A Firsthand Accounting of 2011 and my Year in (Mostly Secondhand) Clothes

It was a hard year in many ways. I finished radiation treatment for my brain tumor, and had to leave the South Pacific to return to the northeastern US - to my old life. We had sublet our house (since we had expected to be gone until July 2011), so we moved into an apartment on the west side of Providence. I went back to the same office at Brown, and while there is comfort in what is familiar, there were times when I felt like I had stepped back several years in my career and that I was once again doing the very tasks I had sought to escape. Thanks, cancer.

However, I'm not one to dwell too much on the past and on what's negative. I've been tremendously blessed by love and support over this past year. My work situation may not be ideal, but I'm fortunate to have a job with terrific colleagues and with amazing health insurance that fully covers the $18K a year in MRIs that I get, as well as the consultations with my wonderful new oncologist. 

And I have more flexibility in my schedule now. I meet my daughter most days when she gets off the school bus, and for the first time in my adult life, I haven't worked full-time. That's been freeing, as was, perhaps ironically, turning 40. Between brain cancer and my (advancing) age, it's easier than ever to just not give a fuck about what people think. Last winter and spring, before I was allowed to drive again, I took the bus back and forth to work. Unless it was freezing out, I didn't wear a hat. Here's a family pic from early April (taken on the High Line in NYC). You can see that I was pretty bald:

But I didn't give a fuck. I still had my fabulous quilted orange vest, and my eBay Celine scarf, and most importantly, the two girls I love most sitting next to me. And so when punks on the bus would menacingly stare at me and my bald head, I'd stare back, thinking, What the hell are you looking at? Yeah, that's right. You think you can intimidate me? My brain tumor is far scarier than your punk-ass 15-year-old self. And once I met their gazes long enough, they'd stop staring.

This attitude also meant that it was time to stop being an apologist for my absolute love of clothes and secondhand shopping. I might be an academic, but I refuse to wear clogs and a drab palette. (Filmmaker John Waters thinks clogs are "the most offensive shoe known to man," and I am inclined to agree.) There's too much fun to be had in clothes to limit myself to wearing shades of gray... even if my worldview insists on thinking in nuances and shades of gray. I take pleasure in clothes and in textiles and design, in crafting outfits that are sometimes performative and that wink at my Fairfield County upbringing. Yes, I'm a preppy queer feminist who loves Lilly Pulitzer and Tory Burch (when I find their clothes secondhand, of course). And horse racing. In the words of Walt Whitman, "I am large, I contain multitudes."

So as 2011 draws to a close, I want to take a moment to highlight some of my favorite things this year. First, aside from the vest pictured above (and elsewhere on this blog) and my bright pants, it's also been a great year for orange accessories, although this is hardly an exhaustive inventory: 

Cuff bracelet by Leighelena, Dovecote, Westport, CT

Boiled wool felt ring, Cocoon, Istanbul, Turkey

The stunning Hermès "Voyage en Etoffes" scarf (by Annie Faivre), a Christmas gift from my generous, fun cousins

Believe it or not, however, my wardrobe does indeed extend beyond orange! Here are some of my best finds of the year:

This tunic, by Catherine Ogust, was known as the "Burma" shirt (thank you, Couture Allure Vintage Fashion blog), and probably dates from about 1970. It was in impeccable condition when I found it at Savers last summer for $4.99. Here I wear it with white Trina Turk pants (eBay), a Coach scarf (consignment), a ridiculous pair of sandals that have pink pom-poms (consignment), and a vintage pink Lucite bracelet ($1, thrift store)... plus a wonderfully bright and totally ridiculous Lilly Pulitzer bag that my friend Max bought me. 

In this ensemble I feel like I could have been an extra on the set of The Swimmer. I've never actually seen the film - although clips are available on YouTube - but it was first a fantastic John Cheever story about (what else?) anomie in suburban Connecticut. Seriously, who hasn't felt that in Fairfield County? What was it I was saying about clothing being performative? 

Another clear favorite this year was the Missoni top I found for 3 euros at a flea market in Porto Ercole, Italy, in July:

And I've found some great (non-orange) accessories, too:

Celine scarf, Savers, $4.99

Vintage leopard fur clip earrings, 25 cents, yard sale*

Vintage suede and metal belt, 25 cents, yard sale

Tod's loafers with (yes!) orange tassels, $99 but worth it, consignment store 

*Let me be clear that I would never buy nor wear new fur products. What should the ethics be of wearing vintage fur? I'm undecided. If vintage fur isn't worn, what becomes of it? Landfills? Do people bring their grandmothers' old mink stoles out to the woods and leave them to disintegrate? (I do wear leather, and I do eat meat 2-3 days a week.) All I know is that these things are complicated.

I am happy to say that I had a strong finish to my year in secondhand shopping. This nautical Kate Spade tote was $15.99 at the West Warwick Salvation Army thrift store on December 27. It needed one new $2 rivet to fix the handle. Done and done, and good as new:

Finally, the year ended on a couple of very, very bright notes: I found the vintage pink cashmere sweater at Savers last week, and on December 30, I found this Averardo Bessi top at Savers as well, along with the orange Gap Body t-shirt beneath it. Bessi was a former designer for Pucci who opened his own design house in 1950. Still, with its big bright paisleys, the resemblance to Pucci is unmistakable:

I'm hoping for a 2012 that is characterized by continued good health, published writing (I'll keep the dream alive), falling in love with new books and poetry and music and art, more snorkeling, time laughing with the people I love, seeing Lucero live (they're coming to PVD in April!), personal bests in distance and time for running, and, of course, the new and wonderful secondhand finds that will be revealed in time. 

