When I went to Chicago recently, I was surprised how differently the clothing seemed. Summer clothing in Chicago, for women at least, was very different from what I saw at home.
This small town I inhabit is Wholesome-with-a-capital-W with our usual share of crazy. Summer clothing here involves a lot of shorts or capris. I own and wear capris, though I really only have one pair that I'll wear out of the house. They make me look a lot shorter than I actually am and most of the time, that's not a good thing. Also, I wear them with flats, which means I'm two inches shorter than usual. So with the exception of the denim capris with sparkly flowers down one leg (yes, juniors dept, I'm skinny--get over it), I stick to pants and skirts. Mostly pants. Mostly linen.
As I packed for Chicago though, I knew that along with tank tops, I needed to throw in a skirt. I had the perfect skirt to bring: a black knee length that I'd just gotten in New York. It's fitted around the hips, then flares out nicely to the knee. Mostly cotton with some spandex-y type stuff. It goes with anything. Dress it up with a nice blouse, dress it down with a tank top. Pair it with heels, pair it with flats. It's machine washable, requires no ironing, and will keep forever, as long as I remember to pour in some "Woolite Dark" in the wash every now and again. It's the perfect summer skirt.
And there, on a warm Monday in July, I sat in a park with a girl friend and we watched as numerous other skirted young ladies passed by. Skirts were a given, part of summer. Infinitely more flattering, a little hint of feminine. Flowered skirts and ruffled skirts, dark and bright colors, mostly knee-length just to be functional but hemlines varied. The skirts were whatever the wearers wanted, tossed on with a casual air I see often reserved for denim.
My friend challenged me to start a revolution. The skirt revolution!! I don't think it'll quite work here--mostly because I had to go to New York just to FIND an appropriate skirt in a size that fit. But now that I have my favorite pair of ballet flats back from the cobbler (new lining on the inside), perhaps I can demonstrate the cuteness of the skirt.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Episode 24: Old School
We're assaulted with new technology, new ways to communicate, new people to reach out to across time zones and geographic barriers. There is no reason not to start chatting with someone in Australia on Plurk and trade Flickr streams and YouTube clips so we have some inclination of sound and image. Assuming we don't go straight for Skype.
But, I will argue, there's nothing quite like a conversation with a friend who knows all of my weird phrases, knows I stick my tongue out when I giggle, and knows I'm going to need real half-and-half not that "coffee's best mate" stuff. So when my cell phone beeped a quiet question, was I around for a long distance phone call?, I went scrambling for my ear piece.
We've learned to connect with people in myriad ways. Shortly, I'll be posting elsewhere about how I walked into a room full of people and "knew" half of them, without having ever encountered them in person before. A room where a conversation went from shaking hands to picking up where we left off two days ago online. A room where your online handle was as important an identifier as your real name.
Still, having a voice on the other end of the line, and having a well remembered face and expressions to put with that voice, it's important. I know how he sits, how he stacks up the creamers like lego blocks, and what it feels like to stand in a parking lot at wee hours, hugging away our early adulthood insecurities before heading home. We remember sitting in the same class together for hours, living through relationships and performances, and trading confidences in hushed tones, while we hesitantly peer around to make sure no one is around who might know the players in this particular game.
And when the confusion is at its worst, we go back. We reach back for the familiar, the comfortable, the experienced. In this case, though I couldn't go back to the diner or the Starbucks where these conversations all began, that long standing bond formed over endless cups of coffee wiped away the distance. Even when I didn't have the words, I could honestly say that, and know I didn't know what was best but affirming, once again, that I'd be there. No matter what. Always.
I'm blessed with a multitude of friends, many of whom I've met through online social networks, professional development opportunities, chat rooms, and twitter feeds. I have friends I can text at 3 a.m. and know they'll shoot me back a message, or tell me a story 160 characters at a time until my vision finally goes blurry with sleep.
Yet, just as we are encouraged to get back to basics with our material possessions, too, I think we at times must go back to the basics of friendship. We take away the more modern technologies and rely on the emotions expressed only through the voice. We recapture the awkwardness of adults still struggling to figure out the next step, how the last one went awry, and why we don't have the answers. We sit silently, hearing only each other breathing, as we stare at two different floors and know that we might not be able to fix it, but at least we're not alone.
I'm told telephone conversations are passe. I disagree.
But, I will argue, there's nothing quite like a conversation with a friend who knows all of my weird phrases, knows I stick my tongue out when I giggle, and knows I'm going to need real half-and-half not that "coffee's best mate" stuff. So when my cell phone beeped a quiet question, was I around for a long distance phone call?, I went scrambling for my ear piece.
We've learned to connect with people in myriad ways. Shortly, I'll be posting elsewhere about how I walked into a room full of people and "knew" half of them, without having ever encountered them in person before. A room where a conversation went from shaking hands to picking up where we left off two days ago online. A room where your online handle was as important an identifier as your real name.
Still, having a voice on the other end of the line, and having a well remembered face and expressions to put with that voice, it's important. I know how he sits, how he stacks up the creamers like lego blocks, and what it feels like to stand in a parking lot at wee hours, hugging away our early adulthood insecurities before heading home. We remember sitting in the same class together for hours, living through relationships and performances, and trading confidences in hushed tones, while we hesitantly peer around to make sure no one is around who might know the players in this particular game.
And when the confusion is at its worst, we go back. We reach back for the familiar, the comfortable, the experienced. In this case, though I couldn't go back to the diner or the Starbucks where these conversations all began, that long standing bond formed over endless cups of coffee wiped away the distance. Even when I didn't have the words, I could honestly say that, and know I didn't know what was best but affirming, once again, that I'd be there. No matter what. Always.
I'm blessed with a multitude of friends, many of whom I've met through online social networks, professional development opportunities, chat rooms, and twitter feeds. I have friends I can text at 3 a.m. and know they'll shoot me back a message, or tell me a story 160 characters at a time until my vision finally goes blurry with sleep.
Yet, just as we are encouraged to get back to basics with our material possessions, too, I think we at times must go back to the basics of friendship. We take away the more modern technologies and rely on the emotions expressed only through the voice. We recapture the awkwardness of adults still struggling to figure out the next step, how the last one went awry, and why we don't have the answers. We sit silently, hearing only each other breathing, as we stare at two different floors and know that we might not be able to fix it, but at least we're not alone.
I'm told telephone conversations are passe. I disagree.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Episode 23: I Do Not Romp
I will skip. I will, reluctantly, jog. On occasion I have been seen running. Those occasions are usually when I have to catch the 8:22 out of Penn. Inevitably I'm wearing 3" heels. But if you can't run in your heels, what's the point?
There are myriad ways to frolic and enjoy the world.
But I will pass on romping. (Unless it's like the Animaniacs version in their Billy Goats Gruff episode)
Especially if it means I can skip wearing a romper.
You'll still love me if I don't wear one, won't you?
There are myriad ways to frolic and enjoy the world.
But I will pass on romping. (Unless it's like the Animaniacs version in their Billy Goats Gruff episode)
Especially if it means I can skip wearing a romper.
You'll still love me if I don't wear one, won't you?
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