist.
• A black ponte skirt
• A black ponte jacket, particular style still to be determined.
• Replace black polyester tank with silk tank and/or silk tee for warmer weather.
• A black winter-weight cardigan, possibly cashmere, probably to be purchased, but this might change.
• A black summer-weight linen cardigan.  Again probably not hand knit but you never know.  I long ago learned never to say never. I do have a black and brown marled wool and linen cardigan in my closet that might serve here.  To be determined.
• If I stick with the idea of a black core, a black summer skirt, and summer pants would also be useful.
• A black summer dress has long been on the list for the inevitable summer funerals.

It looks like a plan.

 

This is not the only plan.  I am also currently planning and working on an evening capsule.  More on that later.

Musings on a Rainy Friday Morning

It is a gray and rainy fall day, but for the moment at least I am enjoying looking out the window at the way the colors fade away in the gray light.  

It would probably be a perfect day for a fire if I were in my house and could have a fire, but I am not, so glancing dreamy-eyed out the window will have to do.  I have a book and a knitting project to finish, and those things should keep me adequately entertained.  

It was also a good morning for a little experimentation in the kitchen.  I had wanted to attempt the Sweet Potato and Squash Parathas from Sumayya Usmani's Summers Under the Tamarind Tree since buying the Pakistani cookbook last year.  This morning seemed like the perfect time, and I hoped that this recipe would be something that would work as a gluten free option, not at all like traditional parathas or stuffed parathas.  Usmani states in the book that these are more like a griddle scone than a traditional paratha, and I hoped the combination of flavors would make something that could be equally comforting even if not at all like its wheaten brethren.  There is a copy of the recipe online here.  Mine aren't as pretty, and can't be folded over.  The gluten-free dough is more friable, and rolling out didn't work as well as patting, making something closer to a Pakistani-spiced scone than a true paratha, but they are good, and I am content. 

 

As I knit, I have been listening to Vivaldi, reminded of how much I adored Vivaldi when I was a young girl by the fabulous chamber concert Wednesday night at the Knoxville Museum of Art, the first performance of this year's concertmaster series.  In fact the entire program focused on music of the baroque period and it was both very well programmed to provide breadth and depth of interest and very well performed as well.  I don't think I could have imagined a more enjoyable and rewarding evening of baroque music. It felt like a rare treat, although admittedly there were also two separate baroque choral performances in Knoxville during the same week, two performances I missed, although I had planned to attend the Choral Society's concert before I pooped out.  It is indeed a treat to live in a place where there is more on offer than I could ever possibly attend.

 

And speaking of treats, Thursday proved to be another evening of musical indulgence.  After doing a bit of Christmas shopping, already light-hearted and bouncy, I proceeded to a concert by the Seraph Brass for another evening of wonderfully programmed and beautifully performed music.  I heard some works by new-to-me composers and some fabulous reworking of familiar pieces; music that was both lovely and thought-provoking in how it shed new light on music I might otherwise assume I knew.  I also enjoyed the musicality and sensitivity of the playing, even subtlety at times, a word I do not always associate with the brass section, although perhaps I should.

Every year I seem to marvel that both concert season and autumn go hand in hand, my favorite season accompanied by some of my favorite things.  I love the fall colors, the cool mornings and evenings, the music, the ability to add layers again, to indulge in softer colors.  In fact, it seems that, having given away half of my already reduced wardrobe I am rediscovering old favorites, even while adding a few new things, like the sparkly gray and blue necklace above.  

 

In fact I've made a couple of discoveries about myself, one of which is that I like a bit of sparkle more than I had thought.  It is not the glitter I object to, but the brightness. I don't like bright sparkle -- too much jangly color or white put me on edge.  Too much bright feels too forward, and therefore more formal and less like myself; even when I am most dressed, I don't like feeling formal if that makes any sense.  Suddenly I know why certain things are never worn, and it not what I had thought.  Through this new sense of understanding I am thinking I may finally be ready to start seriously sewing for myself again, sewing regularly that is, because I may finally be ready to ask a couple of critical questions.  The two questions that have always been at odds in my creative life are:  "Is this something I want to make just to make it?"  and  "Is this something I actually want to wear." Each has their place, but I haven't always been successful in sussing out the distinctions.

