#then printing it on a fancy textured pa | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

creativinn · 5 years ago

Text

New Nassau County Museum of Art Exhibition Highlights All Four Seasons

April Gornik, Sand, Shadows, Time, 2010, oil on linen, 74 x 95 inches (Image courtesy of Miles McEnery Gallery)

“The Seasons” at the Nassau County Museum of Art, located at 1 Museum Dr. in Roslyn, explores the creative response of artists to the spirit of the four seasons, brought to you by perennial favorite co-curators Franklin Hill Perrell and Debbie Wells of Artful Circle.

This exhibition is complete with a full harvest of paintings, sculpture, photography and design. From traditional landscapes to avant-garde works, The Seasons offers a fanciful experience of every season and an endearing look at holidays through the eyes of artists across the past century.

As you explore the galleries, see how artists have responded to color, texture, and shapes from nature. Feel the flow of the art depicting one season to the next, just as they do throughout the year. It is a great opportunity for celebrating the joy of the four seasons though a variety of lively depictions in styles. Be sure to record your visit on social media–there are some great spots for taking photos.

Key artists in the exhibition include:

Painters: Marc Chagall, Grandma Moses, Norman Rockwell, Hunt Slonem, Toulouse-Lautrec, Wolf Kahn, David Hockney, Ashley Longshore and Pieter Brueghel the Younger

Photography and Prints: Jasper Johns, Andy Warhol and Tina Barney

Sculptors: Federico Uribe, Peter Anton and Lesley Dill

Illustrators: Milton Glaser, Al Hirschfeld, Roz Chast and JC Leyendecker

Long Island Artists: Jane Freilicher, April Gornik, Christine D’Addarrio, Frank Olt, Glen Hansen, Adam Straus, Christian White, Bruce Lieberman, Susan Cushing and Mort Künstler.

Fashion: Diane von Furstenberg and Lilly Pulitzer

In addition, there is a special show, a loving tribute to Judith Leiber, handbag designer extraordinaire. She and her artist-husband Gerson lived in the springs hamlet of East Hampton. Both of them died at age 97 (within hours of each other) in 2018.

The Nassau County Museum of Art thanked Long Island-based Kravet Fabrics for their generous donation of materials for the exhibition installation. The exhibition runs through March 1, 2020.

Museum Programming

Artist in the Gallery: Susan Cushing • Saturday, Dec. 7, at 3 p.m.

Free with museum admission.

Susan Cushing is a true original with a vision of the all too rarely seen in today’s art: it’s the “good life”—most likely Palm beach or Southampton, viewed through the lens of her own very special vantage point- a world of elegant cocktail parties by the pool, stylishly dressed people enjoying each other’s company. The girls wear Lily Pulitzer, men wear blue double breasted jackets and straw hats; rather like Alex Katz in projecting only positive news, everyone looks their best, no wrinkles, grey hair, and kids are always sunny and well-behaved.

Artist in the Gallery: Christian White • Sunday, Dec. 8, at 3 p.m.

Free with museum admission.

Christian White is a painterly realist in the tradition of Fairfield Porter, which is to say, that elements of abstraction and Expressionism are often a feature in the composition or handling of pigments. He has a bold and sophisticated way with design, and the painting exhibited, from the collection of the Long Island Museum is exemplary as a Long Island scene by one of Long island’s historically most important landscape painters. White is also an eloquent speaker and esteemed teacher.

Curators’ Panel Discussion • Sunday, Dec. 15, at 3 p.m.

$30 for members; $40 for non-members. Click here to register online.

Join us for a panel discussion with two stars of art history, The Seasons co-curators Franklin Perrell and Debbie Wells and one of horticulture, Richard Weir. Guest co-curators Franklin Hill Perrell and Debbie Wells take you through the seasons for an entertaining look at the paintings, sculpture, photography, fashion and design in the museum’s exhibition, The Seasons. Joining them on the panel will be popular radio personality and lecturer Richard Weir, horticultural and environmental educator and author who teaches at Cornell University. Weir will give his perspective on the seasons in nature and in art with a special focus on plants mainly from Long Island and the northeast (and his expert tips on how to plant and care of them!). Perrell and Wells will show how the artists in the show respond to color, texture, and shapes from nature and celebrate the transition between the seasons, such as the cavalcade of flowers shrubs and trees that denote each time of year. As a special bonus, all three speakers will give expert commentary on their favorite pieces in the exhibition and give the audience opportunity to discuss theirs. Join us after for a wine and cheese reception.

