I needed to go to the financial district last week and thought I should dress accordingly. So I wore a suit. This one has dots instead of pinstripes, it's bright orange instead of grey, vintage not new, and it's silky, pyjama style, and has linebacker shoulder pads. Other than that, I fit right in and was ready to address the board of directors.
When walking with these shoulder pads, my shoulders start gyrating like a washing machine, which has all kinds of personal '80s associations in terms of style and female empowerment. (I just realized that this woman/power image involves a home appliance! How wrong is that?!)
For something different, I made a cartoon in response to a comment I read on someone's blog which said that a doctor told her friend she has a geriatric vagina. Oh, really? This rant has been wanting to explode for several weeks now. Here it is. (Warning: If you hate this topic, you'd best leave now.)
I probably laughed more drawing this than you will reading it. You should see the stuff I deleted. Hahaha!
Back to the outfit:
And below, a closeup of my '80s power suit. I'm linking this up to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style, Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb, and Anne at SpyGirl for 52 Pick-me-up: Completion. It's the last week of her year-long colour theme project. Why not join us?
You can see the neon yellow lace blouse that united this jacket and pants for the first time since I bought the suit over two years ago. The tie is made of vintage fabric, and I'm wearing my orange elastic, front-lace corset belt. This is a new favourite outfit.
Finally, heartfelt thanks to Susan at une femme d'un certain âge for mentioning me in her recent thoughtful post THINKING ABOUT: THE MEANING OF PERSONAL STYLE.
Bill Cunningham (1929-2016)
I just found out that Bill Cunningham has died. I didn't know him personally, but this renowned NY artist/photographer had a direct and unlikely impact on the life of this middle-aged woman in Vancouver, Canada.
I remember clearly heading out alone to the theatre to watch a discount matinee of the documentary Bill Cunningham New York. Before the show started, in my seat in the dark, I furtively pulled my pink Munster Fluevog shoes from the plastic bag I had been clutching and slipped them on my feet. I had read up a bit about Mr. Cunningham beforehand, and properly shod I was ready to be swept away. I was.
Bill Cunningham. Bill Cunningham - his name rang in my head for weeks after the movie. When he saw the beauty of a woman in a wet blowing garbage bag, I fell in love. His unpretentious heartfelt drive and vision gave me hope. And confidence.
Soon after, I started a street style blog in Vancouver under the guiding force of his saying that if you look for beauty you will find it. This philosophy sustained me during the long, dark months of Vancouver's wet winters.
From these beginnings, this blog, Bag and a Beret, was born, and my own style confidence took off. While I have not thought of Mr. Cunningham specifically throughout this evolution, he was the star of the critical moment that launched it all and the person whose positive outlook buoyed me when I felt abandoned by beauty. I owe him tremendous thanks.
Bill Cunningham is an irreplaceable man. I am sad he is gone and rejoice in what he has shared.