- Polka-Dot Tunic: Japanese Weekend via eBay
- Red Cardigan: Vintage Michael Kors, mommed
- Nude Cork Wedges: Jones New York via DSW
- Black skirt: induetime via eBay
- Necklace: David Yurman, gifted
Here’s something that isn’t news: I have pretty pale skin. Even in the summer, when my upper body at least manages to get a little tan, I’m still pretty lacking in the pigment department. It wasn’t always this way, actually. When I was a kid, I was one of those people who never burned despite some somewhat lackluster sunscreen habits and a great deal of time outside. Then, sometime in my early twenties, around the time I started expressing more of my mother’s genes for no apparent reason, my skin just . . . got lighter. I got a sunburn for the first time, decided I’d really rather that never happen again, and started being, well, rather aggressive with the sunscreen.
For a while, this bothered me, and admittedly there are still moments in early spring when I’m, well, rather stunned by my own paleness. But like my shoulders, my quirks and my unusual name, this too is something I’ve grown into with age, and something I’ve come genuinely to embrace as time has worn on. My pale, sunburn-prone skin is a constant reminder to be more careful (or at least, as careful as I should be) with my skin in the sun. It’s led me to experiment with garments that wouldn’t ordinarily be high on my list (read: sunhats). And unexpectedly, I’ve found my pale skin to be . . . somewhat dramatic. Today, I’m highlighting that drama in an outfit that breaks all the rules for pale-skinned gals (and particularly, those of us who also have dark hair): I’ve gone black and white and red all over, anchoring the look with nude pumps that allow all the visual “weight” of the look to remain above the knees. It flirts a little with Dita von Tesse for summer, but the relatively airy fabrics and nude shoes keep the look from seeming too out of season. And as with all my attempts to “dress my best” this week, it reframes and celebrates something that’s sometimes been a struggle for me to embrace.
Do you dress your skin tone? If so, how? How have you experimented with or challenged the “rules” for someone with your skin tone?
- Peach/Orange Tunic: Japanese Weekend via eBay
- Navy Abstract Floral-Print Skirt: induetime via eBay
- Nude Cork Wedges: Jones New York via DSW
- Necklace: Filene’s $4 bin
- Oatmeal Long Cardigan: Halogen via Nordstrom’s, gift from mom
Both E. and S. of academichic have spoken eloquently this week about the many (many!) changes the pregnant body goes through, and have touched on something I’ve also been struck by: the almost-total way pregnancy has changed the list of things I love (and don’t love as much) about my body. Just as I’ve been surprised by the things that have and haven’t changed, I’ve been surprised at my own responses to these changes, at the way things have fluctuated from being on my own internal lists of welcome and less welcome alterations.
Today, I’m celebrating two such situations, only one of which would have made a “best” list a year ago: my chest and my legs. Pre-pregnancy, my general view of my body was more or less, top half good, lower half bad. Even though I could admire and appreciate (or try to) all the things my legs have helped me do in life (running, cycling, backpacking across the desert of Western Australia), my lower half has generally been a body image no-go area, for pretty much as long as I can remember. My strangely-proportioned lower half has led to numerous awkward pants-fitting experiences, abundant late-adolescent deep-sighing, and a lot of miles, but not a lot of warm, fuzzy feelings. Conversely, I’ve always felt relatively positively about my upper half, which feels (once I embraced my shoulders) properly proportioned and well contained, and comprises some of my most powerful (forearms, shoulders, upper back) and delicate (waist, wrists, collarbones) bits.
