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

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

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

Crisis in Denim is Actually Pretty Impressed

I’ll never forget one of my favorite sweaters. I was in ninth grade, and the sweater was a charcoal grey wool cardigan with a small royal crest on the left side offering a tiny pop of red and yellow. It was Benetton, and the pride of my wardrobe. Even when I was young(er) I had a thing for simple, understated clothing in neutral colors. Of course, my peers were not impressed, since the Benetton logo wasn’t emblazoned across the chest. I don’t remember getting a single compliment on my Benetton cardigan unless I did some serious fishing.

Which is why I was not surprised to find that my favorite Olympic garb has been the grey jackets that the U.S. team members competing in indoor sports have been wearing on the podium during the medal ceremonies. I especially love that they are cinched at the waist and longer in the back with black piping and a simple patch on the side. Because I am a big fan of symbolism I especially like the 50 little notches on the back representing 50 states. Forget the bright ensembles worn for the opening ceremony. This simple jacket paired with black track pants has been my favorite Olympic wear.

I did have to laugh at a couple articles, especially this one in Forbes criticizing the understated silvery grey as not being patriotic enough, since apparently the American flag

I bet I would look almost as cute in this jacket as Missy Franklin does. Plus, I could swim 500 meters– it would only take me like an hour and a half.

sewn on the sleeve and the giant “The United States of America” across the back still leave room for confusion.

Also, apparently, anyone can buy one of these jackets for the low, low price of about $450. Enough people seem to have been sufficiently impressed with the jackets, because they are out of stock now.

If I can succeed in convincing the International Olympic Committee that wine drinking and New Yorker reading and sample-sale surfing are Olympic sports, I may just treat myself to one of these great silver jackets someday.

You Take the Good, You Take the Bad

For god only knows what reason, I had a dream the other night about Mrs. Garrett from The Facts of Life. Yeah, I know. My subconscious was pretty freaked out too.

After dreaming of that late 70s/early 80s sitcom about boarding school girls and their kindly house mother, I woke up with the overwhelming need to do some IMDBing.

Seen through a contemporary lens, the The Facts of Life had shortcomings. The show’s one African-American character had a somewhat belittling name (Tootie); another character made overtly violent threats at her classmates (Jo). My eight-year-old self didn’t understand this. Instead, I couldn’t wait each week to see the gorgeous, stuck-up Blair flip her blonde hair, flaunt her beautiful clothes, and reluctantly learn a life lesson.

When the world never seems to be living up to your dreams

What does this have to do with clothing? Well, in looking on IMDB, I found a picture of Blair and was immediately struck by how much her clothing resembles the clothes I see everywhere now—both in stores and out and about. I mean, I know the late 70s and early 80s are back. I see young(er) people wearing kicky little hats, shorts over tights, and oversized blazers. Still, I don’t think I realized just how MUCH the era was back until I saw  Blair’s platform open-toed sneakers, shortest of short shorts, and button-down midriff-tied shirt.

I was especially struck by the shoes. I guess because I was so little when the show first came out, I don’t remember platform sneakers from that era. Until my dream and subsequent IMDB session, I had figured they were a more modern outgrowth of the rise of athletic wear as fashion.

Although, I do have to say: Poor Mrs. Garrett. I mean, as much as viewers and characters alike loved her, she certainly got the short end of the stick in the costume department.

Ah well. As they say. You take the good you take the bad you take them both and there you have…

You knew that was coming, didn’t you?

Mullet Over. Get it?


The mullet may have seemed like a good idea for about 23 minutes back in the 1980s. Let’s face it: On the boys from Duran Duran, pretty much anything—including a hairstyle that was long and fringy in the back and short in the front—looked divine, especially if you were a 13 year old girl. But now the mullet has become synonymous with a whole lot of badness. In fact, when I want my hair stylist (to whom I give mad props) to trim more from the back and sides, I say “um, I think it’s still a teensy bit mullet-y,” and she knows what I mean.

The Mullet is Reincarnated in the Form of a Skirt. Yay.

Still, this season someone decided that designing skirts in the shape of the infamous hairstyle would be really smart. Ankle grazing in the back, short—sometimes absurdly so— in the front. I am far from being a fan of this style.

The mullet is also called “business in front, party in back.” The fact that the “business in the front” is knee length makes this mullet skirt not so egregious.

