- Cream Wrap/Shawl/Cardigan Thing: United Colors of Bennetton, Swapped
- Grey Tee-shirt: Gap
- Black Trousers: Gap Maternity
- Black Not-so-Flat Flats: Bandolino, via ShoeWoo!
- Necklace and Yet-Again-Invisible Small Grey Earrings: Swapped
I’ve been committing myself to spending more time in the realm of the previously loved during this brave new sartorial experience I’m having, raiding both the depths of my own closet and those of others. Admittedly, my success hasn’t been amazing so far, a few great eBay finds excepted (dear stylish people of our region: where are you donating or selling your used items?). But, when my friend R. hosted a clothing swap this weekend, I brought in a bag of clothes I had already planned to sell or donate, and walked out with a bag of exactly the kinds of things you most hope to find secondhand: styles you’d like to try and aren’t sure about, and holes in your closet that you can’t seem to find the perfect “new” item with which to fill. In particular, I found a few accent pieces of jewelry, this shrug/shawl/cardigan thing, and a few non-maternity but blousier silk tunic tops that should be wearable for quite a while into the future. I’m particularly loving this sweater, which anchors a neutrals-with-a-pop ensemble appropriate for yet another cold, rainy day spent mostly in the library but with a few business-casual-required moments. This was definitely in category 2 of my mental swap shopping list, as I’d been on a long and unsatisfying search for both more shorter cardigans and one in an off-white or other light neutral.
Of course, the other major thing I’ve swapped out in these photos is my hair, which I chopped off yesterday. Because of the shawl collar on the sweater and the angle of my head in these pictures, it’s hard to tell quite how short it is, but it’s a pretty basic graduated bob, longer in the front than in the back (about half-way between my collarbones and my chin in the front, and ending just below the nape of my neck in the back), parted to the side instead of my default center part. I’m hoping I’ll be able to wear it both straight and naturally wavy without it looking quite as, well, undone as it often does when longer. While I’m not yet quite enough of a blowdry expert to make it look quite the way it did when I walked out of the salon yesterday (and back into the rain!), I’m pretty happy with the results: a little crisper, a little less youthful, and bringing the focus back towards my face and away from…whatever’s going on everywhere else!
My last “swap”? The neckline on this shirt. While I’ve fervently resisted my much-needed enrollment in a twelve-step program for v-necks in the past, my changing proportions have led me lately to reconsider my position on this topic. The gentle scoopneck on this very casual tee-shirt ups the modesty factor considerably, and feels a little more relaxed in a way that made me much, much more comfortable than I did in the surplice wrap dress I wore earlier this week. I don’t know that it’s the perfect solution to my upper-torso-ambivalence, but today it seems to be working.
Thanks so much for your helpful suggestions earlier this week! On that note, I’m going to ask for a few more: what’s your preferred solution for acquiring previously loved items if your local thrift/consignment scene doesn’t offer much? How do you feel about hairstyle change and its self-fashioning implications (particularly regarding perceptions of age, authority, etc.)? What about neckline choice?
Also: the lovely La Historiadora de Moda of Fashionable Academics has started a fascinating discussion on gender, mentoring and grade inflation in academia that’s more than worth a read (and your thoughts) if you have a minute.
- Graphic Print Wrap Dress: Liz Lange for Target
- Red Cardigan: Vintage Michael Kors, mommed
- Black Tights: HUE
- Black Croc Wedges: Stuart Weitzman, via Bloomingdales
Which inspired genius wore a wrap dress on a windy day? Oh yes, folks, that would be yours truly.
Thankfully, the surprisingly sturdy drape of this dress (which is some kind of crazy rayon jersey) kept me out of serious Marilyn territory. And while it generally proved more safely modest than I expected, I will say that this dress didn’t entirely dissuade me from my skepticism about wrap dresses. Yet?
I have some serious mixed feelings about this whole outfit, which I feel like makes my overall upper body look bigger and sloppier than I’d like (though, admittedly, it’s hard to think of much that doesn’t make my recently, er, expanded, chest feel outsized). [Ed. note: it goes without say that I'm using what we would call, in law land, a "subjective test;" commenting merely on the actual feelings that I actually experienced, rather than what a reasonable person in my position would have or should have experienced!] I was struck by both this color combination and the remixing potential that drew me to this dress when I saw it on the rack, but on further reflection, it seems way, way frumpier than I’d expected.