Artist in the Gallery: Peter Anton • Sunday, Jan. 12, at 3 p.m.

Free with museum admission.

Peter Anton does trompe l’oeil sculptures, in a hyper-realist mode, of such foods of the seasons as watermelon for summer, pecan pie for winter, or a heart-shaped box of candies for Valentine’s Day. For Anton, the exemplary colors, textures, and taste of these items conjure up a vision of those times of year. The tradition of still life painting goes back hundreds of years, but these works are distinctly pop in flavor, because of their giant scale and iconic status as immediately recognizable images.

A Talk on Anna Mary Robertson Moses: Grandma Moses with Jane Kallir of Galerie St. Etienne • Sunday, Feb. 9, at 3 p.m.

Free with museum admission.

Grandma Moses’ painting captures her vision of the upstate countryside in winter, with farm houses, barns and animals in the snow. Her work embodies a certain attitude toward well-being and abundance. That she was discovered as an artist when she was already in her eighties, by a specialist in German Expressionism, Dr. Otto Kallir, the founder of Galerie St. Etienne, is consistent with how such art (once termed folk art, later outsider, and now self-taught) is indicative of America’s vernacular culture and also came to be esteemed for its kinship with modernism.

Artist in the Gallery: Frank Olt • Sunday, Feb. 23, at 3 p.m.

Free with museum admission.

Frank Olt is a contemporary who expands upon the NY School ideas of abstraction but with the unique twist of using ceramic media and glazing to create an idiom at the intersection of color field and bold abstraction, producing richly hued abstract imagery with just a hint of the landscape. It’s the color and pattern in these works that bespeak the season, and with the four-piece work in the exhibition.

A Talk on the Life and Art of Judith Leiber • Sunday, March 1, at 3 p.m.

Free with museum admission.

Ann Fristoe Stewart, Collections Manager of the Leiber Collection, presents the work of internationally celebrated handbag designer Judith Leiber. Fristoe will discuss the illustrious life of Leiber and her prolific career as a Hungarian-American fashion designer and entrepreneur. Leiber founded her own business in 1963 and is known for her crystal minaudières, evening purses made of a metal shell often encrusted with Swarovski crystals, plated with silver or gold that took various forms, such as baby pigs, slices of watermelon, cupcakes, peacocks, penguins and snakes.

—Submitted by the Nassau County Museum of Art

The post New Nassau County Museum of Art Exhibition Highlights All Four Seasons appeared first on Long Island Weekly.

This content was originally published here.

0 notes

micaramel · 5 years ago

Link

Some popular trends of the 2010s are predicted to fall out of fashion in the 2020s.

Neon colors, skinny jeans, patterned leggings, and chunky sneakers are on their way out.

Professionals told Insider that cold-shoulder tops and garments with lace accents won't be as popular next year.

Visit Insider's homepage for more stories.

Although some fashions are timeless, a few major trends from the 2010s are predicted to fade in the next decade in order to make way for fresh new looks.

To figure out what's here to stay and what's on its way out, Insider spoke to a range of style experts.

Here are some fashions from the past decade that experts predict will be out of favor in the 2020s.

Skinny jeans will be ousted in favor of looser styles.

Skinny jeans may have been a staple in your closet for the past decade, but professional fashion-trend analyst and forecaster Marie-Michèle Larivée told Insider that they are on their way out.

"The skinny shape took over the jeans market in early 2010; It was the key shape to wear. However, fashion is a cycle and the pendulum is slowly swinging to the other extreme. Skinny jeans will be replaced by a looser fit of jeans and a flared leg," said Larivée.

Boot-cut and relaxed, boyfriend-style jeans are poised to become the standard jean silhouette of the 2020s, she explained. Culottes, palazzo pants, and even bell-bottoms will also likely be hot items in the coming decade.

Ultra-high heels will be swapped out for lower, trendier footwear.

