Pajamas and Staying Warm Through Hurricane Sandy

Mom and I bought matching puffin pajama pants on a trip to Maine one summer.

Holing up in my apartment to ride out Hurricane Sandy in Brooklyn, wearing a hoodie and a pair of puffin-print pajama bottoms I bought in Maine, I found myself thinking about the things we wear when we want to cozy up.

I went through a phase a few years ago when I was really into Nick & Nora for Target flannel pajamas. I had pink ones with coffee cups and a pair with elephants wearing striped scarves and hats (yeah, I don’t know either). I had ones with snow globes, and ones with penguins. I thought of the Beverly Cleary story I’d loved as a child, in which Ramona wants to hold onto that tucked-into-bed feeling all day, so she wears her flannel pajamas to school under her clothes; with all those layers on, hilarity ensues. Hunting around to write this post, I found pajamas with pictures of wine bottles, owls, cupcakes, and high-heeled shoes. And, of course, more than plenty with pictures of cats in all shapes and sizes.

Pajamas for people who love shoes, by the brand PJ Salvage. Are there pajamas for people who love pajamas? That would be quite meta.

Why do grown women want to wear cute printed pajamas? Do we, like Ramona the Pest, want to hang on to a little piece of childhood and be transported back to a simpler time?

What do you wear when you want to feel secure, when you’re settling in to spend an entire day inside while the world howls—literally—outside your window? Sweats? Yoga pants? Your college sweatshirt? Kitty-cat pajamas? Let me know.

It seems especially important to feel—and stay—safe and warm this week. New York and New Jersey are reporting multiple storm-related deaths. As I write this there is a building on fire in Queens;  NYU’s hospital is being evacuated; hundreds of thousands of customers are without power.  Wear whatever you’d like, as long as you stay safe.

Building a Wardrobe for Life

An article in this month’s More magazine struck a chord with me. More‘s tagline is “for women of style and substance,” which I take to be marketing code for “women in their forties who are smart and look good for their age.” Since I will be one of those women in a few short months, I’ve started reading the magazine with some regularity.

In this piece the author, Jennifer Braunschweiger, forces herself to consider every last item in her closet. “If I put it on, and then take it off, I have to give it away…If I wear it to work and feel uncomfortable, out it goes as well.” (You can see a slideshow of Braunschweiger’s closet project in More magazine online, but the essay is only available in the hard-copy magazine, and it’s worth a read.)

She continues, “a closet isn’t a museum or an archive. It should be a simple storehouse of clothes that reflect who I am today and that I can wear to work tomorrow. .. Letting go of clothing is letting go of who I used to be.”

Closet as Archive

That’s true, but for me there’s something more. The truth is, and I say this without meaning to sound like the world’s biggest Debbie Downer, but I have had little success to date in building the things most women my age have. Through many missteps for which I take full responsibility, a couple strokes of bad luck, and a select few cases of good old-fashioned getting screwed over, I haven’t as yet succeeded in building a lucrative, flourishing career or a family of my own.

But a wardrobe? Now that, I have managed to build.

Don’t get me wrong. I have managed to grow as a person these last years and I’ve certainly had some successes.  But the truth is that one of the few very tangible things I have to show from my last 10 years is my wardrobe. If I dismantle it blouse by sweater by skirt, what do I have to show for the last decade? Continue reading

Wake Up and Face Your Closet

It’s that time again.

Yes, that time. Time to decide what I’m going to wear to work tomorrow.

Much as I love clothing, I hate this part of my day. I mean, I can barely make it through one day, and before that day is out you want me to start planning for the next? Whatever happened to living in the moment, people?

Tocky the rolling alarm clock

Waking up is hard to do. So I bought Tocky, the alarm clock that rolls around so you have to get out of bed and chase it around the room. My cat isn’t a fan. Photo courtesy of Brookstone.

When I had a job where I started work at 4 a.m. (yes, you read that right), picking out the next day’s outfit was part of the pre-bed routine. I laid out everything, down to my, um… everything. That way I could sleep as late as possible and get dressed on autopilot.

Now, though, I tend to put off this task until I am showered and standing in front of my closet bemoaning the fact that I have nothing to wear. An early-morning denim crisis, if you will. Sometimes I even lie in bed an extra few minutes, telling myself that I’m mentally reviewing the contents of my closet and deciding what to wear. This tends to work not that well.

However, when I pick out my clothes the night before, I find it shaves a much-needed five to seven minutes off my morning routine. I’ve even—don’t laugh—looked for Lifehacker articles on how to buy time in the morning, but I haven’t found much of use.

