Spring is a time of mixed messages. Just yesterday, I ran through bouts of hail (my hoodie pelted with pellets like white bath salts). But then I heard the calliope toots of the carousel downtown and saw the parents and kiddos waiting hand in hand. Spring is "wear a hat." Spring is "open for business." I guess in the PNW, this lion/lamb business isn't finished in March!
|I felt like a cardinal (the bird,|
not the religious official) in
this sweet shirt from Moscow's
The Storm Cellar. I guess I'd
have to be a male cardinal,
because the females are drab
little brown feathery socks.
Fashion-wise, spring means retiring my lined wool pants, though I have yet to give up tights with skirts. The highs have been in the 50s, which is still a bit chilly for naked legs. I loathe “nude” stockings, which might be the result of so many cheapo pairs of pantyhose I wore to church as a kid. The shade was never quite right: orangey like self-tanner gone wrong or cadaver gray-white. Or the finish was too shiny and spandexy or burlap-rough. I did enjoy opening the L'eggs plastic egg to find a new pair of hose scrunched in there like a wrinkled nylon yolk. But then the fun part was over.
A few years ago, I wore beige fishnets, which I liked quite well. They were neutral enough to suggest polish rather than Halloween, but they didn’t take themselves overly seriously. They were self-aware stockings, winking at passersby: yes, we know we can’t really approximate the tone and texture of flesh, so we’ve taken the playfully artificial route instead.
Last week (with gray tights, I might add) I wore this red, ruffled shirt I picked up for $7 at The Storm Cellar in Moscow, Idaho. My guy and I visited Moscow last month for a concert and to see my friends Brittney and Andy and their two pixie daughters. Of course we also had to check out the gem store, BookPeople, and this new clothing store that caught my eye. The Storm Cellar has a light, inviting space, right on the old-timey Main Street of Moscow, and around the corner from the fabulous food co-op. Like a homegrown Anthropologie, the Cellar offers an impressive selection of men and women’s clothing and shoes in racks with plenty of breathing space, as well as a housewares corner in which owl motifs are well represented.
The fitting rooms were still under construction, so I tried on a whole pile of loot in a room with lots of dust and no mirror. But this gave me an excuse to catwalk out to the three-way at the end of the hallway. I recently “liked” The Storm Cellar on Facebook, too, so now I can dream about the new merchandise they post. It would be worth the 90 min. drive on little roads to Moscow for those deals (plus, a chance to try the zucchini huckleberry French toast at The Breakfast Club down the street).