Although 4-, 5-, and 6-inch heels were considered de rigueur for evening wear in the 2010s, television fashion stylist Cindy Conroy told Insider that lower heels and dressy flats will rule the 2020s.

"I'm happy to say stilt-like heels are taking a major fashion nap. Likely because no one can comfortably walk in them for extended periods of time," said Conroy.

Ankle-breaking stilettos may be out, but fancy footwear is still in vogue. Conroy told Insider that ultra-high heels will be replaced with comfort-driven shoes like slides, flats, sandals, and exaggerated chunky heels.

Ripped jeans are on their way out.

Fashion publicist Isoke Salaam told Insider that the days of sorting through racks of ripped jeans may soon be over.

"Ripped jeans popped back up about seven years ago and they have been hanging on. However, they're on their way out," said Salaam. "Though they work for concerts and maybe festivals, ripped jeans don't work for most restaurants or first impressions. Instead, polished and classic styles are here to stay."

To keep up with changing trends, Salaam suggests wearing a slim pair of black, cropped jeans instead of shredded denim.

You likely won't spot cold-shoulder tops in the 2020s.

Stylist and fashion expert Suzanne Wexler told Insider shoulder-highlighting tops gained a boost of popularity in early 2010, even though the trend began decades earlier.

Despite its recent upswing in commercial success, stylists and designers seem to be united in their dislike of this chilly look.

"Cold-shoulder tops are a bizarre mash-up of styles, giving a peekaboo sexy look that is anything but. Unlike off-the-shoulder tops and one-shoulder looks, which are still going strong today, I suspect cold-shoulder tops won't return to the fashion circuit," said Wexler.

Celebrity stylist and designer Crystal Cave also told Insider that she hopes the next decade sees the end of the cold-shoulder trend.

"Not every top needs shoulder cutouts," said Cave.

Chunky "dad" sneakers could be a passing fad.

After first emerging in the 1980s, oversized "dad" sneakers made a comeback in the latter half of the 2010s. And even though chunky kicks had a major moment in 2019, they might not be populating shelves for much longer.

"'Dad' sneakers are on the way out. Yes, they are an orthopedic dream, but they look horrendous and are far from eye-catching. I just loathe the trend," Conroy said.

Although "dad" sneakers may just be a passing trend, Conroy told Insider that stylish and comfortable shoes, such as flats and loafers, will take over.

The neon trend will potentially fade to black.

If you're looking to turn heads, there's no easier way to do it than with a splash of neon. However, the electrifying color trend is probably on its way out.

"Neon was seen on the runway in 2019. However, the 2020 collections are without. When I think of neon, I automatically think of reflective cycling vests. So not fashion," said Salaam.

So how will trendsetters make a statement in the new decade? Salaam said they think bright neon hues will be replaced with eye-catching black-on-black ensembles and more subdued pieces.

The mustard craze of the late 2010s is over.

There was a time when it seemed like mustard was the unlikely color hero of every fashion-conscious wardrobe. However, designers are now sending this yellowish hue packing.

"Mustard catapulted onto every 2018 runway and was stocked by every retailer. It's a more exciting alternative to neutral tones, but it leaves something to be desired," said Conroy.

Instead of the muted yellow of mustard, Conroy told Insider that they expect designers will swap out the condiment-inspired color for lighter and more saturated saffron shades.

The jeggings trend may not survive into the next decade.

These stretchy leggings masquerading as jeans surged in popularity during the mid-2010s, but many stylists are thankful the trend has seemingly run its course.

"The trend of pretending your exercise pants are actually real pants is over," said Wexler. "Denim has become stretchy enough that there's no need to go as far as making jeans the same density as leggings."

So instead of wearing faux jeans because you want the comfort level, Wexler said you might just want to wear leggings "now that athleisure has become a head-to-toe look."

Say goodbye to panels of lace on clothes.

If you hate the unpleasant surprise of trying on a seemingly cozy sweater only to discover the back is made is flimsy lace, you'll be happy to know that lace inserts and accents likely won't be trending in the 2020s.

"For a while, these femme details were on all women's dresses and tops. This trend resulted in too many visible bra straps and unsupported busts. Thank goodness consumers have moved on," wardrobe stylist Amanda Massi told Insider.