So, dear readers: help me save this outfit! A number of possible issues/approaches you might consider:
- Should I convert this wrap dress into a faux-wrap? I can sew (hand and machine) but am not a “great proficient” (bonus points for the reference)—anyone know of a great DIY tutorial on how to do this sort of thing?
- Would a shorter, snappier topper have been more appropriate? Looking at my closet, I’m starting to notice a disturbing pattern of, well, only owning long (hip-length or longer) cardigans, which I think are dragging my proportions in the wrong direction.
- Was there a better strategy for layering for a mixed-temperature day that I missed? I hate being that sad girl drowning herself in a cardigan (which I totally felt like today), but let’s face it: sometimes you’re in class (or at the office) and it’s just cold. What are your best tips for adding warmth without adding a “top layer,” or creating warmth without long sleeves? (This is both an aesthetic and a practical question: while I’ve been acquiring some longer tops, most of them are short sleeved, and I’d rather figure out a way to wear them and still be warm than constantly be covering them up).
- Is the surplice neckline the problem? This one at least isn’t gaping, but it’s not exactly, um, minimizing my upper half.
- Would a whole different approach to the outfit (accessories and the lack thereof, color scheme, etc.) have been better?
Thanks, as always, for your feedback! I’m trying to both rigorously examine what didn’t work here for the sake of my continuing sartorial education and to make sure that I’m getting myself out of body image ruts before they, well, get really rut like, knowing that dressing in a way that makes me feel fabulous is more likely to result in my actually feeling that way!
PS: I’m getting my hair cut tomorrow, and there’s a possibility it will be . . . somewhat radical. Any suggestions?
- Waist-Detailed Black Sheath Dress: Ann Taylor (previously)
- Long Light-Grey Cardigan: H&M
- Black Tights: HUE
- Black Croc Wedges: Stuart Weitzman, via Bloomingdales
- Silver Woven Belt: Forever 21
- Blue Pop of Color Necklace: Forever 21
- Yet-Again-Invisible (But Different!) Teal Earrings: Forever 21
I could whine—really, really a lot—about the extent to which the weather totally took the wind out of my sails yesterday, but I won’t. Instead, I’m going to sing an ode to ponte knit. Metaphorically speaking, of course!
Seriously, folks: what’s not to love about this fabric? It’s stiff enough to look oh so much dressier than matte jersey, it drapes well enough to provide just a touch of extra curve concealment where necessary or desirable, it doesn’t cling, it de-wrinkles quickly in our dryer’s steam cycle… I rescued this dress from the same deep discount rack at Ann Taylor from whence came my much-overused jersey dress, and while I’ve worn this one less, they’ve both become major staples of my wardrobe for both work and play. I’ve typically layered this one under blazers in various colors, with black or nude pumps in the summer, or dressed up with a wrap for a special occasion. Here, I’m pairing it with a muted grey sweater (which felt appropriately cocoon like given the weather), a belt, and some brightly colored accessories to add some visual interest. The necklace brightened up my mood, and distracted a bit from the slightly awkwardly high neckline. I didn’t really have much of an audience hidden in the quietest possible corner of the library all morning, but for an afternoon that involved being on call to talk about some difficult stuff (substantively and emotionally), looking put together gave me a much-needed lift.
Has spring finally sprung in your neck of the woods? Have you been dressing to flout the last gasps of winter, or subdued by its lingering hold?
- Brown Striped Button-Up: Banana Republic, via Husband D.’s closet
- Maroon Tank: Gap Maternity, found in a store!
- Metallic Fabric Belt: Loft
- Dark Wash Skinnies: Gap Maternity, via Gap.com
- Teal Pumps: BC Footwear, via Zappos
- Gigantic-yet-invisible Teal Earrings: Forever 21
Holy gender benders, batman! First of all, I realize that several dissertations could probably be written about the cultural politics of and appropriate feminist level of ambivalence about the “raid the closet of the responsible man” approach to pregnancy dressing. That said, when D. discovered yesterday that this button-up didn’t fit him anymore, I couldn’t resist the urge to try and fashion an outfit around it. So, here’s my first effort: I think we’re mostly out of inappropriate kitsch territory, but I could yet be convinced otherwise!