But pregnancy has more or less upended this perception: all of a sudden, my legs seem oddly normal, proportionate, even dare-I-say shapely, and I was overwhelmed by the rapid, er, chest expansion that began almost immediately in early pregnancy. (As always, when I talk about body image issues, I’m using subjective, what-it-felt-like-for-me vocabulary, so YMMV.) While I’ve been thrilled that my legs have felt like an anchor of normalcy and body positivity, finding a way to embrace my distorted chest (all puns intended) has been more of a challenge. But I’m working on it, and on finding the things to celebrate about even this strangest of pregnancy-related body changes: after all, even this change has a truly miraculous purpose. And of course, there are other, more sobering reasons not to bad-mouth my chest: in a world where breast cancer still claims the lives of too many women, breast health is nothing to take for granted. And as with the many body-image lessons I’ve been learning as I’ve come to live with this ever-changing pregnant body of mine, I’m working on figuring out ways to take these lessons with me after our little one arrives, and in particular, to embrace the beauty in the functionality of my body, of what it’s been proving every day it’s capable of.
Have you had a major life change or experience change your relationship to a body part or your body image in general?
- Coral Draped Top: Joie via Nordstrom’s
- Abstract Floral Print Skirt: Induetime via eBay
- Brown Peep-Toe Wedges: Naturalizer via amazon.com
- Pearls: gift from mom on my wedding day
Today, I’m celebrating something a little less culturally loaded than, well, the fact that my body is, er, not alone: my shoulders. You know, the broad, slightly aggressive ones. The shoulders I got from my mother: the ones so apparently distinctive that a former colleague of hers, upon meeting me for the first time, exclaimed “Oh my goodness, you look just like her…your shoulders…” despite the fact that my mother is shorter, thinner and blonder than I am. The shoulders that have been through the proverbial wringer of many years of rock climbing, a few years of white water kayaking and too many years of carrying overlarge bookbags. The shoulders that survived one very high tech, very painful arthroscopic repair and returned to be even more useful than they were beforehand. Those shoulders. The kind of awesome ones.
While I’ve always loved and appreciated the things my shoulders have enabled me to do physically, I haven’t typically drawn attention to them. As I, er, mature, though, this has changed: like some of the other more distinctive aspects of my appearance and personality, I’ve grown into them as time has marched on. Today’s outfit is probably the sartorial equivalent of screaming that my broad, decisive shoulders are here to stay: not only am I naming and claiming them, I’m naming and claiming them with ruffles. And points. And eye-searingly bright coral. And even on a day when it was 97 degrees and I felt like the cautionary whale, I’m having quite a bit of fun doing it, as a matter of fact! Because whether or not they’re feminine or typical, my shoulders are, well, me. I’m no shrinking violet, and neither are they.
- Cropped Tweed Blazer: Tracy Reese via Nordstrom’s (2004?)
- Navy Tee: Gap Maternity
- Black Trousers: Gap Maternity
- Black Flats: Bandolino via ShoeWoo
- Necklace: David Yurman, gifted
I’m so happy to be participating in Academichic’s Dress Your Best weeks this year! For the next two weeks, I’ll be featuring outfits that feature my best, well, features, as well as some that reframe those I’m less sure about in morebody-positive ways. In a time of personal, professional and physical flux, I’m looking forward to this opportunity to celebrate the state I’m in—where I am in my body-image journey, and the ways that clothes (and blogging!) both mediate and perform aspects of my relationship to my body.
To start out this process, I’m,well…cheating, and starting with some low-hanging fruit: my baby bump. I’m thrilled to be pregnant, and D. and I can’t wait to meet our daughter in September. It’s fascinating to watch my body change (often seemingly by the hour) to nurture this new life, which seems to announce itself with increasing volume on a minute-by-minute basis (why yes, little bean, I suppose that is your…foot?…i can see kicking through tight tee-shirts?).
But loving the state of affairs and springing into being with an innate understanding of how to dress a body that seems to change almost too rapidly aren’t the same thing, and I haven’t necessarily been a model of how to integrate my changing form into my self-concept smoothly. Initially, I struggled to navigate dressing a bump that was big enough to seem to make all my clothes refuse to fit, but that didn’t “read” as obviously pregnant. As time went on and my pregnancy became more obvious, I became more aware of the assessments some people made as they read the shape of my body against their own expectations of what a woman at stage X of pregnancy “should” look like. When I started a new (summer) job more than five months into my pregnancy, I grappled with the appropriate way to dress the pregnant body in a professional environment surrounded by people I’ve never met. I’ve tried (not always successfully) to balance “cuteness” and professionalism, between “coming out” and passing. Like so many things about my life right now, this is all still a work in progress.