Fortunately, if you're looking to add a touch of classic femininity to your look, maxi skirts and floral prints are still going strong into the next decade.

Don't expect to see bike shorts outside of the gym in the 2020s.

Although it seems that 1990s trendsetters first embraced the cycling garment as streetwear, bike shorts gained tremendous popularity in 2019 after celebrities like the Kardashians sported them on a regular basis.

However, cycling shorts just don't have high-fashion staying power.

"This athleisure trend is so done for a variety of reasons. Bike shorts are unpolished and, more importantly, aren't functional for every body type. If you were curvy and have zero thigh gap, bike shorts ride up your thighs every minute," said Conroy.

Conroy predicts style influencers will be donning vinyl and leather pants in 2020 instead of squirming into a pair of tight shorts.

Pajama-like looks will probably be replaced with more comfortable, polished ensembles.

If you've been guilty of wearing your fanciest silk pajama set outside of your house with heels, you're not alone – the pajama dressing trend gained a lot of traction between 2017 and 2018.

However, Cave told Insider that pajama dressing won't have a place on the catwalks of the next decade.

"With the rise of athleisure, this trend picked up steam in the last two years and it started to become less shocking to wear pajamas outside of your house," said Cave. "The fact is, you're still wearing pajamas in public."

Instead of seeing people roll into work the same way they rolled out of bed, she predicts a rise in the popularity of jumpsuits or interchangeable separates made with comfortable knit fabrics.

Patterned leggings will soon be a fashion faux pas.

With the ongoing dominance of the athleisure trend, brightly patterned leggings became a big part of many people's wardrobes in the 2010s.

Unfortunately, those psychedelic leggings may not be very on-trend in the next decade.

"With the low quality of many of these leggings combined with the bold, bizarre, and sometimes tacky patterns they proliferated, I hope to see pattern leggings done with in the 2020s," said Cave.

Instead, Cave told Insider she envisions high-quality leggings with more timeless, fashionable patterns and textures becoming popular.

"I'm still a fan of comfort, but see the 2020s as the time we take the comfort we've demanded in the 2010s to the next level, making comfortable look more chic," she added.

10 beauty trends that should disappear by 2020

27 incredible places you couldn't visit a decade ago

Stylists and designers reveal the 11 trends we'll be seeing everywhere in 2020

from Design http://bit.ly/2qGbwYC

#micaramel

0 notes

viralhottopics · 8 years ago

Text

Not so haute: six writers on their biggest fashion mistakes

From tights on the beach to head-to-toe taffeta, writers reveal the outfits they regret

Kenya Hunt My version of day-to-night dressing was a night-time look worn all day

Despite working at a fashion magazine, Ive made a few sartorial mistakes. I comfort myself with the sentiment of an Instagram edict I saw: If youve never looked a little dumb, youre not having fun.

Id count the moment I met my husband as an off day, so it pains me no end that the clothes I wore have become a part of our marital lore. In his mind, the outfit is key to a story that must be retold, again and again: She wore a shiny shirt, tight jeans, big, gold hoop earrings, tall boots and a giant white furry jacket. And I said, I need to know this woman.

This visual loudness the metallics, the big proportions, the shaggy texture was my everyday look back in my late 20s, when I was living and working in New York. I dressed this way to please no one other than myself. I relished being able finally to buy and wear the labels I read about in magazines, but could never find in my suburban childhood home in Virginia.

My version of day-to-night dressing was basically a night-time look worn all day ready for whatever fun might happen later. Id think nothing of a morning commute in glittery Miu Miu heels or a gold Chlo sequin skirt. (To be fair, it was the era of high heels, flashy coats and skirts that were either very big and long, or very short.) No matter what the prevailing trend, Ive always had a soft spot for the razzle. For further proof, see this old image of me in Milan, in bright colour and print, layered on top of more colour and print.

Now, my wardrobe stands on a foundation of grey, navy and black, mostly because it suits my lifestyle and the London weather. I limit the flamboyance to my accessories (a bright shoe, big earring, bold handbag) or show it through shape, such as an enormous puffer jacket. Its just that now I choose pragmatic black rather than hot pink.