 

After all, I am the woman who once, when asked to introduce oneself to a group with a fact about oneself, chose "I love fog". I love rainy days and crisp cool mornings.  Yes I love color too, but I love the way a gray day makes colors shine in a way completely differently from the bright sunshine.  I love color the way I love music, the way the many layers of subtlety and technique and shading make a greater whole.  I don't want to be hit in the face with the obvious, I want to find the subtleties.  It is true.  I love fog.

 

Continuation

The process of sorting continued last week.  It is almost finished.  Only the coat closet remains.  Aside from that small space, I have tried on every piece of clothing I own and everything has been sorted. Things that fit, both physically and psychologically, have gone back into the closet.  I've rediscovered some new old favorites, including some hand knits I hadn't managed to give away, and I am usually good at giving things away.  There is a small pile of things that need only minor alterations, or which can be reconfigured or reimagined, in a corner of the sewing room.  A few alterations have already been made.  And there is a bigger pile, still in the living room, of garments that need to find new homes.

I bought two new things.  There is a  striped mariner-style tee from J Crew, which works perfectly with the shawl I bought in Scotland last fall.  I wore them Friday for grandparent's day at Owen's school, and ditched the shawl later, as the afternoon warmed, for a game of bocce.  

I also bought a pair of my favorite jeans, J Brand Marias, in deep blue velvet, partially solving my party clothing problem.  I haven't worn those yet, but will. I have been much better of late, better about buying only things I will actually wear, better about adding things to my closet that actually play well with other pieces.  Getting rid of excess also helps.  One of the things I've discovered is that although I don't mind holding on to things for long times, even things I might very rarely wear, I also increasingly become overwhelmed by excess.  My closet was too full, and it was mostly full of things that do not fit and/or I do not wear.  Those garments have voices, and their voices weighed heavily.

 

Some mistakes were made.  I wore a dress to church on Sunday that was too big.  I had only tossed it on briefly, without really looking.  On Sunday the deep u-neckline kept shifting, revealing more than I wanted to reveal.  Luckily I was also cold and was able to employ my jacket and my shawl.  When I got home I took a closer look and realized this dress was never going to work. Aside from the fact that I would need to take 4 or 5 inches out of the bust, I realized that the deep u-shaped neckline was also simply too wide for me.  Yes I could add a seam, yes I could recut the garment into something else, but the more I looked at it the more I realized, that much as I had loved that dress, its time was over.  We had good times together and it was time to move on.  I could use the fabric to make something else, but I didn't love the fabric all that much, and the dress itself would never be the same.  

 

Better to let it all go, to make room for promise and creativity, and to banish the weight of unfulfilled expectation.  Better to let go, and to hold onto that which really works.  I think that is what the whole Marie Kondo movement is getting at.  It is not about being a minimalist if you are not a minimalist, but it is about not selling yourself short, about not accepting something that isn't right or doesn't suit you or make you happy just because of some false sense of expectation and worth.  I have sweaters I may only wear once every 3 years in Knoxville, but every time I wear them I am so completely myself I cannot help but be happy.  They will not go away until they literally fall apart.  I had shirts that looked ok, but weren't right, that filled a role -- that filled the idea of I need x to go with y -- but in which I never really wore, of if I did wear them I never felt comfortable.  Those things were not about me, about my life, but about some expectation of what my life should be.  Far better to banish expectation for only then can you open yourself to joy.

Transition Time

Somehow my blog break was not as productive as I had hoped.  No.  Go back a step.  My blog break was not productive in the ways I had hoped and anticipated....

 

That's more like it.

Fall has finally come to the Knoxville area and I am grateful.  My wardrobe had already started to transition gently.  The wide legs cropped jeans that I had worn faithfully throughout the summer of 2017 came out again.  I didn't wear them at all this past summer, but they felt perfect as the light and the ambiance of the air shifted, even as the heat was recalcitrant.  The summer of 2018 was just too hot, and I was outside a lot, what with moving and tramping around a construction site.  I spent most of the summer in skorts, not the most glamorous look, but then I accept that I am not glamorous, and really just want to be able to be comfortable and move.  There was the skort I knocked off, a skort I bought on sale at REI, and a couple of more that got whipped up before I packed up the sewing room, none of which I managed to share with you.  Probably for the best.