While this shirt is a reasonable length and only a few inches too broad in the shoulders, it’s significantly too big around still, so I’m using a fabric belt to reign it in a little bit. I’m also trying to tone down the camp factor in a number of other ways, pairing the oversized shirt with slimmer pants and with, on the whole, “girlier” accessories: colorful shoes, large earrings, and a shiny belt. Though, again, this is a choice that’s not without its theoretical entanglements, I’m hoping that these more festive accessories make the outfit read as intentionally sartorially experimental rather than “frumpy lady whose given up on herself entirely.” Because I was still nervous about it, though, I should note that this isn’t a look I wore to class or other “important” obligations; I reserved it for a day that I was running errands and holing up in a coffee shop to study!
How do you feel about “borrowing” clothing items from the closet of someone whose gender or typical gender presentation is different from your own? How have you integrated these pieces into your wardrobe? What do you make of trends that seem to glory in this concept, like the rise of the “boyfriend” jean?
- Tweed Cropped Blazer: Tracy Reese (2004?)
- Turquoise Ruched Top: Liz Lange for Target
- Red-Orange Necklace: Forever 21
- Black Trousers: Gap Maternity, found in an actual store!
- Black Flats: Bandolino, via ShoeWoo!
First of all, I’ll just say I think I was so excited to be taking photos outside in real natural light that I couldn’t keep a straight face, but I hope you’ll take the tradeoff between greatly improved photo quality and quirky faces. Talk about outfits bridging life circumstances: I originally got this blazer to wear to my twin brothers’ Bar Mitzvah ceremony in the Spring of 2004, and yesterday I wore it to dinner with the two of them to celebrate their being home from college for spring break. Back then, I wore it buttoned over a black tank and a black pencil skirt and perilously high heels, a look I repeated with variations at work in the ensuing years (usually over a black shift dress). I’ve never worn it with pants, though, in part because it tends to hit awkwardly with the higher-waisted trousers I often lean towards. Here, I’m taking advantage of some new requirements of my changing form (lower-rise pants and longer tops) to give this distinctive piece new life. And surprisingly, even though I’m wearing it open here, it’s still giving a little bit of waist definition, in part because it ends just below where my nascent bump starts.
Like yesterday, I’m continuing to explore the potential for brights + blacks color combinations. Here, I’m using the tweed of the jacket as a bridge between the black and turquoise, keeping all the solid black on the bottom half of the outfit (think about how much more severe this would look, for example, if I had worn a solid black blazer). I’m also relying on the contrast between the red-orange necklace and the turquoise top to add visual interest and playfulness to the outfit, and to “distract” from the contrast between the black trousers and the bright top. Even though it feels professional (though not fancy enough to wear, say, to court), it feels relaxed enough for a day of classes, saying, rather than screaming, “hey! serious person here!”
While I don’t typically do product reviews, I’ll note that while Gap Maternity has mostly been a lifesaver, I’ve only worn these pants twice and I’ve already noticed a few stray threads peeking out from a couple of seams. I’m hoping it’s not a sign of unravelling to come, but it’s a little troubling. I’m sure I’ll have occasion to talk in more detail about searching for maternity items with a good cost-value ratio later on, but for now I’ll just say that after so many unsuccessful online shopping and returning attempts, being able to go to an actual store and try things on was a really refreshing experience!
How have you been urging spring on this week? Have you recently rediscovered an older wardrobe item in a new and unexpected way?
Though, like most women, I look a different degree of pregnant by the hour, here are a couple of gratuitous week 15 bump shots:
- Red Cardigan: Vintage Michael Kors, mommed
- Black Jersey Dress: Ann Taylor, endlessly remixed
- Black Tank: Gap maternity, via gap.com
- Printed Silk Scarf (as belt): Vintage Burberry, mommed
- Brown Tweed Flats: L.L. Bean
Oh man . . . can it be spring already? We alternately suffered through and enjoyed the teasing weather all weekend, tempting the fate of sunny but slightly-too-cool-for-comfort days by putting in new plantings and shivering a bit through long walks before finally retreating for a serious basement cleanout and homework on Sunday afternoon. We woke up to a noisy storm this morning, but the rain seems to have tapered off . . . just in time for me to spend the day in the library and in what is seriously the coldest seminar room in history.