Theres a real joy that comes with loud dressing, because it requires a certain kind of go-to-hell spirit. Ive come to indulge this in a more restrained way, but I dont regret the mistakes. If I did, Id have divorced my husband a long time ago, for telling that story so very, very often.

Kenya Hunt is fashion features director of Elle.

Ruth Lewy: To think that this was my coolest look

Ruth Lewy, aged 20, with Dizzee Rascal.

It was May 2006 and I was coming to the end of my first year of university. I had just received my first proper student journalism commission: an interview with Dizzee Rascal. I borrowed a Dictaphone and hastily scrawled down three pages of uninventive questions (What is the best thing youve ever got for free?).

Now the important bit: my look. I loved Dizzee; I knew his two albums back to front and had mastered all the words to Fix Up, Look Sharp. What was I going to wear?

To think, looking back, that this was my very best outfit. My coolest look. Not one floral print top but two, a T-shirt layered over a shirt. Not one necklace, but two. (Made with beads collected while InterRailing around Europe. I know.) My curly hair was slicked back with Brylcreem. Off I went, looking like Laura Ashleys long-lost daughter.

He was courteous, holding eye contact and answering all my inane questions with grace. (The best thing he ever got for free? A lifetimes supply of trainers.) I stood up and shook his hand, and he invited me to his afterparty. The next student journalist sat down and went straight in with a question about homophobic lyrics and issues of representation in pop music, and I thought, Ohhhh, thats what journalism is.

The evening took a strange turn. My friends and I crowded into a bar on the high street, where Dizzee had a roped-off section at the back. It didnt take him long to zone in on my gorgeous friend L, persuading her to leave with him. We were agog.

Twenty minutes later, she was back, laughing her head off at the way he had clumsily propositioned her. She chose us over him.

What do I see when I look at this picture? I feel embarrassed at my choices. But Im also glad I spent my 20s dressing like a weirdo: it demonstrates a self-confidence that I dont think I appreciated at the time. These days, you could still file most of my clothes under eclectic, but Im much more careful, uninventive even. Now I tend to wear only one necklace at a time.

My interview never appeared in the end; the other journalist broke the embargo (she went on to write for the Daily Mail: go figure). I was left with only this blurry picture, a reminder of my youthful enthusiasm for floral prints, and an uncanny impression of Dizzee Rascals best chat-up line.

Ruth Lewy is assistant editor of Guardian Weekend.

Nosheen Iqbal: Everyone else on the beach was 89% naked

Nosheen Iqbal in Tuscany, aged 21.

I was a skittish 21-year-old in the mid noughties and I had, against my will, ended up on a Tuscan beach. It was the height of summer, but I was wearing thick black tights, thicker black skirt, black scarf and witchy pumps . Everyone else was dressed in 89% naked and the entire beach was rammed. Id been sent on a work trip with four other journalists who were, as far as I was concerned, super-old (fortysomething) and, I hoped, probably willing to buy my stubborn refusal to strip as some cool youth thing. (They didnt.) I made an attempt to style it out by looking casually moody, staring out to sea behind sunglasses, pretending not to notice my shoes sinking in the sand, legs looking like inky black stumps.

Why dont you take off your tights?

No.

What about if

No.

A couple of key things: the seaside was not on my itinerary and I hadnt packed for it. I didnt (and dont) own swimwear or a bikini, and I didnt (and dont) know how to swim.

Being Muslim is barely an excuse to look as daft as I did; there are chic ways to be modest by the sea childhood memories of Karachis Clifton beach were proof, where lawn cotton tunic and trousers were everyones friend. But being Muslim, plus an average level of body dysmorphia, was my bikini body ready get-out card. I knew there had to be more comfortable ways to be in public than permanently sucking my stomach in wearing what is, essentially, waterproof underwear. But 100-denier hosiery was definitely not the answer.

The general advice to give a shy 21-year-old should always be, Its not as bad as you think, to allay their disproportionate embarrassment. Except, in this case, the cringe levels are fully warranted; I havent been to a hot, sunny beach since.

Nosheen Iqbal is a commissioning editor for G2.

Morwenna Ferrier: I cant remember why I decided to cut off my hair

Morwenna Ferrier in Aldeburgh in her early 20s.

