J.Crew, J.Who?

Shopping in England provides unique challenges, to put it mildly. 

To be sure, there are gems to be found, like the fab Dolce & Gabbana culottes I found at a few weeks back at my favourite vintage shop, Corina Corina in Warwick; or the blissful retail therapy that is Oxfam online.

But, overall, I find "high street shopping" here very disappointing. Shops, like the ever-classic Laura Ashley and fun 'n funky White Stuff, with their exorbitant prices and ridiculously miniscule dress sizes - that offer no allowances for the female form - have left me lamenting the loss of my favourite Manhattan shops: J.Crew and Anthropologie. 

That is until now!

The DEB and I have been invited to a wedding for one of his work colleagues. It's a big 'do' and everyone is getting "glammed up." There was talk of us girls hiring sarees, but that plan was very short-lived. For weeks, no months, I have been fretting about what to wear, wanting to make a suitable splash. Indian weddings are very colorful affairs. And so, I was determined to branch out, and not resort to wearing my bog standard black!

I search hopelessly to find the perfect dress, and quite by accident, I stumbled across the perfect solution. I discovered the British fashion solution that is Monsoon. 

Monsoon is an odd hybrid: part J.Crew, part Anthropologie. Passing their shop in the Stratford-upon-Avon high street, initially, I'd  thought, "No way their stuff will work for me."

Being a shapely petite, I had previously been put off by some of their wares, which seem to lean toward a sort of "ethno-tribal" aesthetic. (That's fashion code for "large prints and crazy colours.")

But, quite by chance, I stumbled across "the perfect dress" by Monsoon. A seller on eBay UK who goes by the moniker "HiYouTart" caught my eye. She seems to have been peddling

Monsoon gear on eBay for donkey's years.

On offer recently, was a "silver-grey, silk linen, pencil shift dress" with my name on it!

 

Not a colour or shape I'd go for normally, but something about it said, "Yes, please!" Without hesitation, I bought it. I waited with bated breath until it arrived.

When it arrived, everything about it was right: the cut, the colour, the fabric, the empire waist, the cleavage-friendly ruched detailing at the wide neck-line...and, it fit like a dream

Trinny and Susannah would be proud!

Success at last!

That settled, the quest for bag and shoes begun. To my surprise, lightening struck twice, and I had immediate success after perusing the website of another popular British fashion retailer, Boden.

Boden's website was breath of fresh air, their look is very J.Crew. And I found the most delightful shoes.

Boden seem to speak my language, here's the description of their cute Embellished Heels:

There’s more than a touch of Marilyn Monroe to this desirable pair, and the kitten heel means you can run for a taxi and still pull off a glamorously dignified look. The single strap fitting across the toe will make your legs look even longer, and the wink of diamante clinches the film-star appeal. Kittenish.

Well, meow, indeed!

And of course, gorgeous matching bag...Hubba, hubba!

In Hamlet, Polonius advises his son Laertes to shop wisely as "apparel oft proclaims the man". Apparel always proclaims the woman, or so we are lead to believe. 

I think the one of the greatest gifts of aging/growing up is that you stop caring about tren

ds and what others think. You discover your own style, what works, what doesn't; what suits you and what you like.

So, let's just hope that our recent revelries  at The Boar's Head pub for "National Cask Ale Week" haven't taken it much of a toll! 

It will be just my luck not to fit in the "perfect dress". 

Trust me, it has happened before! 

Beers be damned! 

 

Help a sister out...

Dear Reader,

I have taken the plunge, and am now dabbling in the wacky world of eBay retail.

Please help support my "Blue & White" china habit by bidding on some of my offerings. My Seller id at ebay.co.uk is: theshakespearediva

My wares include two pairs of Brand New, never worn Vera Wang shoes; a new and never worn, gorgeous Demetrious wedding dress; and a fabulous little dress from J.Crew...soon to add more...maybe a little red number from Anthropologie...hmmm...

Relics of the past

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,/But not expresse’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy,/For the apparel oft proclaims the man. - Hamlet

Yesterday, I spent a rainy, October afternoon in the delightful company of Ella Myles, the proprietress of Corina Corina, Warwick town’s premiere Vintage and Pre-Loved Designer Fashion shop. In short, it’s a little slice of heaven.

Surprisingly, I was not there to buy, but there to sell. A very different, and utterly unique experience for me. Which has felt me thinking:

What is about women and clothes?

What is the mesmerizing connection between a woman and the bits of fabric that adorn her body, and her closet?

Clothes may only proclaim the man, but they certainly do make the woman.

Over steaming cups of coffee, Ella and I pondered over the treasures I have amassed, and are now ready (albeit in some cases quite, quite reluctantly) to part withal.

My reasons for selling are practical: due my new-found diet of carbs, with a side of carbs, most of this stuff just doesn’t fit anymore; but there is of course the financial incentive. I am used to being utterly independent and self-supporting. And so, this new-fangled life as “Taken Care Of Wife,”“Freelance Writer” and  “Freelance Scholar” sometimes feels a bit uncomfortable and ill-fitting, like my sexy, size 0, Nanette Lepore suit.

