I got nuthin’. This is another crazy week at work, in addition to trying to get my tax retuns filed pronto for Diva’s financial aid/college purposes. So let’s continue the conversation about a work uniform from last week.
I had so much fun reading your comments; I went back last weekend and read and commented some more. Then I dragged myself over to Lord & Taylor on Sunday, they were having a big sale, and I tried on some suits. Because nobody enjoys a little crow-eating more than me, and a couple of you said, hey, crap suits on women look like crap suits. It’s not like I’ve spent years looking for the perfect suit, after all.
Suits are a funny thing. And I figured out exactly what works for me and my body type. I have: narrow shoulders, a generous B/C cup (nice, but problematic), and no waist. I never had a waist, and after four kids, including twins, I have even less of a waist now. So let the crow-eating commence. The type of jacket that does not work for me is most of them – a short, abbreviated version of a men’s suit, or one with extra fabric/poufs in the shoulders (calling Alexis Carrington Dexter Colby!)
You know what looks great? Those long suit jackets. Hard to describe. The ones that nip slightly in the waist and flow down long and lean, stopping below my behind rather than above it. As if I were wearing a coat-dress, only the dress part is lopped off strategically. With that shape, I get a fitted, incredibly flattering silhouette.
I bought two in that style – one a regular summer suit, and one … I had to have it, even though it’s heavy enough for winter. It was too gorgeous to pass up, $320 marked down to $150. It has a sleeveless shell included, which doesn’t fit (my rack is too big) but the rest of it – man, I felt like a million bucks.
The store was a zoo with the sale, but I talked about the Great Summer Pantyhose Kerfuffle (yes or no?) with the nice SA. She pointed out that their/my sheath dresses don’t show a ton of leg, just below the knee. She helped me into one, took a gander at my gams, and said that with the right shoe I could live without hose. I admit it looks more modern. I’d borrowed a pair of pointy-toed, kitten-heeled, bow-tipped navy patent slingbacks from the shoe dept. to try on with the clothes. They were too expensive but are supposed to be discounted next weekend. They were perfect – I wouldn’t have to sweat the pedicure, they made my legs look great, and the heel’s low enough I could wear them all day. If they have my size next weekend, I’ll buy them to go with the black and grey sheath dresses I have. They were, as my father would say, cute as a button.
Finally, an amusing SA dust-up re: self-tanner. There is no self-tanner I can put on my legs that doesn’t make me feel/look like an Oompa-Loompa. Also, frankly, the main reason my skin looks so great (for my age) is: no sun. I literally do not tan. Not one iota. I gave up that dream in high school. So, having come of age in the era of the blonde, tan icons like Farrah Fawcett, I’m stubbornly unwilling to “fake” a tan on any part of my body. I’m planning on carrying a sun-umbrella this summer, I don’t care how affected it looks, and I already wear a sun-shirt in the car. Take that, Snooki.
image: Coolibar sun parasol, UPF 50+. I could rock that.