And then, suddenly,  the temperature dropped.  There was a morning in the 40s, upper 40s yes, but still, somewhat chill.  I was ready for my morning walk but a skort would not do.  I needed a vest or sweatshirt; I needed pants. I couldn't find either.  I moved in 90+ degree heat you see.  At that point I couldn't imagine needing a sweatshirt.  Everything that was "not summer" was in boxes on the top shelf of my closet, above my head.  And so I started pulling down boxes.  

 

I bet you can imagine what happened next.

 

I was lazy and in a rush.  Despite the fact that I live in a small apartment, and the step ladder was literally only a few steps away, I did not go fetch the step ladder.  I tried to reach up on tippy toe, I tried to take a small leap and snag those boxes.   All my fall and winter clothes (luckily in canvas boxes) came tumbling down upon me, and my closet became a pile of clothes all jumbled together.  I was probably fortunate that I was not standing under the box of boots.

 

I found a vest before I found a sweatshirt.  I found a 5-year old pair of yoga pants. I didn't find my gloves and my hands suffered.  I walked, went to the farmer's market, rand errands, planned menus and cooked.  

 

I also started to sort out clothes, to shift the closet.  I started to accept something that my head had not quite wrapped itself around.  Looking at that photo, I see the evidence of something my brain and body were telling me, but which I was nonetheless refusing to accept. Although not loose, those yoga pants are not snug either.  Last year they were snug, perhaps even tight.  Ah the joys of stretch.  Before I went to North Caroline for a long weekend at the beginning of my break, frustrated as I was trying to pack, I stepped on my scale and the truth was revealed.  Somehow I had lost 13 pounds since I moved into this apartment.  

 

I was shocked even though the evidence had been all around me.  That first summer skort was falling down over my hips,  but I couldn't accept that because I felt more tired, schlumpy and out of shape.  In my head "schlumpy" and "fat slob" go together, which is not a flattering image I know, or even a flattering thing to admit to thinking about oneself.  There are certain inner voices, deeply imbedded, which we never fully escape.  It did not occur to me that I might feel schlumpy because my clothes were too big. There is a bit of cognitive dissonance going on here, and I know perfectly well that what makes a person feel fat or thin or sexy (a woman? Do men go through the same thing?) often has little to do with actual body size; instead it is shaped by a host of other unrelated psychological and social inputs. Inputs I do not intend to explore here or now.

 

What I did notice, and what prompted me to step on that scale in the first place, was that my pajamas were too big.  I knew the pajama bottoms were loose, and if I moved around too much they could start to slip down.  I had fixed that by shortening the elastic in the waist of the pants, but although they stayed up, they did not hang attractively.  I had not noticed that the tops were also too big, a couple of sizes too big,  and that I looked like a sad old woman in them.  I probably only noticed that because I was going away with family for fall break, because we would be sharing a cabin and because, heaven forbid, someone might see me in my pajamas.  No one ever sees me in my pajamas, a situation I might still hope is not permanent.  Obviously, until last week, I never even saw myself in my pajamas, and that was truly sad state of affairs.

 

As I started shifting the closet to fall and winter, as I started putting away clothes, I started trying things on.  I am still working on that.  Various piles are growing.  There is a pile of things to give away.  There is a smaller pile of things that are too worn, things that should be recycled or thrown away.  The only place I knew of in Knoxville that accepted      fabric for recycling closed, so more research is warranted.  

There is also a pile of things that will work with minor alterations or mending. The boyfriend jeans in the photo above are between 6 and 7 years old.  they were skinnies when I bought them, although not the super stretchy kind.  But they have only needed minor alterations to keep them wearable, and I love them too much.  The gray cardigan from Margaret O'Leary is at least 12 years old,  Last year I kept it in the laundry room, which is usually cold, and wore it only as a robe or a house-sweater.  Last year I felt it was baggy and unattractive, but now I love it again.  Who knew that would happen?  

 

There is a pile of things I love, things that can be easily altered to fit.  I've already made a few alterations. There are things I haven't worn for years that suddenly fit again. I've found five old pairs of pants that I still like, that I haven't been able to wear since George was alive, that only require minor alterations for me to wear them now.  Actually, they just require hemming.  In those days I wore heels.  I practically never wear heels now and am not convinced that heels will be any part of my future life.  I need to be able to make a fast exit.  