I’m balancing these competing meteorological demands, as well as those of a long and busy day, with removable layers built on bare legs and flats. I’m keeping things interesting, though, wearing a boldly (floral!) printed scarf as a belt, and mixing this pattern with the smaller-print tweed on my shoes. It’s not nearly as bold a pattern mix as the one I wore on Thursday, but it added a little more visual interest than plain black flats would have. In addition, despite my love for mixed neutrals, I know that black and mid-range brown can be a harsh contrast, so the tweed (and the visual separation of my bare legs) helps “blend” this mix a little more smoothly. And while it really is still the same dress, I’ve had to add a modesty cami under its surplice neckline, as it’s now a bit too va-va-voom for a day when we’re talking about the regulation of sexuality in the workplace!
I was flipping through the new issue of InStyle this weekend, and came across an interview with the guys from Proenza Schouler which taked about ways to wear spring’s bright colors trend (they were far less thorough than the academichics were on this topic this weekend!). Interestingly, they recommended wearing bright colors against black as a way to “manage” these spring brights, particularly at the office. I was surprised by this advice. Maybe it’s just the stuffy old person in me, but nothing says terrifying freshman year of college flashback to me like the idea of a woman in a bold orange/turquoise/pink top and black pants, and it’s hard for me to see how this kind of bright-against-black pairing could look either tasteful or professional, or do anything other than make them look brighter! Giving credit where credit is due, though, I’m giving their advice a try today, but with a color combination that, for me, is much more familiar: bold tomato red against black. I’m softening the abruptness of this contrast by using the floral print scarf as a bridge, but it still feels a bit . . . juvenile to me, somehow. Any suggestions?
How are you wearing brights for spring? Can bright-against-black look grown-up enough for work, or is it too youthfully exuberant? What’s your go-to neutral for pairing with spring’s searing shades?
- Printed Faux-Wrap Dress: Express (1999)
- Skinny Black Belt: Ann Taylor
- “Miro” Scarf: Gifted
- Black Tights: HUE
- Black Croc Wedges: Stuart Weitzman, via Bloomingdales
This outfit is actually a variation of one I wore during the Fall 30-for-30, worn, like it was last time, while best-friend-from-grad-school-take-1 C. was in town from her new home on the west coast (apparently, pattern mixing is one of the many things to which she inspires me!). To keep the look a little more pulled together (though slightly less funky) relative to the first edition, I’ve traded out the boots and boot socks for black wedges and added a skinny black belt to define my waist. I think the shoe switch helped: it created a longer leg line, and a more sophisticated, more office-appropriate look. The belt, though, got lost in the shuffle. While I maintain that it looked more sophisticated and cleaner than a wider belt would have looked, the black got lost against the pattern of the dress (at least in the photos), making for a more subtle effect than I was going for. I still loved this pattern mix the second time around; the playfulness of the pattern on the scarf worked well against the sharp geometric lines of the dress.
I was surprised to see this dress on the short list of items that survived the Great Closet Sort of 2011: proof positive, yet again, that sometimes it can be hard to predict what’s going to stick around and stick with you the lo-these-many-years I’ve had this dress. It also gave me a new appreciation for tights season, even as I’m longing for spring and bare legs; while the dress has had a far longer life than I expected it to, it’s getting to be a bit short to be worn during the bare-legged months of the year, and I’m appreciating the way the lingering-cold-induced acceptability of tights is giving me yet another thing I can wear (and remix) as my wardrobe becomes more limited.
Have you “revised” a past look, perhaps under different sartorial circumstances? Were you changing things up as a creative exercise, or to suit a different setting or a different season?
{Image via tinyrevolution.us}
In professional politics, that den of iniquity from which I eked out a living for most of my misspent youth, there’s a little talked about tradition among staffers known as the “Come to Jesus meeting.” It is a device for extreme measures: a request made to your Chief of Staff or other presumptively responsible adult because the Boss (usually an elected official or other public figure) is about to do or say or won’t stop doing or saying something so stupid or controversial that it jeopardizes not only his or her future but yours as well. And when you make this request, your Chief of Staff will look at you with searching eyes and say, “are you sure?” and nod her head sadly. Then the two of you will go in there for a while and present the problem and then she will ask you to leave while she and the Boss have “the Talk.” It is the Moment, the Last Chance. The stakes are high. Nothing about it is fun.