Now, admittedly, word lover that I am, I may just be reacting to the name, the word “mullet” conjuring up all kinds of shudder-worthy images from the 80s. Actually, on second thought, no. Mullet skirts are just ridiculous.

Six Degrees of Mulletness

I will say this, though. There are degrees of mulletness, and the embarrassing thing is that while wandering through Nordstrom the other day, I found myself pausing over a couple of the less mullet-y mullet skirts and having an “I wonder how this would look on me?” moment, which is always a dangerous first step. Something tells me that before the trend has vanished, I may have a mullet skirt hanging in my closet.

I promise I won’t get a mullet haircut, though.

Whither Worishofers?

You guys are cute and all. I just don’t think it’s going to work out.

After a recent shoe debacle that involved a pair of red Timberlands, the soles of my feet, and blisters the size of the drachma before Greece switched to the Euro, I began anew a quest for red sandals.

While on my journey I found myself regularly seeing these cute, well-priced cherry-red sandals by some brand called Worishofer. (When I went to Google them I remembered the brand as “Warshofsky” and found out about David Warshofsky who apparently is a TV actor who gets a lot of work, and also about Keith Warshofsky who is a criminal attorney in Tampa whom I hope I never have to call but you never know.). Then, I started noticing them on feet tooling up and down 7th Avenue in Park Slope the other day. Suddenly, they were everywhere.

Anyway, these sandals looked like the consummate old-lady shoes.  A little pattern cut into the leather. Thick-corked soles. Other styles had laces. They even had a medical-looking “plus” sign branding them as orthopedic shoes. So I just knew they were so grandma-like that I would never, not for one minute, be hip enough to wear them. Continue reading

Gettin’ Jeggings With It

It’s been about a year since I first heard tell of this new denim phenomenon of “jeggings.” The word is a hybrid of “jeans” and “leggings,” and is the stretchy style of jeans everyone is wearing these days, because their tapered legs and skin-tightness make them easy to tuck into boots.

But the moment, the very second, I heard the word “jeggings,” all I could think of, and really, I mean ALL I could think of, was the 1997 Will Smith hit “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It.”  To my ears, “jeggings” and “jiggy” sound remarkably similar.

Totally from the Gap website. Totally.


This is very unfortunate. Because Men in Black and Men in Black II are among my favorite movies, and I think Will Smith is hilarious and adorable in them. But “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It” is just not the song you want to have stuck in your head every time you go shopping.

Sadly, I fear you will curse my name, because the next time you hear or see the word “jeggings” in a store or a magazine, you will want to bust out into a “na na na na na na…. gettin’ jiggy wit it” chorus. I promise.

Meantime, as long as we’re on the subject, I’ll just mention that I lucked out purchasing jeggings this season. All the A-list brands (read: more than $150) I always love so much, looked like crap on me. Where I scored, surprisingly, was at a place I almost never have luck, and that was at the Gap.

So I bought me two pair, for less than the price of one of the fancier brands.

But wait, the story gets better.

Because the day after I bought them, I was cruising down the I-84 between Boston and New York, when suddenly my friend texted me and told me that in the 22 hours since I’d bought the jeans everything in the Gap had suddenly gone on sale for 45% off.

Now, I don’t want to complain, but wouldn’t it have been nice if when I had bought the jeans the day before, 15 minutes before closing time , the saleswoman had said “pssst, why don’t you come back tomorrow morning because we’re doing a Columbus Day sale and everything will be almost HALF OFF?” Yes, that would have been nice.

But lucky for me, Ms. CinD has her sources on the ground. And just as I glanced at that text, I also happened to see a sign for a mall.

No joke.

So picture it like it happens on TV, when the heroine gets a text, reads it, gasps in shock, then turns her wheel sharply to the right, screeching off the highway at the next exit.

That was just about what I did.

A few minutes later I was at the register at the Gap, pestering the manager to let me return and buy back the same exact pairs I had bought just a day ago as the line stacked up behind me (“But if I’m going to buy them back anyway, why can I just keep the ones I already have that I know fit just right!?!”). Mere moments after that, I was cruising out of Connecticut with a $64 refund on my credit card.

I say that’s cause for celebration. Would someone turn on the music? Okay… all together now: “Na na na na na na na… Gettin’ jeggings wit it…”