Nov 26 2011

In the black.

November 26th, 2011

This is the year I will (probably, pretty likely, almost positively) buy a pair of cowboy boots.

They will most definitely be new for me but THEY will not be new.  Baby, this is a perfect example of when to hit the consignment shops. And men, give it some thought, too.

My consignment shop finds to date include  a black leather jacket, fitted wool jacket with perfect lapels for  broaches, lace up boots that looked like they stepped out of my DJ Lafon painting Remembrance and a vintage evening dress that I can wear  fearlessly to any cocktail party knowing I won’t see myself coming and going.

A good outfit is priceless and timeless. And when you want to experiment with a new look, trim the investment by shopping consignment or the sales rack  so a misfire doesn’t send you back to “safe” purchases forever. It’s up to you if you reveal your sources.  It is fashionable to be a smart shopper and sometimes deliciously satisfying knowing flattery can’t include copying.

Save your money.  Support the local economy and shop without going into the red.

May 20 2011

In the closet.

Portland is a city of hoods.  I am not talking about gangs or quaint residential areas but something very practical:  rain gear. For the majority of the year I’d be miserable, instead of fairly unfazed, if not for my tried and true, knee-length, lined, washable (ignore the label), black hooded raincoat.  Carry an umbrella around and people assume you are either a tourist or a Californian.

Ditching an umbrella is even more practical in Oklahoma where stronger winds blow heavier rains sideways.  In the Tulsa Airport I spotted a woman in my very same raincoat.  “Norm Thompson?” I paused to ask.  “Yes!” was the reply.  We’d both shopped online two years earlier – while both living in Portland.   What are the chances?

Raincoats don’t seem to go on sale in the Northwest (I have my cap set for a Mycra Pac full-length, if they do) but they are retired to the closet during the dry season.  I was hanging my faithful companion up this month when I noticed my wedding dress.

Call me curious. I decided to try on the dress I hadn’t worn for almost 23 years to the day.  On our first anniversary I was pregnant and outfitted in a lovely, shimmery tent, but on our second anniversary I switched out the white wedding day pumps for silver evening shoes and headed to a Tulsa Opera spring production, elegantly dressed in a tea-length, strapless gown.  If only bridesmaid dresses in the late 80’s had been so, well, so – practical!

As I slipped into the dress I imagined an extra three pounds of weight would show as much in a dress as under a hooded raincoat.   I was wrong!   Above my waist the two sides of the zipper didn’t have a chance of meeting.  Unless the gravity factor associated with aging and weight gain has reversed itself, I can only reason that my rib cage has expanded over the years to fit the much bigger, fuller, compassionate heart that once belonged to a young woman just opening her heart to love.

May 18 2011

Work of art in progress.

At a certain age you get honest with yourself and decisions become easier.

Never would I stick with wearing a retainer for the rest of my nights.  A month, tops – maybe.  I survived gagging on the dentist’s mold goop only to find out braces alone wouldn’t give me a Hollywood smile.  It worked for our son, born with the same narrow jaw, high smile line…  an off Broadway set of ivories. I resisted asking if it had anything to do with my age.

To improve my looks at 52, I shut my mouth and picked two alternates that didn’t come with more long-term debt.  I am writing about them because you might want to consider one or both or share details with a woman in your life because every woman deserves to feel pretty, something my mom said I’d never be.  “Handsome,” she told me, “people will describe you as handsome.”   Her timing wasn’t great. I was a teenager already enrolled in modeling school to distract me from wondering why I had to be taller than 99.9% of the boys at school.

This time ‘round I grew eyelashes and fingernails – a makeover for about $120 – thanks to Gel Nails and Latisse. And I think I’m am walking taller, too. Afterall, the man who stopped me as I was walking out of a recent production of Chorus Line (ever so quietly humming to myself,”Dance 10, Looks 3″), was pretty right when he said, “Tall IS gorgeous.”

Get yourself to the salon and an ophthalmologist!

My favorite: Oasis Foot Spa 1030 Northwest 12th Avenue No. 3, Portland, OR 97209-2838(503) 223-3632

Aug 21 2010


August 20, 2010

SKIN TO SKIN. That is the lyric that bounced around my head in the shower tonight.  I think it was Harry Belafonte accompanied by a sultry female vocalist … it was definitely something very sensual and it got me thinking…

How often are women expected to shave?

In this blog I’ve opened myself up to the bone (therapy) and desire (insatiable). So it is fitting we talk of SKIN and I want to know… not via email, but on this blog wall/ comment section because we just might liberate women:  How often are women expected to shave? Every opinion counts!

For men, “unshaven” for years has seemed the look – ranging from something well past what my dad knew as “5 o’clock shadow,” to unkept, untrimmed, bushy beards.  For women did a similar liberation happen?  Can I skip shaving legs and underarms everyday? Did I miss the memo, as I so often do?

Fact is my mother has asked, “Why do you shave everyday?”  I remind her hair growth varies between 51 and 89 years of age, to say nothing of society expectations and wardrobe.  I still wear dresses, especially in the summer. Many older women have liberated themselves and wear pants ( Katherine Hepburn deserves a mention; she definitely had a hand in making pants fashionable for women).  It makes a difference to one’s shaving routine.

My razor is orange and it vibrates, or it did.  Guess I need to find out what size battery it takes.  In the meantime I snagged a Groupon special for 3 very affordable laser hair removal sessions.  Stay tuned!

Always, Trix

The song!

Aug 7 2010

A reflection between junk & funk.

“She’s started dressing differently.”

Dress composed by Kristin Olson-Huddle using records, dufle bag, bed skirt, cassette tape.

I hadn’t noticed.  I was preoccupied, struggling to understand a wife married to Richard Gere being grossly unhappy.  The movie was Unfaithful (link below).     My movie companion went on to say, “She’s dressing more like a French woman.”  Ah!  A woman in love and feeling attractive equals French, not American, style.

Tell me what you think!  Do women dress for men? Do they dress for other women?  Or – do they dress consistent with their self image and / or mood? And do the French women have a certain Savoir faire?

A reader sent me a NY Times article.  I read it on the run, getting enough of the jest to be  disturbed.  Pause to imagine a middle aged woman with a home office confronted with what to wear to a business conference when her professional clothing wardrobe had been neglected for years.   As I recall she took us on her shopping experience before concluding  “who cares what potato sack this aging gal wears? I am no longer noticed.”

“Pooh,”  I thought.  Last summer dating rekindled my interest in dressing. Walking (the one exercise form French embrace, other than sex) in Portland had freed me of 17 menopausal pounds.  That dip also changed things and propelled me back to more fitted clothes, higher heels and girly stuff over a strictly functional wardrobe.  The biggest change in my style, however, was in my gait.   I got that swing back! Heels or not, I walked taller.

ReBrewed. Dress of used coffee filters collected by designer Adrienne Duckrow.

I seek a style that is comfortable with a little something to stand apart in a crowd. There is a line given to Maria Callas in Terrance McNally’s play Master Class that even my son at age six understood (he bestowed the advise on a NYC waiter during after-theatre dining).  “You don’t have a look.  Get one!”

Returning to PDX (Portland airport) at midnight recently I happened upon an exhibit called Junk to Funk.  I easily could have been happy wearing all but the window blind dress.  When wearing high heels it is nice to be able to take a load off your feet periodically and that dress wasn’t gonna let me though it did a great job of hiding ample hips!

This week, put on your Sunday clothes and stride down the street.  It’s a great feeling!

Always, Trix

Dress made of window mini blinds. Junk to Funk PDX exhibit.