Why I Am No Longer Fashionable

I was always a skinny-Minnie until I stopped smoking, and then I packed on the pounds, so badly that I went from a six to a ten without ever stopping at an eight. Yikes! This happened after I moved to Boston where fashion is a dirty word. Oh, I know. The local newspapers like to tell us we really are stylish, honest, truly, but anyone who drives I-95 South to the Big Apple understands that The Big Apple is the Big Apple, and that Beantown, is, well, Beantown.

In my skinny days, I was terribly fashionable. Jax, Saks, Anne Klein, Jaeger. You name it. My god, I had a Gucci tennis outfit, purchased in Florence. So gaining weight put a huge crimp in my fashionableness, and in addition, I became older, and when I looked at the ads, they sure as hell didn’t show me. They showed anorexic twenty year olds. The clothes didn’t look like anything I could wear to the office or to dinner or to my writing group or even to the theater. In Boston that is.

So I became unfashionable, and from time to time I still stick my nose into Vogue or The New York Times Style section, but those clothes don’t belong in Boston. Cambridge is the worst dressed town in the world. We are talking serious tacky. You can wear the most god-awful getups in Cambridge and no one will look askance. No one will even look.

Boston proper is nearly as bad. A couple years ago I decided to buy a brown or camel jacket. We make an appearance at symphony hall a few times a year, and I noticed many nice wool blazers there in the winter months. So I hie myself to Nordstrom’s and wander around the department where women’s jackets can be found. Cripes, there wasn’t a wool blazer in sight except as part of a suit. Then it dawned on me. The matrons of Boston wore their eight-ten year old wool blazers to the symphony just like I did. I bought a cool non-tailored jacket and have received beaucoup compliments. And I’m the most stylish person at the Handel & Haydn performance. But that’s not saying much.

I never really worked anywhere in the Boston area where women were fashionably dressed. We already mentioned Cambridge. Writers are notoriously poor dressers. In Boston, anyway. When we go out to dinner in the suburbs, everyone wears jeans and sweaters. No fashion there. So I don’t even SEE any fashion to emulate. It’s sad. And then I go to New York and Zowie! Where did all these skinny, cool-looking women come from?

Sometimes coming back from the symphony we are on the same subway cars as the young girls coming into town to go to dance clubs or whatever. Slinky tops and jeans. I could do that, but sometimes you don’t wanna dress down two generations. It’s just not the same.

When we were in Paris two years ago, I did all right, but the Parisian women were stylishly dressed, all in black--the shoes, the coats, the dresses. Très faconnable! Where do women even buy that stuff? Nonetheless, I looked suave having lunch at the museum. See photo.

Now I’m resigned to looking only slightly better than someone going out to wash the car. But I never wear sneakers on Newbury Street. Some standards have to be upheld.

Notes from All Over

Caption: A cats gotta do what a cats gotta do.

Everyone and his brother, mother-in-law, and 2nd cousins was out running errands today, after three days of snow. I have this to report:

More people are shopping at Walmart than Nordstroms, and Walmart had some pretty decent women's tee shirts for $5.00. I buy them for a) workouts and b) pajama tops. Walmart has the cheapest cat litter in the country. And the cats like it!

It used to be that baggers in a super market, unless they were totally out-of-it sixteen year olds, knew how to, well, how to bag groceries. Now, no matter the age, no matter what we say, the baggers still stick two big bottles of cranberry juice and 2 large jars to tomato sauce in the same sack. If you bring reusable bags in, as we do, and there aren't quite enough, the bagger just jams everything together. Do they ask, "Paper or plastic?" for the remainder. Nope.

It can be hard to intuit where in the store grocery items are stored. Sometimes, when you ask, the clerk knows, and sometimes, there's much head-scratching and wandering about, and it's like a treaure hunt with no map until finally, finally, the missing item is located. So far this month, barley has been the most elusive foodstuff.

The main roads are plowed, but major roads are still hard to park on, i.e. poorly plowed at the edges. This was true in Providence, where we damn near died getting across the street, over the snowbank, past the sheet of ice and in the door. Damn! This is living dangerously. My idea of living dangerously is going into town for dinner without reservations, although this year, that is probably not an issue.

Last night, still recovering from the stomach whatever, I felt like chilling on the sofa and watching some nice Christmas show. The only thing I could find was on the Grand Ol Oprey channel. A group, Clay Jar or something like that did a wonderful "Little Drummer Boy," but "O Little Town of Bethlehem" was too much of a "treatment" for me, and I looked for something else. Zilch! Can you believe it? No Christmas music the Sunday before Christmas?

This afternoon Annie gave voice to two mad meows. S.O. was her target. Where were you? Why didn't you take a nap today? She offers no quarter. Besides her tail, a cat's ears give her emotional temperature away. Of course the eyes tell their own tales. Very emotional creatures, are cats. This year they've been respectful of the tree and (most of) the ornaments. Sometimes a cats just gotta do what a cats gotta do.

More anon,

Grapeshot

I Can't Believe I Ate the Whole Thing

Never, ever, under any circumstances eat at The Cheesecake Factory right before trying on clothes at Nordstrom's. You will need a larger size, and the sight of yourself with three extra pounds of food will cause definite trauma and suicidal thoughts.

Ye Gods! So I bought jeans anyhow, and I hope they aren't too big tomorrow. I ate three chicken tacos and S.O. had basil pasta with chicken. The tacos came with beans, rice, salsa, and guacamole. Yum! The beans were pleasantly spicy and of course salsa and guacamole are to die for. It didn't seem like a lot, but then there was the bread, ooops, and the wine and I had to come home and take a nap in front of the food channel where I totally zoned out.