But today, I’m not passing or even balancing, I’m announcing. I’m speaking and removing all doubt, rather than remaining silent and being thought a fool, so to speak. Does it affect people’s perceptions of me? In some way (for better or for worse), of course it does. But bodies are never neutral, and this body—with everything it “says” or appears to say about my private life, my goals, my personality or what have you—is the one I have right now, and the things it says—to me, anyway—are pretty darn worth celebrating. So good for you, bump. You’ve got kind of a lot going on—and it’s all stuff I’m pretty proud of.
Just for the sake of amusing comparisons, here’s nearly the same outfit at the beginning and end of my second trimester:
Time flies, doesn’t it?
- Red Cardigan: Vintage Michael Kors, mommed
- Grey Tee-Shirt: Gap
- Navy Abstract Floral Pattern Skirt: induetime via eBay
- Brown Peep-Toe Wedges: Naturalizer via amazon.com
While this is hardly my most innovative outfit, it has a (at least moderately) funny story to go along with it. For all my kvetching and hand wringing about wearing bright colors in the workplace, on the day I wore this outfit, I was not alone in my choice of bright red. When I walked into a lunch hosted by our firm’s women’s forum, I was surprised to find the very fabulous, very female head of the practice group I’d hope to join if I came back to the firm after graduation…in a tomato red shift dress. And white sling-backs! While I, of course, don’t feel free to take her sartorial liberties as a mere summer associate (nor could I wear a shift dress for all the tea in China at the moment), I was suitably (hah!) inspired.
What is special about this outfit is the way it makes new use of items that were either extremely inexpensive or actually free to begin with, and have been remixed so many times that their cost-per-wear is fast approaching zero. I’m not normally an obsessive bargain hunter when it comes to clothes. For the most part, I’d much rather focus on an item’s potential longevity and cost-per-wear than the number on the tag (and, as Sara so astutely points out, the more fundamental question of “is this something that belongs in my closet to begin with”). But every now and then, I get a bizarre experience of glee from discovering that something as inexpensive as this skirt ($1.99 on eBay) has become a truly integral part of my wardrobe. I’m particularly sensitive to this now, as my wardrobe has shrunk and I’ve tried not to continue endlessly acquiring things as I approach the finish line of my pregnancy. Not every item will be this way, but when it happens, it’s awfully nice! Particularly, as was the case here, when it’s an item I might not have tried, but for its can’t-pass-this-one-up price tag.
How do you find a balance between quality and quantity as you acquire new pieces? Are you systematic in your approach to the costs of items you consider, or a little more spontaneous about the way you shop?
- Teal Short-Sleeve Cardigan: Caslon via Nordstrom’s, gift from Mom
- Black and White Polka Dot Tunic: Japanese Weekend via eBay
- Silver Woven Belt: UO
- Grey Trousers: Loft Maternity via eBay
- Silver Necklace: gifted
- Black Croc Wedges: Stuart Weitzman via Bloomingdale’s
My second trimester, which came in like a lamb, is headed out like a lion, in a week that’s firing on all cylinders on work, school and home fronts. And even though we’re two-thirds of the way there (at least!) and I’m feeling, well, really pregnant, because I spend my days around people I’ve either never met or have only met once or twice, there seems to be a greater-than-usual degree of is-she-or-isn’t-she confusion. While I would rather the nuances of my legal analysis be the story than the nuances of my personal life, I’m not entirely comfortable with a high level of ambiguity about it, either, or with feeling as if I’m hiding something. While presumably this will become less of an issue over time, for now it’s yet another layer of complication (and yet another thing to over-think!) to the process of figuring out how to dress a body that seems to change by the hour.