 

And those jeans? Those wide-legged crops seen at the top of this post?  In September of 2017 I realized that those jeans were beginning to get a little loose and I searched for a replacement.  I found them on sale and I bought another pair.  This is not an action I normally recommend, and I felt foolish at the time.  The sale pair was 2 sizes smaller than the pair I was wearing, and I could zip them closed only with effort.  But I kept them anyway.  I figured it was a $29 folly and I could always donate them.  I found them this fall, and they fit.  In fact only in trying on the smaller jeans did I see how loose the bigger jeans had become, only in trying on those jeans, larger and smaller, did I actually start to look at what I was wearing and see actually see myself, actually begin to see that I was wearing things I shouldn't be wearing. I am probably still wearing things I shouldn't be wearing.  It is a process after all.  There is still a pile of clothes on the floor.  I am working my way forward.  It is the only way to go.

Summer Wardrobe Additions: A Review

In late June I wrote about whittling down my summer wardrobe and also about purchasing a couple of pairs of new chinos, both shown in that post, here.  Of course now that summer is winding down, and fall has theoretically arrived, it is time to take stock of how those purchases actually played out in terms of what I wore.  Were they worthwhile additions to my wardrobe, or just passing fancies and wasted dollars?

 

Of the two, the yellow was the win, even though it was the least considered of the two.  I wore the yellow chinos all the time, and they seemed to go with almost everything, despite the fact that I am wearing white in the photo above. 

I wore the blue less often.  In fact I mostly wore them working in the garden.  I've always preferred loose, ankle length pants for gardening, and they look good with my blue sun-proof shirt.  They are perhaps an expensive purchase for garden pants, but if they work they work.  However, when a spell of early fall temperatures came through in the first part of September, the pale blue chinos came out of the closet more often.  The yellow seemed so overtly summery, and although the pale blue is a summer color, I could wear them with light sweaters and jackets more easily.  They felt psychologically right as a transitional garment. 

 

However, the chinos only account for half of my summer clothing purchases.  While I was in Anthropologie trying on chinos, I saw a little baby-doll top and took it to the dressing room, certain I would hate it.  I did not, despite all my reservations about grown women in baby doll garments.  It has proven to be a great top for those days when it is so hot and humid that you really don't want anything actually touching your skin, and I convince myself that it looks good as well, although that may be pushing it.  It looks cute layered with a long slim tank over skinny jeans, but I didn't actually wear skinny jeans much during the hot days.  Usually I wore it with shorts when I was just hanging out.  And yes, I actually wore shorts this summer despite the fact that I refused to wear them when I was younger and had better legs.  Perhaps it is true that I just no longer define myself by other people's opinions. 

 

But probably the best purchase, one that rivals the yellow chinos, and might prove a better investment, was a pair of wide-leg cropped jeans with dangling fringes. They are slim through the hips and wide through the legs, reminding me somewhat of gauchos.  But wearing them makes me feel so happy.  I wore them all summer.  I'll probably wear them with boots all fall.  

 

 In some ways all of these garments pushed my sartorial boundaries a little bit, were part of the process of letting go of notions of defining what I should wear by what I understand to be expected.  Not that I am ever going to go way out on a sartorial limb -- I'm more comfortable being an artsy cousin than full, in-your-face bohemian.  But in these garments, and these outfits, I feel most like myself, most confident to negotiate the world, and if the proportions are occasionally "off" by someone else's scale, I find they are perfect for me.  But it took me a long time to accept that the private me could come to terms with the public me.  I liked having a structure of expectation to fall back on.  In the corporate world there are parameters that are not there in the casual world, and I had trouble negotiating that transition. It seems I am finally claiming my  space, my voice, my place.

 

 

 

Summer Closet

Moving offered magnificent opportunity for sorting through the various garments in my closet, something that had somehow previously been difficult.  This seems odd because I am not generally sentimental.  I love living in an old house, I love that I have, and use daily, items made by and/or used by my grandparents and great grandparents, but I don't keep things just because they have history.  I think there is a connection between things and the earth and our lives, but I am not sentimental.  I can usually give away things I've made, or that came down to me from people I know.  My memories are not dependent on the things, and yet the things we surround ourselves with are still a part of who we are.