I’m curious– is there anyone else out there who loves clothes but loathes having to decide what to wear every day? Do you choose your outfit the night before, or wait for inspiration to strike in the a.m.? Do you, god help me, put together a week’s worth of outfits on Sunday?

Okay, you write, while I get into bed and maybe think about what I’m wearing tomorrow. Or not.

Ruminations on Cashmere Sweaters

Poor pitiful me. I’ve never had a cashmere sweater. I think the closest I came was a tangerine-colored J-Crew cashmere shell bought at a sample sale more than 10 years ago. I wore it as a tank on cooler summer nights a few times, but mostly it lived under jackets and cardigans.

But a proper cable-knit crewneck? Dare I say, a cashmere sweater set? I’ve only ever been worthy of blends, it seems

But my life is poised for a change this week with the White+Warren sample sale at Clothingline in the Garment District this Tuesday–Thursday, October 16–18. I’m a huge fan of knits by W+W, a New York-based company that makes simple, classic basics, mostly in neutral hues.

Cashmere Goat

Hello, handsome. A cashmere goat.

Cashmere is never cheap, since it takes the soft, fine undercoat of two cashmere goats to produce one two-ply sweater, according to the Cashmere and Camel Hair Manufacturers Institute. (Who knew such an organization existed?) Cashmere pieces by White and Warren, a staple among celebrities, are definitely never cheap.

Meantime, we all know sample sales are hit or miss, so if I don’t score a cashmere piece this week, apparently you can breed and raise your own herds of cashmere goats, the way some people practice beekeeping as a pastime. I’m not kidding. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) Though it may not go over well in my 84-unit New York apartment, I’m thinking. So here’s hoping for success at the sample sale this week.

Make Mine a Double: Gap Men’s Khakis and Jameson

A Boston Globe article this past weekend about stores enticing shopping-phobic men through their doors by offering whiskey and other manly perks reminded me of this one time back when I lived in Phoenix. I was out doing some shopping when I saw a sign in the window of the Gap.

It read: “Try on a pair of men’s khakis, get $10 off any purchase!”

I approached a salesgirl. “So can I try on a pair of men’s khaki’s and get the $10 discount?” I was all set to wage a sartorial feminism campaign a la Gloria Steinem. “Gap gives better discounts to men! I’d call the corporate offices first thing Monday morning.

Jameson Irish Whiskey Bottle Shot GreenBut the salesgirl shrugged. “Yeah, of course. We can’t offer a discount to men and not to women. That would probably be illegal or something.” Continue reading

O Black Sweater at Marshalls, Where Art Thou

The other day, Nurse V mentioned that she needed clothes for an upcoming vacation, and asked if I would help her shop. She really had to twist my arm, as you can imagine, and we wound up at Marshalls in Brooklyn’s Atlantic Center.

Now, when it comes to brand-name discount stores, shopping at that Marshalls means seriously kicking it old school. It makes browsing at the Upper West Side Loehmann’s that I know and love looks like amateur hour. At Marshalls, there are only a few racks organized by designer, and almost no neat endcaps displaying merchandise in that spare, boutique style that makes you want to buy something.

No, this Marshall’s offers up endless racks of clothes divided into the most basic categories. Shirts. Sweaters. Pants. Small. Medium. Large.  Not for the faint of heart, was this Marshall’s. Luckily, Nurse V and I were up to the challenge. We patiently went through each rack in Nurse V’s size, evaluating every piece of clothing.

Once my friend had a decently sized “definitely coming home with me” pile as well as a a reasonable “maybe” one (many items successfully found by me, I’m just saying), I went in search of a little something-something for myself.

Gold buttons like the ones on the sweater I left at Marshalls.

I am bad at taking camera-phone pics in dressing rooms, so I don’t have a picture of the Magaschoni sweater from Marshalls. Just picture a very plain, long-sleeved black sweater, crew-neck. The gold-button detailing at the shoulder was made from buttons that looked like these. It’s the best I could do.

Which was when I happened upon a black crew-neck Magaschoni sweater. Simple and elegant, it was plain except for a row of gold disk-shaped buttons running from the chest to the shoulder. It looked fabulous on. It had been almost $200 and was now a reasonable $50.

Continue reading

Crisis in Denim Contemplates Letting Herself Go

Lately, I’ve been thinking about letting myself, well…how shall I say it?

Amy's Bread Pink Frosted Cake

I would eat an entire one of these in one sitting, if I could just bring myself not to care about fitting into super-cute clothes. It’s delicious. Plus, it’s pink, like my blog. Photo courtesy of Amy’s Bread.