That seems like a pretty good set of resolutions. 

Happy New Year. Love what you wear, and dress well.

Namaste,

Kelley

Indian textiles

Where to begin? For someone as obsessed with textiles, colors, and patterns as I am, India was a non-stop visual feast. This was our room at Shahpura House, a "heritage hotel," in Jaipur. We'd never before stayed anywhere with such fabulous bedlinens. 

It seemed that nearly every surface at Shahpura House was painted and carved in and with traditional Rajasthani patterns and details:

Ceiling view

Common area

Despite the fact that we were in India primarily to attend the wedding of the wonderful Gayatri Singh and Benjamin Clark, most of the photographs I took were of art and architectural details, like the above, and at City Palace in Jaipur. This is one of my favorite shots from the trip, and is of a corner:

But wait, you say: isn't this blog about clothes? Of course it is. Of course. And the shopping in India was as marvelous as I had hoped. We (I) wisely packed 2 extra bags inside our checked luggage so that we could get everything home. Here are just a few samples of clothes I bought, each representing different textile traditions from South Asia.

At FabIndia, I found this black sleeveless top which has Kashmiri-style crewelwork embroidery, which I actually wore under my wedding sari (shhh!):

At Anokhi, I bought an indigo-dye top with lovely red contrast detail on the button loops:

And at Soma, I fell in love with the circular block print designs on this top, which has a solid brown border and a jaunty cut on the bottom:

Of course, it wouldn't have been a trip to Soma without buying a bright silk chiffon block print scarf. So many times on this trip I thought, "Hooray for marigold yellow and marigold orange!" 

I also found my new favorite pants at Soma. They're more of a Western cut (I don't love the baggy drawstring thing on most Indian pants - not at 5' tall), and they're machine washable... unlike that crewelwork top and (oh god) that indigo shirt. 

Best of all, though, was when I found the little pendant painting of Ganesh at the City Palace shop in Jaipur, pictured here on the new Soma pants, because I realized that Ganesh and I were wearing THE SAME PANTS. 

There's so much more to muse about - the cultural collisions of old and new India everywhere we turned, other block prints and embroidery traditions (in which I'll bust out photos of my Bangladesh purchases from 2008), Turkish tilework from our whirlwind 36 hours in Istanbul, and a year-end roundup, but I'm going to sign off for now with one last picture, showing that there's good design in India even on matchbooks:

Namaste,

Kelley

Stay frosty

It's been five weeks since I last posted, due to a perfect storm of ongoing family health issues, the momentum of the teaching semester, and freelance work (in addition to the other things that always keep me busy). 

November in southern New England was "unseasonable." I was running in shorts some days, as it was 60 degrees outside and positively balmy. Dogwood and apple trees were blossoming. As Sam said, "This weather would be lovely if it didn't seem like a sign of the apocalypse." 

There was frost on the ground just the other day, cold enough to finally warrant a wool coat and warm hat. I love both the bright "poppy" color and the cut of this Charles Nolan coat, which I found at a consignment store. I've had the ultrasuede Alessandra Bacci hat for years - it came from Marshall's - and it's served me well through many winters. The Indian silk scarf was a gift.

Sometimes, of course, my clothing is not so much joyful as it is performative (although I'd argue that all clothes are performative, even when it's not obvious). I like to think that this outfit - especially when paired with my black leather jacket - makes me look like some version of a bad girl at a Catholic school, the kind of girl you'd cut class and smoke a joint with behind the gym (think Tammy Metzler in "Election"). 

Shirt and vest, Thomas Pink. Scarf (as tie), Hermes, on loan. 

Belt, Tommy Hilfiger, thrift store. Skirt, Berger and Mikkelson, New Zealand thrift store.

And sometimes "performative" means wearing clothes that are walking studies of colors and patterns, like this riot of black and white against the pop of a bright wool felt skirt. This mod coat was a 30th birthday gift from my dear friends John and Ester, and had belonged to John's grandmother. She must have been exactly my size, because I didn't need to have it hemmed. The knit tunic top has appeared on this blog before - it came from a flea market in Porto Ercole, Italy, and I suspect it's Missoni (it lacks a label but does have a "Made in Italy" tag inside). The bag is by Orla Kiely (a consignment store purchase), and while the pattern is of flatware, I think it also vaguely resembles a city skyline.

I aim to post more before I depart for Delhi next Saturday, but it's going to be a crazy week, with preparations for the trip, the last day of class, and, more importantly, my next MRI and followup with the oncologist. 

Here's a little autumn inspiration until my next post: pink dogwood, blooming in November, and some really gorgeous leaves from Boston (the roundish ones with the tie-dye effect are birch).

Does this mean the End Times are near? 

Until next time, Namaste, and dress well.

Kelley