In far less dramatic terms, I found myself having such a come to Jesus meeting with my closet the other night, after far too many days of waking up, trying on an outfit I really wanted to wear, discovering it didn’t fit, and leaving the house in something that didn’t quite work and didn’t look all that great anyway. I tried to force myself to take a hard look at three kinds of things:
- What needed to be sold/donated/trashed regardless: damaged pieces, things I’ve never worn, things that didn’t fit anyway, etc.
- What wasn’t going to fit for the foreseeable future. This is something of a fluid category, as I’m committed to continuing to experiment with wearing as many of the things I currently own as I can, albeit in different ways, but some things (high waisted, woven pencil skirts and slacks) are clearly out.
- What the meaningful holes in my wardrobe were, and a reasonable strategy for acquiring at least the staple pieces that would make me feel more like myself again.
Although this was a pregnancy-specific inquiry in my case, I think some of what I realized was applicable to any kind of body transition moment (weight gain or loss, injury that makes you require some specific accommodation, dramatic seasonal weather fluctuations, etc). And, after some difficult moments (what do you mean that doesn’t fit?!?!?!), I ended up with a decent-sized pile of things to donate to Goodwill, a pile of things to sell on Smashion (coming soon!), and a box of items I’m hanging on to but that just aren’t in the cards for now. As an even more important takeaway, though, I’ve solved a problem that I felt was unacceptable: the extent to which staring at a closet full of things that refused to work with my changing body was making it more difficult for me to maintain the positive body image I’m determined to—pregnant or otherwise!
While I’m by no means an authoritative guide on this subject, I did come up with a list of kinds of questions I asked and rules of thumb I followed, both about what to get rid of and how to find the meaningful holes in my closet.
- Acknowledge—and then challenge—your assumptions. When I went through my closet and eliminated things, the result I was left with felt almost pitifully small. It was important to both be honest with myself that that was the way I was feeling, and to challenge myself about why: was it the number of specific items I had left that fit that was bothering me, or the lack of some critical, staple piece, or the overall size of my closet? Clearly I felt like I was missing something, but what was it?
- The usual rules still apply. Have I not worn this in a year? Is it in poor shape, beyond my ability to repair or my willingness to pay to have someone else fix it? Is it a sartorial white elephant, an item that doesn’t go with anything else in my closet?
- But: Is there something I can do about it? Is that something I’m willing to do? If I think the piece needs a companion, or needs alterations in some significant way, am I willing to spend the money or the time to find or acquire the solution?
- Does it fit? This is a more complicated question when you’re talking about a physical transition: Which direction am I going in? Is it a place I’ve been before? When I’m talking about something like seasonal weight fluctuation, I have some sense of what my body’s going to do, but pregnancy is (in my case) more foreign. If I have to guess, what experiences can I draw on to get a better sense of whether it might fit?
- Can I wear it the way I usually do? I came across this problem a lot: since I mostly owned high-waisted bottoms, I have a number of tops that work with them, but that don’t have the necessary length to cover either my bump or the stretchy waists prevalent on maternity pants. If I can’t wear it the way I usually do, can I wear it in some new way? In my shirt example, what about wearing it over a dress as a skirt?
- What is its anticipated lifespan? This is a question about both fit and quality, and its pretty self-explanatory. The fit question is a little bit more complicated in these circumstances, though: if I’m not sure how long it will last, am I comfortable guessing? This may depend on how key a piece it is in my wardrobe: I’m more willing to take a chance on something I use as an accent than building my wardrobe around a basic piece that I think has limited longevity.
I tried to ask all these questions, not only about the things I was considering getting rid of or storing, but about the things I was considering purchasing: how long will it fit for? What gap does it fill in my closet? Will it work with the other items I have? How can I envision remixing this item in the future? How many times will I wear it, and how will that affect the cost-per-wear of the item? Given the “temporary” nature of these items, do I have a ceiling about how much I’m willing to spend, either per item or in general? Are there special occasions I will need to shop for during this time?
The bottom line: at the end of my investigation, it turned out the holes in my wardrobe were not, at all, what I expected them to be. Where I thought I was lacking sweaters and jackets, it turned out that these kinds of “topper” items were ones I had in spades. What was I missing? Pants, skirts and tees/blouses: the kinds of separates pieces that make up the core remixable elements of my wardrobe. It wasn’t what I expected to find, but now I know. And I can shop for these items with clear eyes and a clear head, rather than feeling the constant stress of an impulse to shop to fill a sense that my wardrobe is missing something. Taking the time to really think about what I need—and don’t need—helped me recapture the tools and the wherewithal to make my closet work for me, and that was more than worth the time and the temporary angst!
