Spring Things: Part III (Be a Good LeSport)

I have not quite crossed the finish line of the semester, but I couldn’t resist taking the afternoon off.

Yesterday I attended graduation in my robe with velvety chevrons and my droopy hood. This is the third time I’ve worn the gown since my own graduation in May 2010. That last-minute grad ensemble from the campus bookstore turned out to be a good investment. I considered working out the wrinkles with my new clothes steamer (a fine alternative to ironing if you can listen to the user's manual and not put your hand over the steamy part to see if it's hot). Then I read the robe’s ominous tag: Do Not Wash Or Dry Clean. I suppose that when I’m done with it, I should burn it (not unlike a decommissioned American flag)? Readers who sew: could I pay you to make me some pockets in this thing? A girl needs a way to stash a pack of Skittles, especially when she’s sitting through a ceremony.

How could I resist the Atari pull to the heartstrings?

And dear readers, I confess that I haven’t accomplished much thrifting in recent days, other than scoring some graduation wrapping paper last weekend, just in time for a few gifts.

And today, in my glorious afternoon of hooky, I strolled over to Fringe & Fray, where I found this rad LeSportsac bag. I have a boring black bag I bought in desperation at TJ Maxx. It’s better than the ratty tote I used at the beginning of the term. But I fell hard for this LeSportsac (I just like saying that phrase. Is that OK? LeSportsac. LeSportsac. Je m’appelle LeSportsac). The outer pockets will come in handy (keys? Right here! Phone? Got it! Jolly Ranchers? You bet).

New cat Wilkie avoids
LePaparazzi.

But it’s the print that won me over. There’s the nostalgia for my Atari childhood (especially Space Invaders). And then there’s the subtle reward for paying attention. The photo doesn’t do this justice, but for many of the patterns on this bag, there are little surprises. In a row of arches, for example, one sprouts antlers, another eyes. “Repetition makes us feel secure,” writes poet Robert Haas, “and variation makes us feel free.” This bag makes me feel good. Its size and volume assure me it can get to work, and its fun print will be just the thing to usher me into my summer projects.

We’ve had a good stretch of spring-almost-summer weather here until the last couple of days. I have worn sandals and, at last, a floral-print dress from Anthropologie that I received as a birthday present back in March. And, another marker of the seasons, I sat on my roof last Saturday for the first time this year. A couple of friends and I stared at the Spokane skyline, happy to shiver in our jackets or shirtsleeves so long as we got to feel young, hip and urban.

Spring Things: Part II

In the last installment of Spring Things, I let fly with my grievances about hosiery. The next day, I bought a pair of tan, patterned stockings at Target, digging their Machu Picchu zigzag stairstep design and hoping their tone would turn out OK.
Alas, zigzags in the package looked like stretch marks in practice.

I found these cute retro
earrings at Carousel
last weekend.

I dug out my hot pink tights on Wednesday, which worked well with a black and white checked pencil skirt, a gray turtleneck sweater, and these yellow earrings I found last weekend at Carousel.

Today, I braved the rain in bare legs. It was a little chilly for such foolishness, but my core was warm in a lined pink wool skirt, short-sleeved sweater, and gray wool cardigan.

I’ve really fallen for cardigans. I don’t know exactly when this happened, but it must have around the time I was buying my suit for a campus visit. Ah, professionals need not wear jackets every day, sales associates informed me. Sometimes, they wear cardigans.

I can't resist stripes! Here's a recent
cardigan sweetheart, from Fringe & Fray.

Once a very gifted student wrote an essay for my class about his experience in Catholic school. It was from this man that I first heard the term “shadow swearing.” Students at his school were required to wear a cardigan to chapel, and if you forgot yours, the nuns would direct you to the coat closet where you’d be forced to choose an abandoned, scratchy sweater, quite likely with a used tissue wadded in the pocket. These many semesters later, I still shudder at the memory of his description of that Catholic school coat closet's aura of repulsion and shame.

I recently reread Ander Monson’s essay “Cranbrook Schools: Adventures in Bourgeois Topologies.” Before Monson arrives at this private school as a scholarship student, he obtains cardigans from JCPenney at the Copper Country Mall near his home. “I wanted, ridiculously, unsurprisingly, to fit in, and thought that meant cardigans,” Monson writes (32). “I think they were made of rayon or something," he muses. "No one at this school wore cardigans and certainly not the kind you find at JCPenney” (33). Unlike Monson, I was a public school kiddo, but like Monson I, too, have miscalculated the appropriate attire in the hopes of fitting in or coming off kind of classy. And, like Monson's, my hometown is the kind of place where "Penney's" is considered a good store.

Maybe I dodged cardigans for so long for much the same reason that, until recently, I’d make quiet gagging noises if I thought about dress pants (or, even worse, slacks): I hadn’t yet met the right one. 

Now that I've given up puffy coat for the season, I
have lapels! This tiny flower brooch is also from
the accessories menagerie at Fringe & Fray.

Extra Credit

Why does it take such a nudge to get me out of my orbit? (Initially I typed “nude” instead of “nudge,” a different kind of provocation altogether!).

There are two great vintage/resale stores, Carousel and Fringe & Fray, within walking distance of my neighborhood, and today I finally visited them for the first time. A friend of mine with her infant son brought two small bags of clothes to resell. I’ve been culling my closet lately, applying the “have I worn it in the last year?” rule with laudable rigor, so I had my own bag of shoes and clothes to take.

Another first for me today: I sold a few items from the Nicole Inventory and racked up a bit of cash and store credit.

I wasn’t really in a trying-on mood, but I snuck a peek at the racks of vintage dresses and separates arranged by decade at Carousel. I bought a pair of chunky yellow triangle earrings, like something my Nana Sheets might have worn back in her schoolteacher days. I could have spent my store credit at Fringe & Fray, but snack time called. Besides, it's nice to have shopping to look forward to.

Two things I learned: it’s not a good idea to buy something if the only purpose is to resell it. The store credit is a perk, a bonus for clothes that I was prepared to give to a friend or thrift store anyway. But it's not a way to make a living, nor can I use it as an excuse to justify buying stuff I don't love (or that doesn't love me back). 

The other thing: I should think a little harder about how I’m dressed before I trot into these cute boutiques. On teaching days, I try to coordinate my clothes, not in a matchy-matchy way but to suggest that I have put on The Teacher Costume. I choose earrings. I shoot for matching socks.

But after catching up on Glee last night, I slept late this morning, then spent an hour or so trying to sweep up, empty the compost, clean the stovetop before my friend arrived.

I know I wasn’t selling but rather re-selling clothes, so I’m sure it didn’t really matter if I looked put together. My pile of gently worn clothes either suited the vibe of the store or not. But showing up in my dusty purple turtleneck and paint-spattered jeans probably didn't inspire confidence that I thought much about clothes (it may also have inadvertently revealed that at times I use the floor as clothing storage space.)

My shopping companion was well turned out in spring weekendwear, with a cute denim skirt, a green scarf with flecks of color, and a baby in a tiny ball cap and yellow coat. Now that's a great look.

Spring Things: Part I

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).