Other outfits have been more challenging. The mother-of-pearl bustier I wore to my graduation, say. Or, recently, the T-shirt printed with Valerie Solanass Scum manifesto I wore to meet a friends baby. But the outfit I am wearing here, worn on a walk along Aldeburgh beach in Suffolk, is the one I most regret.

It started a few months earlier when, in my early 20s, I decided to cut off my hair. I cant remember why. I imagine I fancied a change and, in fairness, I liked it. But then, I looked like a boy in a dress. I reacted by phasing out dresses and instead wearing drainpipes, striped T-shirts and headscarves. None of this was good. In the photo, Im wearing tight cropped trousers under the dress.

I had spent my late teens in dresses, grungy or flowery, with self-cut hems. It was a more innocent time, when I didnt really care what I wore. But the haircut triggered an anxiety.

What is it I regret? Back then it was the haircut; now, its that I ever worried about looking like a boy. I clearly hadnt been paying attention in those Judith Butler seminars; maybe I was still too attached to the binary. As my hair grew out, I started to care for the first time about how I looked. At 24, late in life, I became self-conscious.

Morwenna Ferrier is the Guardians online fashion editor.

Pam Lucas: I looked like a turkey at Christmas

Pam Lucas at a family party, aged 39.

As a single parent in the 80s, I was dirt poor. I didnt have the opportunity to make fashion faux pas because I didnt have any money. We shopped in jumble sales, and we had fun.

My family was invited to a party to celebrate my aunt and uncles golden wedding anniversary. I didnt know them that well, but my mum wanted me to impress them by looking modern. In the 80s, that meant puffy sleeves and big shoulders. My mother came with me to buy the outfit from BHS , so I had to comply. I was 39 at the time.

It was a beautiful colour between purple and lilac but I didnt like the synthetic fabric. It was watermarked all over and had a flared, taffeta skirt and a little jacket with a peplum. I looked like a turkey at Christmas, but it was such a fab party, I soon forgot how uncomfortable I felt.

In a way the outfit is a testament to my relationship with my mother. I was a grownup, with a child of my own, but she was still trying to keep hold of the mum bit of herself.

Pam Lucas is a model and appears regularly in All Ages.

Tshepo Mokoena: I settled on a vague hippy child look

Tshepo Mokoena at 19.

It would be nice if we could start over. To spare me, and others my age, a fair bit of niggling shame, by wiping all early photos from our Facebook accounts. Anyone who set up a profile between 2004 and 2009 now lugs around the digital baggage of horrible pictures of misspent youth and terrible outfits.

Case in point: this delight of a photo. I was 19, killing time between the second and third years of uni in Brighton. In a few weeks, my housemate and I would set off on an impulsive charity volunteering trip to Kerala because and I still cringe wed watched Wes Andersons The Darjeeling Limited.

Until my early 20s, my aesthetic consisted of not knowing when to edit. At 18, I would layer at least three beaded necklaces, two chunky bracelets, about 17 bangles and seven rings, for no good reason.

I attended secondary school in Harare, Zimbabwe, largely insulated from fashion, more concerned with my whizzing hormones than the latest velour tracksuit. I settled on a vague hippy child look at 15 and filled my wardrobe with earthy prints, flared denim and jewellery picked up in local markets. By 19, I looked like a substitute art teacher.

If youre old enough to have only private, analogue photography from your youth, or young enough to have crafted a near-fictional version of yourself online, youre spared the permanent reminder of your mistakes: 1,287 grim images owned by Mark Zuckerberg. I implore other twentysomethings to join me in calling for a digital purge. Its time.

Tshepo Mokoena is the editor of Noisey.

Read more: http://bit.ly/2oSS1JN

from Not so haute: six writers on their biggest fashion mistakes

#Not so haute: six writers on their biggest fashion mistakes

0 notes

vdbstore-blog · 8 years ago

Text

New Post has been published on Vintage Designer Handbags Online | Vintage Preowned Chanel Luxury Designer Brands Bags & Accessories

New Post has been published on http://vintagedesignerhandbagsonline.com/not-so-haute-six-writers-on-their-biggest-fashion-mistakes/

Not so haute: six writers on their biggest fashion mistakes

Kenya Hunt ‘My version of day-to-night dressing was a night-time look worn all day’

Despite working at a fashion magazine, I’ve made a few sartorial mistakes. I comfort myself with the sentiment of an Instagram edict I saw: “If you’ve never looked a little dumb, you’re not having fun.”