I made it! Woohoo! At longer last than I would have liked, my second attempt at Kendi’s 30-for-30 challenge is in the books. While my “what I’ve learned” list is a little more context-specific than usual this time around, it wouldn’t be an S. effort if it didn’t include an overly self-examined summation attempt, so, here goes:
- During the second half of this challenge, I experimented—out of necessity—with new proportions. While I did so largely to accommodate and/or mask my growing bump, I appreciated the opportunity to both (a) prove to myself that I could make these kinds of proportions (namely blousier, longer tops) work for me and (b) acknowledge that my figure-flattery priorities are constantly shifting, and that not every day has to be about looking as tall and hour-glassy as possible.
- The stand-bys of my wardrobe are still…the stand-bys of my wardrobe. I can imagine life without this black jersey dress, but I really, really don’t want to.
- Working within a limited wardrobe gave me the chance to think critically about what kinds of things make me feel like me, and what the relative strengths of my wardrobe are. The answers? Unique accessories, and in particular, brightly-colored scarves. I’m always cold, which is part of the appeal, but I’ve been amazed consistently at the ability of a scarf to completely change the look and feel of an outfit.
- Much as I hate admitting it, there are days—and funks—that you can’t dress your way out of by forcing yourself to wear brighter, more structured pieces than the sweatpants you feel like wearing. Accepting that you will have those days, and figuring out what kinds of sartorial solutions make you feel “okay” when you can’t get to “amazing,” turns out to be really important.
- Not shopping was harder this time. I think you can probably imagine why. Not an excuse, just…a thing.
- I’m becoming increasingly committed to the idea that color—and in particular, bright colors and bright color combinations—is an important part of my sartorial vocabulary. I stuck mostly to neutral pieces last time around, but I’m really glad I forced myself to choose more boldly colored pieces this time. I love the ways that color can keep you from feeling like you’re wearing the same thing all the time (even if some of the elements are constant), can add visual interest to a look, can brighten your mood, and can even—when used as a “pop”—make neutral combinations seem all the more soothing.
If you participated in the 30-for-30 this time, was it your first? If it wasn’t, what was different this time around? What have your experiences been like, living within a limited wardrobe?
- Olive Dolman Wrap Cardigan: Forever 21
- Purple Heathered Tee: Gap
- Dark Wash Skinnies: Gap Maternity, via Gap.com
- Brown Riding Boots: Franco Sarto, via Zappos
- Earrings: Forever 21
- Dark Wash Skinnies, Brown Riding Boots
- Chartreuse Blouson Top: Loft
- Blue Necklace: Forever 21
- Earrings: Forever 21
Phew! I made it! These last two 30 for 30 looks aren’t breaking the bank, but they’re representative of one of the major ways I’ve tried to stay sartorially inspired as my wardrobe grows more limited: experimenting with new color combinations. Some of these have included experiments in high contrast (chartreuse and cobalt), while others have included more muted tones (like the olive and heathered purple here). They also represent an exercise in necessity as the mother of invention: I’m experimenting with newer proportions on top with these jeans because they’re the only pair of pants I can currently wear without a rubber band through the buttonhole! (About which more later). As a result, these looks are fairly typical of the kinds of weekend looks I’ve been wearing these days, as I try to get a few more wears out of the things in my closet I know are not long for this world, and a few more wears out of these boots for the season even as I long for the beginning of spring.
I’ve also been experimenting more and more with jewelry lately, helped on by both a gift card to Forever 21 and some recent donations from my darling mum. I’ve never been a big jewelry wearer, other than my “constant pieces,” my watch and wedding/engagement rings, but I’m trying to expand my horizons as a way to add visual interest and stimulate my creative juices. I’ve been surprised with the ease with which I’ve been able to incorporate some larger pieces into my casual wardrobe, however, I’m not sure how I’ll handle earrings in particular during the summer, when I’m in a more conservative office environment.
How do you feel about jewelry, particularly in your professional wardrobe? What rules of thumb do you rely on when considering what’s appropriate in different settings?
Hi! I'm S. Welcome to Narrowly Tailored, a blog about life and style from a law student and new mom. In short: work and life gets dressed; balance mostly gets amused.Follow Along
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