I’ve been thinking about letting myself go. Really go to seed. As in, drop that Abs Attack! class and let my only exercise be the walk from the couch to the freezer for a gallon of Edy’s Slow Churned (Light ice cream ceases to be “light” when you eat one dozen servings over the course of as many hours, bee-tee-dubs.).

I mean, here I am, pushing middle age. Single. We all know it’s right about now that gravity really starts to gain the upper hand anyway, so why not let gravity do its thing (exert its saggy forces on my body), while I do my thing (eat a tub of ice cream the size of my head all in one sitting)? I’d never have to have a denim crisis when my cropped Paige jeans felt snug. Instead, I’d just pull on my fave elastic-waist jeans.

Well, here’s my reason: Continue reading

Friends and Family Sales: You’re One of Us Now

The other night when I stopped in at Loehmann’s on my way home, a friendly lady at the entrance handed me a coupon for 20 percent off everything in the store. Sale stuff. Non-sale stuff. Expensive shoes. Cheap shirts. Purses. EVERYTHING.

Baby chicks sale sign

Browsing on Pinterest for a “sale” sign I came across this, and thought it was super cute, and somewhat relevant. A little.

Apparently it was their friends and family sale. All stores seem to have these periodically and I’m not sure why they’re called that, but I’m always happy to consider myself a friend—even a relative—of anyone having a sale.

Meantime, as I roamed Loehmann’s, I found myself doing that thing that I’m sure we all do (I’m curious– do you do it to?)… that thing where you’re constantly calculating, and doing it so quickly it becomes automatic. Everything I saw I said to myself “Oh! But it’s not that price! I’d be getting another 20 percent off!”

At one point I even saw a gorgeous brown leather Michael Kors skirt and said “Oh, it’s not really $600. It’s another 20 percent off!”(No I did not even let myself think about letting myself consider thinking about trying it on. Yes it was beautiful. I can’t find a picture. You’ll have to take my word for it.) Continue reading

New Year’s Resolutions, Crisis in Denim Style

Frye boots, Bordeaux color

Maybe this will be the year these gorgeous Frye bordeaux-colored boots (their color name, not mine), magically land in my closet.

Being Jewish brings with it many burdens (the guilt! the guilt!), not the least of which is having to mark not one but two new years (the regular January one, and Rosh Hashana), which means not one but two sets of resolutions to break and feel guilty about later.

It’s good to have resolutions large and small to cover all aspects of your life. I mean, sure I have big resolutions that involve vowing to be a better person, one who smiles and says ‘excuse me’ to the fellow subway passenger with her bag on a seat rather than one who gives the scowl of death and wishes she had one of those handbags that is also a set of rings that is also a weapon until said passenger sheepishly moves her bag (even though it is COMPLETELY against New York City subway etiquette to have your bag on a seat during rush hour when people are STANDING, I’m just SAYING.).

What I’m getting at is that I like to start the new year with some smaller resolutions as well. Not personality-changing ones, necessarily, but sartorial ones that will make getting dressed in the morning more efficient and pleasureable; resolutions that will keep me from spending money on things I don’t need, while helping me enjoy the ones I already have.

So here, in no particular order, are my top Rosh Hashana resolutions, Crisis in Denim style: Continue reading

White SLAP Watch Me Silly

I’m pretty certain that the day I decide to wear a fabulous off-white sundress will be the day I spill a quadruple venti nine-pump mocha (with skim milk, of course) all over myself. Needless to say, I have tended to shy away from the white-jeans trend, I have only one white blouse, and I don’t even own a classic white t-shirt. I did wear a fancy white dress on one fateful day, but I can’t say as that turned out real well.

White SLAP Watch

The white SLAP Watch I bought Mom. I want one tooooo….Photo courtesy of Amazon.com.

However, inexplicably, I have become a hugundous fan of white watches. In fact, as soon as one caught my eye, I started noticing them on wrists all across the city. Then, around that time, Mom announced that she wanted a white SLAP Watch.

Permit me just a moment to explain. Last year, Mom and I discovered SLAP watches in a little boutique in Maine. We each bought the all-black one with the all-black face, no numbers, and orange hands. I love mine, especially since I’m a sucker for solid neutrals with just a smattering of color.  If you don’t look too closely, it looks like a watch I might have purchased at the MOMA Design Store. Mom got into the whole mix and match faces and bands thing which is one of SLAP’s hallmarks, so I bought Mom a white SLAP watch.

Now I want one (insert super-annoying whiney voice here) and am searching for the slightly Continue reading