I’d count the moment I met my husband as an off day, so it pains me no end that the clothes I wore have become a part of our marital lore. In his mind, the outfit is key to a story that must be retold, again and again: “She wore a shiny shirt, tight jeans, big, gold hoop earrings, tall boots and a giant white furry jacket. And I said, ‘I need to know this woman.’”

This visual loudness – the metallics, the big proportions, the shaggy texture – was my everyday look back in my late 20s, when I was living and working in New York. I dressed this way to please no one other than myself. I relished being able finally to buy and wear the labels I read about in magazines, but could never find in my suburban childhood home in Virginia.

My version of day-to-night dressing was basically a night-time look worn all day – ready for whatever fun might happen later. I’d think nothing of a morning commute in glittery Miu Miu heels or a gold Chloé sequin skirt. (To be fair, it was the era of high heels, flashy coats and skirts that were either very big and long, or very short.) No matter what the prevailing trend, I’ve always had a soft spot for the razzle. For further proof, see this old image of me in Milan, in bright colour and print, layered on top of more colour and print.

Now, my wardrobe stands on a foundation of grey, navy and black, mostly because it suits my lifestyle and the London weather. I limit the flamboyance to my accessories (a bright shoe, big earring, bold handbag) or show it through shape, such as an enormous puffer jacket. It’s just that now I choose pragmatic black rather than hot pink.

There’s a real joy that comes with loud dressing, because it requires a certain kind of go-to-hell spirit. I’ve come to indulge this in a more restrained way, but I don’t regret the mistakes. If I did, I’d have divorced my husband a long time ago, for telling that story so very, very often.

Ruth Lewy: ‘To think that this was my coolest look’

Ruth Lewy, aged 20, with Dizzee Rascal.

Now the important bit: my look. I loved Dizzee; I knew his two albums back to front and had mastered all the words to Fix Up, Look Sharp. What was I going to wear?

He was courteous, holding eye contact and answering all my inane questions with grace. (The best thing he ever got for free? A lifetime’s supply of trainers.) I stood up and shook his hand, and he invited me to his afterparty. The next student journalist sat down and went straight in with a question about homophobic lyrics and issues of representation in pop music, and I thought, “Ohhhh, that’s what journalism is.”

The evening took a strange turn. My friends and I crowded into a bar on the high street, where Dizzee had a roped-off section at the back. It didn’t take him long to zone in on my gorgeous friend L, persuading her to leave with him. We were agog.

Twenty minutes later, she was back, laughing her head off at the way he had clumsily propositioned her. She chose us over him.

What do I see when I look at this picture? I feel embarrassed at my choices. But I’m also glad I spent my 20s dressing like a weirdo: it demonstrates a self-confidence that I don’t think I appreciated at the time. These days, you could still file most of my clothes under “eclectic”, but I’m much more careful, uninventive even. Now I tend to wear only one necklace at a time.

Ruth Lewy is assistant editor of Guardian Weekend.

Nosheen Iqbal: ‘Everyone else on the beach was 89% naked’

Nosheen Iqbal in Tuscany, aged 21.

I was a skittish 21-year-old in the mid noughties and I had, against my will, ended up on a Tuscan beach. It was the height of summer, but I was wearing thick black tights, thicker black skirt, black scarf and witchy pumps . Everyone else was dressed in 89% naked and the entire beach was rammed. I’d been sent on a work trip with four other journalists who were, as far as I was concerned, super-old (fortysomething) and, I hoped, probably willing to buy my stubborn refusal to strip as some cool youth thing. (They didn’t.) I made an attempt to style it out by looking casually moody, staring out to sea behind sunglasses, pretending not to notice my shoes sinking in the sand, legs looking like inky black stumps.

Why don’t you take off your tights?

No.

What about if…

No.

A couple of key things: the seaside was not on my itinerary and I hadn’t packed for it. I didn’t (and don’t) own swimwear or a bikini, and I didn’t (and don’t) know how to swim.