Thisbe, with a mournful meow, woke me up. "Where's my food, you slothful owner?"

Tomorrow I'm taking treats for a Christmas get-together. Mini-cheesecakes, cheese straws, spiced nuts and Martha Stewart's cranberry shortbread.

We didn't eat cheesecake at the Factory. We had a big cheese cake Thanksgiving, and I've got the mini-ones in the fridge for tomorrow. Topped with fresh cranberry sauce. The red looks so festive.

Tonight I whipped up a huge batch of raisins and other dried fruits for some fruitcake cookies. Recipe is from Bon Appetit and it looketh good. Nice and boozy with nuts and none of that citron or icky green stuff. Home made candied orange rind. Yowza! The recipe makes 9 dozen cookies, so I'm taking to some new neighbors, the folks next door, a kid in Chicago and my friend Diane. That still leaves a few dozen for the home front.

Poets and Writers has an interesting round table discussion between four literary agents. I'll query a couple of them. And now, well, off to bed, like any sane person. We watch the original Grinch tonight and the San Francisco ballet's Nutcracker. Definitely in a Christmas mood.

Remember, no trying on clothes after pigging out at The Cheesecake Factory. No one wants to see a blimp in the mirror or all those unsightly bulges. Is unsightly always the modifier for bulges? They're never beautiful or bountiful or breathtaking. Always unsightly. Yeah, they are.

Grapeshot

Yesterday At the Mall

Coming back from Andover, and passing South Shore Plaza. I needed or thought I needed a new handbag. Used to buy them at the Coach Outlet in East Hampton and now we, alas, don't go there anymore since friends are gone.

Thought a reasonably priced straw handbag would be cool. Didn't see much online. A Douney and Bourke caught my eye Macy's web site, but I thought I better check it out.

The mall was mobbed, a circus. They must have been giving away free makeup at the Mac counter. Sale handbags piled up in a big higgelty-piggelty mess. Big icky handbags. Guess was the worst. Way too much chrome, chrone and gold and silver. I already have a gold bag, thanks. No Douney and Bourke bag like the one I was eyeing. Saw a couple I liked that were, shall we say, out of my price range. What was the old saying, champagne tastes on a beer budget. That's moi.

Ventured out into the mall. Even more people, almost chaotic. Strafed through a shitload of stores, no suitable bag. Filene's Basement a total bust. Lots of cheap ugly stuff that looked like it had been made for the Basement. They do that, you know. Make up stuff strictly to sell at outlets.

Waylaid by cell phone kiosk people, and then "natural handcream" guy. We all know I've been planting all week, and must confess planting without gloves. Had not groomed nails except to scrub. Hands looks like hell. Clean would be the best you could say. The guy takes my hand. Don't know if he visibly shuddered or not. These hands cook, scrub pots, dig in the soil, clean house. They haven't seen a professional manicure for years. I tell him, "sorry" and race off. Slink by the kiosk on the other side coming out of the Basement. In Boston, "Basement" always means Filene's.

Off to Lord and Taylor. After Macy's an oasis of calm. They have the Dooney and Bourke bag, but I decide it's too small. Straw bags must be out of style, like tailored blazers. The stuff you find out when you go shopping. The clerk, nice and helpful, shioot, I could have been at Nordstroms they were so helpful, said Kate Spade had some straw bags, but they had sold them all.

Find a cute leather bag for less. Sort of powder blue. Goes with summer clothes, right size, price is right. Get all kinds of discounts. Yay! Price is even righter, and another 15% off when I pay the bill. Practically giving the bag away.

S.O. ostensibly napping in the car is reading the car manual. When all else fails, read the manual. Or RTFM as we used to say in IS. Wish I had a dollar for every hour I poured over the IBM manuals. COBOL, operations, CICS, VSAM, DL/I. I used to know lots of cool stuff. Make those big blue mainframes dance. Yup.

Discovered there's a Cheesecake Factory at the Mall. I have never ever been to a Cheesecake Factory because there is always a 45 minute wait. Once on a rainy Monday at 5:00 p.m. at the Natick Mall there was a 45 minute wait. People are leaving with lots of doggie bags. Big bags. Place is a pig out factory, not what I need, I think ruefully, remembering lots of clothes for skinny 18 year olds. When I was that age, I had hardly any money to buy clothes. Maybe 40 - 50 dollars a month. We all wore black suede loafers. And other clothes, of course. Shame on you.

New idea for a novel. Just kind of came to me. Weird. Maybe I should go shopping more often.

Grapeshot

Shopping and movies

"Atonement" was excellent. I had heard the criticism that the schism between the English country house and Dunkirk seemed like two different movies, but only if one is on a very literal plane.

We strolled through the new part of what was formerly the Natick Mall and has been re-christened the "Natick Collection." Lots of glitzy stores. We spent a bit of time in Nordstroms and I found good stuff on the sale rack. There are some new polyester bathrobes out that redefine soft and cozy. Zowie! One could curl up by the fire and wish that winter would never go away.

The kind of bathrobe I have been wearing for donkey's years--terry on the inside, colorful flowers in cotton on the outside seems to be passe. Mine is about to bite the dust. Why am I telling the world about my bathrobe? My ancient bathrobe? A bathrobe is like an old friend. What can I say?

We don't shop very much and I read lots of magazines but not fashion magazines and so when I actually get into a "fashionable" store I am amazed--like a kid in the toy store. Seems like there is always something new that I had no clue about. Bathrobes, sweaters, resortwear, cool jeans, kids stuff. Where did it all come from?

Wondering,

Grapeshot