As a result, I find myself daily hatching plan after grand plan to revive my flagging spirits and welting career. This week, I was in need of a little instant gratification, hence my launch into the world of fashion re-sell.

It is ironic, how the tables have finally turned. In the not so distant past, “instant gratification” for me and my NYC diva chums, meant a spend binge in Soho (Anthropologie, anyone?), followed by over-priced, Earl Grey martinis at Pegu on West Broadway. Of course, we would weep for days after, racked with guilt at the money we’d spent.

I’ll have to phone my friend, who is now a “Happy Housewife and Mum of Two” living in Dubai, and see if she remembers these times.

Our tiny apartments were on opposite sides of Washington Square Park, and routinely, one or the other of us would make that mad dash through the Washington Square Arch, shopping bag in hand, frantically buzzing ourselves into the other’s building, to ultimately bang on the door and declare: “Look what I’ve done!” confessing and revealing the evidence.

“You paid how much!?” the other would respond in both disbelief and awe. But then, sensing the other’s desperate need for forgiveness and absolution, here came the salve: “Well, it is gorgeous. And you do deserve it. In fact, you’ve earned it!”

The remedy also resembled our Anglo-Catholic backgrounds: “Forgive yourself. Give something away to charity, have a few Bloody Marys and a Cosmo.”

Those were the days. Crazy, madcap, Manhattan days. It was dazzling, but it was also cold, brutal and harsh.

As I stood in Ella’s shop, examining each bit of clothing with her, it was like flipping through the pages of a book. Turning over the leaves of my single girl, Manhattan life storybook.

It broke my heart to let go of some of these things, like that Nanette Lepore suit. I actually saved up, and lost weight for that one! “It is sooo tiny!” Ella squealed. “Yes, sweetie, I was thin, thin, thin,” I explained. Then, suddenly, a realization:  “Thin, and unhappy.”  And, I was.

In that life, there were of course some truly magical moments, but it occurred to me, as I ran my hands over my luscious, lipstick red, Audrey Hepburn-esque, winter coat, with its stunning grey fur trim, that these clothes were in fact my security blankets in an uncertain and lonely world; my anchors in often troubled waters.

Releasing them now, was utterly liberating. Letting go of that chapter of my life completely. I left Ella’s shop with a spring in my step, and a much lighter load.

Corina Corina, The Midlands Most Chic Dress Agency 

 

 

 

The Art of Letting go...

Two years ago—in the midst of my ‘Single Girl’ life before the D.E.B.—I bought a wedding dress. I had no beau, no chap, and not a single wedding prospect on the horizon.  After putting in an Emergency Call in to St. Jude (the Saint of Hopeless Causes), I decided to follow the rather zany advice of my friend, "Bible-Belt Debutante":

“Honnnnneey,” she drawled down the phone, “You gotta show God you believe!”

By buying a wedding dress? – I said in disbelief. “Yeeees!!” she shouted down the phone (and I could sense that a “Hallelujah” was forthcoming shortly thereafter.) “You have to step out in faith! Like Lazarus! As the Lord once said, ‘Build it, and they will come’! So, buy the dress and the man will follow!”  

Nonsense? Perhaps. An excuse to go shopping? Why not.

So buy ‘the dress’ I did. In fact, I got so into this “Jesus said ‘build it and he will come’ idea” that I went ahead bought four (4) bridesmaids dress as well! (Anthropologie on Fifth Ave had a huge sale.)

Well, the D.E.B. did arrive. And so began a waiting game. A game of patience. It does make you wonder, doesn’t it, how our system is set up: Woman waits patiently (or not so patiently) until Man decides to ‘seal the deal,’ and pop the question. (I suppose there is always “Leap Year” for those gals who prefer to take matters into their own hands. )

As I’ve mentioned before (see posting: “Always Something There to Remind Me”) I have had varying degrees of success in my skills of waiting and patience, and thankfully I have been able to vent most of my angst here.  

Of course, friends were always ready and full of advice, also of varying degrees: “He’s got until February! That’s what I say!” – Banshee Friend wailed. “If he hasn’t done it by then, pack your stuff and get back to NYC!” (I have learned that doing the opposite of what Banshee Friend has to say is often the best way forward for me.)   

The best advice I had came from a sage and highly intuitive friend who advised several months ago that the best way to “gain what I want” is by “letting it go.” I could tell by the tone in her voice that another “act of faith” would be required on my part.

“Stop waiting for ‘The Proposal’,” she demanded. “You don’t need it. Just live your life. Let it go. Make peace with the situation you are in now.” And, just before she hung up/rang off: “Get rid of the dress.”

It took me a few weeks, but I finally got up enough courage to do it. To let the “faith dress” go, and ultimately to let go of what that wedding dress symbolized and represents. To relinquish control, and, as my Psychic Friend would say, “To trust the Universe.” So, I channeled my inner Angelina Jolie, and listed the “faith dress” on eBay.

The D.E.B. proposed 5 days later.