As I’ve been navigating these murky waters and experimenting with new silhouettes, I’ve been doing one thing less: belting. I don’t know whether to blame the climate shift between inside and out (which typically necessitates a removable top layer), my recent, er, chest expansion (see, e.g., Drew Barrymore on the risks of belting in such situations…), or my general discomfort with having my stomach restrained, but belts have featured less and less in my sartorial vocabulary in recent weeks. So, while I’d normally be challenging myself to go beltless, I’m issuing myself a new challenge: find new ways to define a waist on my changing shape, whether through a belt or through other means (seam placement, etc.). Fellow pregnant gals and moms: any thoughts on this? I’d love to have the benefit of your advice and inspiration!
In truth, I’m not sure I loved this attempt, which runs the risk of looking a little bit twee for my tastes, but I appreciated not feeling drowned in a cardigan or blazer for a change. This tunic is about as high a neckline as I can reasonably wear at this point, but I love its flexibility and ability to span varying levels of formality with ease. (And in a few weeks, I’m going to really love the box pleating!) And even though these pieces are all getting to be pretty well-worn and well-loved, I loved the way this outfit truly remixed all of them to form a combination I never would have thought of before.
Like Academichic’s E., I’ve been pretty obsessed with coral (and, in fairness, pretty much all shades in that triangle between orange, pink and bright red) this spring. I’m not normally a huge fan of pink, and I can’t remember ever having had a huge stock of orange items, but some combination of this spring’s trends, my increased willingness to play with bright colors, and (perhaps) pregnancy have driven me headfirst into a serious love-affair with this infectiously bright and joyous portion of the color wheel. Most of my orange/coral pairings have been with grey or navy, as I’m still a little ambivalent about straight bright-on-black color combinations. This outfit, in particular, is in dangerous territory: the pinkish top and black bottomed color pairing is teetering on the edge of looking a bit too much like the Friday-evening attire of many of the women the other emily and I went to college with. But I loved the way my own advancing years and the grown-up silhouettes and accessories saved this outfit from the brink. In its current form, this look is a far cry from a bright pink tube top and those “going out pants” you hate admitting you owned in a previous life!
Speaking of silhouettes, I have to give credit where credit is abundantly due on this top, which a very stylish friend and colleague of my mother’s pointed out to me. The odds of my independently picking out a drapey, non-maternity blouse in a shade called “watermelon” are, well, really low. All the same, I’m pretty deeply in love with this top, which manages to look “effortless” in a way that’s growing increasingly difficult as time marches on. From the directly cross-sectional view, it’s still not my favorite silhouette ever, but I’m not complaining: as I enter my third trimester during the hottest part of the year, pieces that look sophisticated and professional without a lot of layering are nothing to sniff at!
Have you also been bitten by the coral bug this spring and summer? What are your favorite ways to pair this somewhat daring shade?
Of course, there are bonus points available for identifying the literary reference in the post title. Hint: it appears in the second half of a contemporary novel by a female writer, set outside the U.S.
- Wine Jersey Dress: Japanese Weekend via eBay
- Taupe Draped Cardigan: vince via Nordstrom’s, gift from Mom
- Patterned Silk Scarf (below): mommed
- Brown Tweed Flats: LL Bean
Although I’ve had some anxieties about wearing flats while (increasingly!) pregnant, let’s be honest: some days, pregnant or otherwise, your legs and feet just hurt. Whatever they are, there are limits to the extent to which it makes sense to suffer physically for style, so sometimes, flats it is, short legs be damned. Or…something.
The beginning of the real, suffocating heat and humidity of summer is one of the hardest parts of the year to dress for in our region. The stunning contrast between the frozen tundra my office has felt like and the steamy mess outside has always been hard for me to navigate, and that’s been particularly true as my wardrobe has become more limited. These days, I’m vacillating on the pros and cons of draped top layers (like this one!): on the one hand, it was snuggly, comfortable and warm on a day when I was swamped and wanted to curl up in a blanket, and on the other, I can’t help but feel a bit, well, frumpy in it.