 

But back to the closet.   I already knew this was my house, and the previous house was just a holding area.  Through finding a house, I also in a sense, found myself, and sorting became easier.  I also knew I would spend a month in transitional housing.  I had two basic goals: 

1) pull out clothes that would see me through that transitional space (May) and the rest of the summer (June-August), therefore giving me time to unpack the house and settle in without having to worry about what I would wear,

and

2) just sort through the clothes and eliminate anything that obviously wasn't working.

 

Dresses were the easiest place to start as they really don't have to match anything else.  The questions were simple: did it fit? Had I worn it? Would I wear it?  A few things were obvious.  A hand-knit alpaca dress was a no-go, despite the fact that I love it, because it is too hot to wear in Knoxville.  Even when it is cold outside, buildings are heated.  That dress suffered the same fate in Hyde Park -- it was too hot to wear in any heated building.  It would be fabulous if I lived in a drafty old castle, or perhaps during a power failure.  Chalk it up to education and move on.  If, when I find myself in my 70s or 80s, I am always cold, I can always knit another dress.

 

Then it was time for everything else.  I started with bottoms, and laid them all out around the master bedroom.  Then I went through everything else in my closet (except undergarments and jewelry) and put it in the appropriate pile, the bottom piece I decided it went best with.  I wasn't worried about pieces that could be used in multiple ways, I was just looking for what worked.  If a stack didn't contain at least three pieces, one bottom and two tops, out it went.  If there was a top that literally went with nothing in that room, out it went.   The pile of widows and orphans was larger than the piles of keepers, and they were all donated, sold, or given away.  What truly surprised me was the way the things that remained complemented each other.  What remained was a wardrobe that looked like it belonged to one person, a wardrobe where most of the pieces would work together rather than against each other.

 

I stacked the things that would work for late-spring and summer on the bed and packed everything else. This is what was left, 35 pieces of clothing (I'm not counting shoes or scarves here). Less two pairs of pajamas, each of which I counted as one piece, one swimsuit, and four summer dresses, I was left with a wardrobe of 28 mix-and-match pieces to cover every activity from working-out to dressing-up.

The wardrobe has worked fairly well.  Three pieces that were needed for a trip to Chicago in early May, pieces which contained wool, were swapped out upon my return.  They were replaced by three t-shirts, purchased at Uniqlo, also while in Chicago.

      

A few things didn't work.  They gray cardigan in the center of the picture doesn't thrill me anymore and I don't enjoy wearing it. Another, more fitted, sweater has taken its place.    The deep periwinkle shorts, and lighter periwinkle shirt, which were already pretty heavily worn, got covered in paint and retired. A favorite, lightweight sweatshirt, perfect for early mornings or cool evenings, progressed from threadbare-but-still-in-one-piece to tatters.  The remaining clothes work together well, and my wardrobe does not feel at all limiting or restrictive.  If anything, it feels incredibly generous.  I probably wear more of my clothes now than I did when there were more clothes in my closet.

Or at least it didn't feel restrictive until the last week or two.  As we progress into summer heat, navy woven slacks and dark jeans feel hot and heavy, at least psychologically.  I wanted something lighter and a touch of midsummer madness set in.  I went shopping, ostensibly looking for something white or off-white but ending up with acid yellow and pale blue chinos, both from Anthropologie, shown above and below.  They actually work better in my wardrobe than white would have. I counted six different outfits that work with the yellow, and at least another four for the blue chinos, if not more. The navy slacks are out until September; the dark jeans remain, with reservations.

I've learned a few things.  I've got a better sense of what I like to wear and have a wardrobe that supports that reality.  I am not, ultimately concerned about numbers in the closet.  Although I started with 35 garments, I am not really interested in adhering to rules, or adhering to a program like project 333.  Even though I am talking about clothes for 3 to 4 months, this wardrobe is not 1/4 or 1/3 of my wardrobe.  Although there are a handful of garments that are only worn one season, most of these clothes are worn at least through three seasons, if not all year.  These 35 garments represent half my complete wardrobe in its current state, and hopefully eventually will represent more than half.  Even in this America, land of overstuffed closets, it feels like a lot. But as I said, I am not really interested in numbers but in use, and it is not about whether I have more than some (I do) or less than others (also true).  I want the things I have to work for me; I do not want to be a slave to them. 