Being Muslim is barely an excuse to look as daft as I did; there are chic ways to be modest by the sea – childhood memories of Karachi’s Clifton beach were proof, where lawn cotton tunic and trousers were everyone’s friend. But being Muslim, plus an average level of body dysmorphia, was my “bikini body ready” get-out card. I knew there had to be more comfortable ways to be in public than permanently sucking my stomach in wearing what is, essentially, waterproof underwear. But 100-denier hosiery was definitely not the answer.

The general advice to give a shy 21-year-old should always be, “It’s not as bad as you think”, to allay their disproportionate embarrassment. Except, in this case, the cringe levels are fully warranted; I haven’t been to a hot, sunny beach since.

Nosheen Iqbal is a commissioning editor for G2.

Morwenna Ferrier: ‘I can’t remember why I decided to cut off my hair’

Morwenna Ferrier in Aldeburgh in her early 20s.

Other outfits have been more challenging. The mother-of-pearl bustier I wore to my graduation, say. Or, recently, the T-shirt printed with Valerie Solanas’s Scum manifesto I wore to meet a friend’s baby. But the outfit I am wearing here, worn on a walk along Aldeburgh beach in Suffolk, is the one I most regret.

It started a few months earlier when, in my early 20s, I decided to cut off my hair. I can’t remember why. I imagine I fancied a change and, in fairness, I liked it. But then, I looked like a boy in a dress. I reacted by phasing out dresses and instead wearing drainpipes, striped T-shirts and headscarves. None of this was good. In the photo, I’m wearing tight cropped trousers under the dress.

I had spent my late teens in dresses, grungy or flowery, with self-cut hems. It was a more innocent time, when I didn’t really care what I wore. But the haircut triggered an anxiety.

What is it I regret? Back then it was the haircut; now, it’s that I ever worried about looking like a boy. I clearly hadn’t been paying attention in those Judith Butler seminars; maybe I was still too attached to the binary. As my hair grew out, I started to care for the first time about how I looked. At 24, late in life, I became self-conscious.

Pam Lucas: ‘I looked like a turkey at Christmas’

Pam Lucas at a family party, aged 39.

As a single parent in the 80s, I was dirt poor. I didn’t have the opportunity to make fashion faux pas because I didn’t have any money. We shopped in jumble sales, and we had fun.

My family was invited to a party to celebrate my aunt and uncle’s golden wedding anniversary. I didn’t know them that well, but my mum wanted me to impress them by looking “modern”. In the 80s, that meant puffy sleeves and big shoulders. My mother came with me to buy the outfit from BHS , so I had to comply. I was 39 at the time.

It was a beautiful colour – between purple and lilac – but I didn’t like the synthetic fabric. It was watermarked all over and had a flared, taffeta skirt and a little jacket with a peplum. I looked like a turkey at Christmas, but it was such a fab party, I soon forgot how uncomfortable I felt.

In a way the outfit is a testament to my relationship with my mother. I was a grownup, with a child of my own, but she was still trying to keep hold of the mum bit of herself.

Tshepo Mokoena: ‘I settled on a vague hippy child look’

Tshepo Mokoena at 19.

Case in point: this delight of a photo. I was 19, killing time between the second and third years of uni in Brighton. In a few weeks, my housemate and I would set off on an impulsive charity volunteering trip to Kerala because – and I still cringe – we’d watched Wes Anderson’s The Darjeeling Limited.

Until my early 20s, my aesthetic consisted of not knowing when to edit. At 18, I would “layer” at least three beaded necklaces, two chunky bracelets, about 17 bangles and seven rings, for no good reason.

I attended secondary school in Harare, Zimbabwe, largely insulated from fashion, more concerned with my whizzing hormones than the latest velour tracksuit. I settled on a vague “hippy child” look at 15 and filled my wardrobe with earthy prints, flared denim and jewellery picked up in local markets. By 19, I looked like a substitute art teacher.

If you’re old enough to have only private, analogue photography from your youth, or young enough to have crafted a near-fictional version of yourself online, you’re spared the permanent reminder of your mistakes: 1,287 grim images owned by Mark Zuckerberg. I implore other twentysomethings to join me in calling for a digital purge. It’s time.

Source link

#Fashion

0 notes