Sue this suit!

Having worked in and around Portland for almost 5 years, in and around a profession where suits are often mandatory, the following fashion mishap is unnervingly common in 2009, the year of the ox.  I don't know if these suits were housed in closets since the early nineties or are scarily purchased new, but the designer producing these garments needs a stern talking to.

Law: Tapered pantsuits suit no one

The essence of the tapered pantsuit is captured in the ratio of extra fabric in the thigh to the lack thereof around the ankle.  Though they give a wearer mobility and comfort, their proportions make the smallest hips appear child-bearing ready. 

These abominations of female fashion charge at me every day of the week.  I duck left; I dodge right and I still can't avoid them.  The hallways at my internship are narrow (just like the bottom of the pants) and I can hardly escape before they swoosh past me, thigh area flapping in the wind while the hem stays precariously still, attaching like velcro to the grains of a suede ankle boot.  They are usually accompanied by an overly long blazer that women believe hides their hips, but they are sadly mistaken.  

Maybe the woman's laugh that I mistake for a cry three cubicles down really is crying--weeping at the forgone fashion opportunities a bootcut, wideleg, or even straight leg pant could bring.  

Defense lawyers seem to be the biggest perpetrators.  Perhaps if they spent less time defending their looks and more time defending their clients I wouldn't be so successful at keeping defendants in jail till their court date.

Women of Portland's workplaces; I love that the suit from 1995 still fits, but honor that body by stepping into pants that don't conjure up visions of "Hammer Time."

Getting Knee-High

I must preface this blog with the circumstances of this sighting: Saturday night at the Beaverton Michael's craft store is not the usual watering hole of Portland's fashion elite, but there is a minimum standard of decency I come to expect when shopping for pipe cleaners and paper mache figurines. This man was wandering through the art framing section, probably finding the supplies to immortalize a photograph of himself in this, his sexiest of outfits:



Was there a craft emergency that prevented this man from changing his clothes post-sports participation? Aside from the socks, grown men need to eliminate after-activity odor before parading around in public, as achieved by a wardrobe substitution.


Law: You would have to be high to wear knee-high socks

Knowing Portland, that state of mind is not beyond the realm of possibilities for most knee-high sock wearing folk. But for the people who consciously grab that foot long sock out of their drawer, yank it up to the knee or beyond, exposing the thigh for us all to see (especially man thigh--yuck!), this wake up call is for you. Beyond the age of 10, once you leave the soccer field, football field or any field and enter any establishment other than your private home, carry a change of shoes. You don't wear your cleats off of the field, why leave the socks?

The jury is still out regarding ankle socks for women as a fashion choice. There is a forceful return of the exposed-sock-with-skirt-look on the runway and though I would never be caught dead in argyle socks with Mary Janes, I appreciate how others can rock the look. If I had to make an educated guess on the jury's decision, it would be not guilty with conditions. School girl-esque fashion went out in 1999 and I will kick it with my bitch boot if necessary to block its return.

A little different

Given recent events, I decided to write a different kind of story, but I swear the funny, critical sarcastic blogs you have come to depend on will return.

Navy Jacket with Gold Buttons

 

I had never seen my dad cry so hard in my life.  We just finished viewing a video presentation commemorating the life of his three-weeks deceased youngest brother, Paul.  The photos commenced with a single shot of my uncle, so innocent and open-minded, seated in familiar place; the piano bench.  As the picture panned from micro to macro, my father's face dove between his legs, halted from contact with the floor by his hands. Only tears reached the carpet before my mother was able to stop them with a tissue.  From the cuff of his jacket, four gold buttons glistened.  

Instead of wearing funeral appropriate black, my father chose to wear a navy blazer and charcoal pants.  Though both colors are dark, neither quite communicates the mourning message similar to black.  I don't know whether the choice was deliberate, convenient or non-existent, but those colors reflected a denial of the event of which we all gathered. Postponing the reality of death with a choice of fabric.

My uncle never married nor fathered children, and as such my two sisters, cousin and I had the quintessential uncle experience. An uncle without children of his own is sheltered from the painful growth and frustration of parenting, and therefore remains pure to be a joyous, rough-housing, pool shark playing, lacking any sort of discipline or direction uncle.  Uncle Paul never let father-like tendencies taint his interactions with his nieces; the only rule was laughter.  

Tears on the sleeve of the jacket were barely dry when my father donned the same garment for a visit to my uncle's home the next day.  A jacket that once wrapped his body while utter anguish poured from the inside now sheltered a moment of complacency inside my uncle's home. We shuffled through his belongings, sharing stories and making discoveries.  Scanning the home I noticed the walls lacked decoration, especially pictures of family.  Inside the second bedroom/storage room, one bulletin board revealed more about my uncle than an entire house full of possessions.  Pinned carefully to this board were four photographs; one for each of his nieces.  Behind the facade of uncle behavior laid fatherly love.  We were his girls; his four shining stars.

After a brief conversation with a neighbor outside the home, my father headed for the car packed with luggage and us. As he waived goodbye to the neighbor, just before we boarded a plane directed home, I caught a glimpse of four gold buttons on the cuff of his navy jacket.