 

Through this whole process I learned that my closet is still too heavily weighted toward winter clothes.  Of course, I like winter clothes more than summer clothes, and I moved here from New York State, where winter was a much more significant season than summer.  Still, I am aware I have too much.  When we move into winter, I will repeat this process, and winnow the collection down to the things that really work here, for the life I have now.  Choice is a privilege after all 

 

But, although there is no point in keeping basic things that I don't wear, I'm not going to give up something special just because it is worn only rarely.  A silk party dress that only comes out occasionally stays, as will two bulky hand knit sweaters that I may wear only once or twice a winter, if we have a cold winter, and not at all if it is warm.  They are going to stay until they fall apart because I love them so, because I panic when I can't find them.  But these items aren't just another back pant, another gray turtleneck, another basic in a sea of basics.

 

I do think the whole process of packing and unpacking, the process of moving, has really made me think about what I have and why I have it.  I don't really need a bunch of things for "just in case". In my dream wardrobe perhaps I'll have fewer basics, the 28 may be reduced to 15 or 20, or not.  Basics can always be replaced after all, and more special pieces that make those basics sing. But there is no point to clothes that sing only in the closet, behind closed doors. Better to have what I use and use what I have. Better to have what I need and to use what I love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three things on a Tuesday Morning

This will be a really brief update, as I am trying to get through a bunch of stuff I let pile up.

The tiny species crocuses are up, each one about the size of a 1 1/2 teaspoon measuring spoon. The iris histroides are also continuing to pop up, and continuing to make bring a big smile to my face each time I walk by.

On Sunday I wore the new gray boots I bought in NYC.  Here I am propping my legs up on my still too-cluttered desk late Sunday afternoon.  We walked by the store on our way from the subway stop to the Metropolitan Museum, although we didn't stop at that time.  However the boots firmly lodged themselves in my mind, and distracted my thoughts, so I dragged Liana back with me to take a second look.    Gray is a much more versatile color in my wardrobe than black.  A pair of black boots is being culled, although they may be set aside and sold early next fall.  It really isn't boot season anymore.  The black down coat, which I did not take to New York with me, will also be sold.

I got caught up with mail and bills and miscellaneous bits of paper yesterday, so the surface of my desk is more user-friendly. These are new books that I picked up at MacKay Used Books here in town.  I sold more books than I bought, so I am doing well on the book front as well at the moment.  I haven't started reading any of them yet; I'm still woking my way through Niall Ferguson's Kissinger biography.  Maybe soon.  Perhaps it will be warm enough this week to read Annie Dillard out in the sunshine.

 

 

 

 

 

A Few Highlights From the Past Week

My new sneakers arrived (mentioned previously), which allowed me to walk further.  I have decided that although neutrals are good for street shoes, I like my athletic shoes to be as bright as possible.  No sleek sneaks for me.  Or maybe I've just finally accepted that  I'll never be sleek and therefore don't have to worry about it.  There is a certain freedom in that, much like the freedom that came with accepting that my Uncle Dick may have been right and I'll never have style.  If I'll never have "it" whatever "it" is, I don't have to worry about "it".

What a relief.

 

It was bitterly cold on Wednesday.  And although I don't really like bitter cold, it gave me a rare opportunity to wear a favorite Icelandic-style sweater I knit long ago, in the late 1990's.  This sweater is knit in thick brushed cashmere, not an original idea, as I was inspired by similar cashmere sweaters in one of the French RTW collections.  I don't remember the details, which is one of the reasons I originally started a knitting blog.  Even though I had doubts about whether or not I'd ever have the opportunity to wear this sweater in Knoxville, and it is not really my colors, I still love it.

I also started baking again this week.  Even though I somewhat underestimated how much time I needed, the process of baking was thrilling and invigorating.  Sharing something delicious with others is always good.   I made two carrot cakes.  The first was a test.  But it was still delicious, with only minor tweaks necessary, that were more related to presentation than taste.  It is not quite traditional, as it has a French Meringue buttercream instead of cream cheese frosting.  But delicious nonetheless.  Both cakes disappeared.  And I forgot to take a picture until the very end. 