Because I wasn’t sure quite what climate zone I was walking into when I left the house, and because I’m a wee bit concerned about the neckline on this dress, I gave myself options. The silk scarf added some additional pops of color and pattern to the outfit, and added modesty without a great deal of bulk or warmth. The draped cardigan, for all my ragging on its frumpiness, is a sophisticated color and an elegant shape, and added warmth and a greater sense of “outfit” ness to the overall look. (Come on, you know you have that feeling: the one where you put on a short sleeved dress and just think, but…but…aren’t I supposed to wear more than one garment?). And as I’d hoped, the flats took some needed pressure off of my feet and legs, which made it easier to focus on the risk assessment I was working on.
How do you handle the “climate change” between inside and out this time of year? Do you dress for the weather indoors and then remove a layer when you’re walking outside, or vice versa?
- White Blazer: Diane von Furstenberg via Nordstrom’s, gift from Mom
- Navy Tee: Gap Maternity via Gap.com
- Navy Abstract Floral Skirt: induetime via eBay
- Brown Peep-Toe Wedges: Naturalizer via amazon.com
- Silver Necklace: gifted
My thousand-yard stare in this photo aside, I loved this outfit, which felt unique and creative and satisfying—regardless of whether anyone else noticed. First, it’s an almost hilarious mix of high and low (the rare this-season designer item mixed with a $15 Gap tee and a skirt I got on eBay for $1.99). I’m also taken with the ways it breaks and reinforces rules at once: it’s vaguely suit-like, without being a suit, and it reinforces norms of office formality while acknowledging the limitations of the weather, my changing shape and the realities of my maternity wardrobe. Lots of words for a basic, but important, idea: it felt intentional. And almost silly in the ways it was rebellious by my office’s standards, even if no one knew it.
This wasn’t, I realize, my most earth-shattering outfit. It wasn’t breaking new ground in fashion-forwardness (though I remain kind of obsessed with the shape of this blazer). That said, it represented an important part of my evolving process of learning to dress a new body in a new environment: it marked a moment when I felt like I had figured out enough rules to more or less organize what I wanted to wear and what rules I felt comfortable breaking (about which more later). I don’t know how much of this particular era of my style explorations will translate once I’m no longer pregnant and no longer working in this particular office, but I’m pretty confident that this particular lesson is one that should stick with me: the ability to navigate new sartorial environments and new adventures in body type and body image in a way that still feels like me—the me I want to be presenting in a new environment.
What rules were meant to be broken in your sartorial universe? How do you know you’ve “mastered” enough of these norms to start feeling comfortable challenging them?
- Black Maxi Dress: Japanese Weekend via eBay
- Silver Necklace: David Yurman, gifted
- Black Sandals: Aerosoles via Zappos.com
So, yes, Emily, another one bites the dust on our list of trends we swore we’d never wear: the maxi dress. Honestly, I’m still a little skeptical about maxis in general, and I’m not sure that I’d have worn this look were I not pregnant. That said, when this rayon jersey number from Japanese Weekend arrived from its eBay seller a few weeks ago, it’s possible I expressed an inappropriate amount of glee at the prospect of feeling downright sexy for a change.
Of course, the idea of “sexiness” in a pregnant gal is a fraught one, and merits more extensive unpacking than I’m prepared to do at the moment. For now, I’ll just say that I was trying to use the term more to mean the opposite of swollen than anything else!
I wore this dress (with a pashmina I haven’t pictured here) out to a special dinner with husband D. to celebrate our third wedding anniversary last week. It was one of my first totally work-free nights in a while, and it was a joy to come home a little early, go for a long walk, and then head out to celebrate (and no, the fact that it is to be our last anniversary celebration for a while that doesn’t involve a babysitter was not lost on us!). I loved the ease of this look, particularly in comparison to my many-layered, many-pieced work outfits. I could have, of course, added a cardigan or a scarf or a belt to provide warmth or further waist definition or what have you. And yet, I loved that the dress felt complete unto itself, and that it truly celebrated my current shape. So, yes, maxi dresses: I’m sorry for all the things I said about you. I can’t promise I’ll never say them again, but I’ll try. Hard. I promise.
Maxi dresses: yay or nay? With a height requirement? With heels? Formally or informally?
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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