 

We got some more snow on Friday, and it was snowing when we took our morning walk.  I love the sense of quiet and peace of snowfall.  We walked and romped and played a bit in the snow, me pretending to be a small dog, squatting and kneeling as we jumped and fluffed snow in each other's faces.  Tikka accidently slipped into a small dip in the grass and ended up covered, as she got up and shook the snow out of her fur she slipped and slid a few inches, wide-eyed, discovering the joy of the taste of snow, and the excitement of prancing in clouds of fluff.  I think we both enjoyed the snuggle upon coming in even more, me with a cup of coffee, Tikka wrapped in a towel in my lap.

 

Alas the snow is no more and the weekend shall be busy.  But there is always time for a cuddle and a cup of coffee.

winnowing and consolidating

On the evening before I realized I was coming down with a cold I came home chilled to the bone.  I wanted nothing more than to find a favorite oversized, thick, cashmere sweater and curl up into a ball in a comfy chair.  But I couldn't find the sweater in question, a bulky Icelandic-style sweater that I had knit in the late 90s using a lusciously light and soft cashmere yarn.  For a moment I was distraught.

 

But I remembered that I had either given it away or sold it on ebay.  The sweater was too heavy for me to wear here, my house is never cold enough, and the color was not good either, camel, and oatmeal and gray.  Even though I had loved and worn this sweater for many years, I didn't love wearing it anymore, and it was well-past time to share the love. 

 

Once I remembered all this, I was content.  I realized that I wasn't really looking for that particular sweater, I was looking for the snuggly warmth and coziness it represented.   I could wrap myself up in a cozy blanket, or layer thinner sweaters.  I can even knit another sweater in a shape and colors I like better now.  That sweater was a part of my past, a treasured part, yes, but nonetheless past.  I don't need to hold on to that sweater.

 

It seems strange to me in a way that now, when I am not writing about style all that much, or fashion or clothing, I am focusing so much on the details of what I wear.  My closet keeps shrinking, and the process of refining is ongoing.  Perhaps the winnowing and the not-writing are related.   But it seems odd that in this time when I am focused the least on what is going on the wold of fashion and style, I am focused the most on what is essential in my own closet.  Where is that taking me?  I don't really know.

 

Or is this process of winnowing and consolidating, or creating a space that is both personal and essential a necessary step in being able to explore creative impulses, in being able to go out into the world and do good? I always knew that home represented sanctuary to me, but I have in fact rarely embraced that impulse.  Perhaps I am doing so now.  Perhaps, as usual I am over-thinking, struggling with my own personal tortured path to learning to let go.

 

I only know that at this moment this is what I want my wardrobe to be.  I want to be enveloped in these colors. I am sure that the spectrum will flow and evolve over time, as will the details of the pieces, shapes, and structures.  I am willing to move slowly only because it seems that whenever I seem to think I know exactly where I am going, I learn that I have misread a sign and wandered off the path. There are days when I wonder where this path will lead, if anywhere.  Today seems to be one of those days.  But perhaps that is really just congestion speaking, and eventually my brain and my path will clear.

 

Of Clothes and Questions and Preparing to Sew

I've been stuck on a few basic conundrums of late:

• My closet has been shrinking as I narrow my choices down to items and combinations that I love and in which I feel completely myself, as if the person I am and the clothes I wear are seamlessly one. And yet I love to sew, love to make clothes, and have a wall of fabric that is calling my name.  How do I reconcile the "more" of sewing with my steady move to "less but more loved"?
• Several garments I've knitted in the past few years have been epic fails -- fun to knit, lovely to look at, but completely wrong when I am wearing them. I don't regret making them, mistakes are part of life, but I also need some successes, and that is difficult unless I can figure out where I am going wrong.
• How do I reconcile the me that loves beautiful fabrics and beautiful objects and dressing up sometimes with the me that would be perfectly happy with wash and wear hair and an old shirt, ratty jeans, and sneakers?
• If I am going to sew and knit, and write about sewing and knitting garments, how do I go back go posting photographs of myself wearing said garments given my own discomfort with self-photography and the fact that I have fairly successfully (I hope) avoided this very issue for some time now?

 

I haven't come up with answers to all those questions yet.  I suspect it is a lifelong project.  But I did make a huge leap forward in my understanding.  Oddly enough, this new revelation is something I have known about a long time, and used, but which for some reason, just really clicked in a deeper way in the past couple of weeks.

What am I talking about?  The Golden Ratio of course.

 

It isn't new.  I've been aware of the golden ratio for a long time, as well as its many applications.  Aside from its prevalence in the natural world and its applications in architecture, the golden ratio is also often used when discussing proportion and style in fashion.   Sometimes it is simplified into the 3:5 rule or the 5:8 rule.  Some people play fast and loose and just use "the rule of thirds" which isn't actually as effective, at least not for me.  But I digress. 

 

What is different now?  Well, truthfully I hadn't thought about the golden ratio in a while, at least not in terms of how it relates to my own appearance and clothing.  In fact, there was a period where I could have gone out in a paper bag and not cared, but that was the world of grief and depression and confusion. Thankfully I am past that.   When I was young I was also so blinded by what I didn't like about myself and my self-perceived flaws, that I couldn't see what was good.  I used the golden rule, but I used it as a tool of manipulation and shadows.  I never really understood how it could work for me. Age has a way of bringing wisdom, at least if we are willing to open the door.

And so it happened that one evening, when I was tired but not yet ready for bed, I was simultaneously flipping through a design book and half-watching TV when something about the golden-ratio clicked.   Not only did I make the connection between the golden ratio and the outfits I loved (and why I loved them) but it was suddenly clear why a few favorite pieces just weren't working. 

 

I ended up spending that evening in measuring and calculating and then rearranging my closet and testing my theories, all with great success.  I am sure I could not have been more elated if I had found the holy grail. I learned a few things about myself, including the ways insecurities blind us and cloud our judgment.   But I also found greater a greater appreciation of my own preferences and peccadilloes.  I don't believe that any one of us has to define ourselves, our sense of beauty, or our comfort levels, by some outside perception "ideal" or "rule" of how we should look, and once I accepted my own sensibilities, I could see that there is a pattern here as well, a pattern of where proportion matters dearly, and where I am more than willing to play fast and loose. 

 

For reference I am using this photo from my sewing blog circa August 2010.  It is a great example of the proportions of the golden rule (why didn't I know this?) The colored rectangles were added now, and I ask your forgiveness for my ineptitude in PhotoShop.  Nothing is exact.  Mea Culpa.

This is what I learned:

The Golden Ratio is 1.618

I am 68 inches tall.  The distance from my waist to the floor is 42 inches. If I divide my total height by 1.618 I get 42 inches. (see green bar on the left side of the photo. The length of the skirt, at 26 inches is the total distance from my waist to the floor divided by 1.618.  The same is true for the top.  The distance from the top of my head to my shoulder line, and the distance from shoulder to waist  works out to the golden ratio. 

 

If you look at the purple bars on the right of the photo, my preferred dress length is 1.618 of my total height.  The distribution between skirt and t-shirt also breaks down to the golden ratio.  This is so much fun! 

 

But this outfit is from 5 years ago.  Even though I was 20 pounds heavier then, my waist was proportionately smaller.  I don't know that I will be wearing a similar outfit again, but I've also learned never to say never.  The prospect of dresses and skirts is looking more and more enticing.

 

This summer I've been wearing pants and soft shirts.  Both of the two photos showing me in pants fit the golden ratio scenario as described above.  I know this is a gross simplification, just as I know the turquoise tunic plays a bit fast and loose with those rules. And perceptions of proportion vary depending on whether one is wearing pants or a dress, vary with width and shape as well as length.  But having a few simple guidelines is helpful: one can follow the guidelines or chose not to follow them, but it is the structure itself that allows for intentionality.

 

I'm not sewing yet, aside from some simple machine testing.  But I have wildly unrealistic plans of sewing a dress before an upcoming trip.  Considering that my plans are far more complicated than can likely be accomplished in the available time, it is unlikely that the dress will be finished on time.  If anything that is a relief as I have both incentive, but also freedom from the stress of a deadline.  I have freedom to play.