The three piece Eileen Fisher outfit I ordered from Neiman Marcus has arrived, been tried on, and worn to three different events: a board meeting, a cocktail party, and a memorial service. If I were tracking cost-per-wear, I'd be pleased.
However, I'll admit that I had to use costume tape to hold the dress in place. The dress fits beautifully, but that Balcony of mine is so crowded that my underpinnings are always threatening to embarrass me. Also, the neckline isn't that low, but somehow, I seem to come equipped with too much cleavage.
At times like this, my BFF is Hollywood Fashion Tape.
This stuff is the velvet rope that controls the crowds on your Balcony.
I wore these shoes with it
from Taryn Rose's new line. You know, the foot doctor who became a shoe designer? Apparently she sold the rights to her name and then turned around and started Haute Fouture. The shoes are rather old lady ... but in a way I like.
These are wonderfully comfortable when you put them on. The leather is soft, the wedge is comfortable, and the elastic straps accommodate my high instep. However, a cocktail party is a cocktail party, and honestly, I think a thoughtful hostess should greet everyone with a nice pair of fluffy slippers. Because after a couple of hours of standing, even these shoes hurt.
Oh, I also carried my vintage Chanel bag with the giant gold interlocking CCs.
Where's the poem, you ask. Well. You know the old rhyme about what a bride should wear on her wedding day? Here's my version:
Something old (last summer's semi-orthopedic Taryn Rose-designed old lady shoes)
Something new (the dress, belt, and sweater)
Something vintage (my bag)
Something glue (Hollywood Fashion Tape)
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Showing posts with label Taryn Rose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Taryn Rose. Show all posts
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Packing, packing, packing.
People, I know. I start blogging again with a bang, then ... radio silence.
The thing is, between the house being painted, the basement being flooded, and my entire family heading to England on Thursday, it's been busybusybusy around here.
See, we're not just going to England to visit the Tower of London to drool over the Royal Jewels. Although that's definitely in the itinerary.
We're also going to be spending the week in Canterbury, being a visiting choir at the cathedral. And the preparations are dizzying.
First of all, we had to watch Becket.
Because it would be remiss to visit Canterbury and not understand why the characters in the Tales were journeying to the cathedral in the first place.
Also, I'm very busy trying to plump up my family's flat American vowels so the tourists who hear us sing won't realize we're from Chicago.
Not that we won't sound good, but if I were a tourist at Canterbury Cathedral, I'd be a bit disappointed that the extremely professional-sounding choir (complete with angelic, soaring trebles) was actually American. I feel it only polite to disguise my Colonial origins. At least, while I'm singing.
The other thing keeping me busy is making sure we're all stocked with sufficient choir clothes. It is not, unfortunately, enough that we'll be wearing floor-length choir robes topped with knee-length surplices. We also have a dress code to adhere to as cathedral musicians: black skirts or pants topped with white blouses or shirts. Closed-toe black shoes. Neutral, white, or black hose. Or--thankfully--no hose.
Having done this before, I've managed to accumulate a significant stock of black pants (God bless Eileen Fisher)
sensible black closed-toe shoes,
and a nice collection of blouses.
Lafayette 148 is a favorite for these.
The gem of my blouse collection is one by Samuel Dong that I swear is made of the earth's supply of petroleum by-products. If I spill spaghetti sauce on it, I could probably clean it off with Windex. Which makes it perfect for travel.
Getting the children properly kitted out has been A Mad Scramble, let me tell you. Young Master Buxom is 16, and in the two years since we last went to England (and tried to trick American tourists into believing we were an English choir) he's gone from wearing a boy's size 20 shirt to a 15/33. Which makes for a lot of shopping.
And of course, there's the girl. Who is wont to declare that everything she once liked is now Woefully Out Of Style.
So while I get ready, do me a favor and come up with suggestions of fun, frivolous things to shop for in London. I plan to visit Boots and Top Shop. What about Mango? And are there any fabulous products for aging English complexions that I need to buy and bring back to the States? Any products that are imported to the U.K. but don't make it to the States?
The thing is, between the house being painted, the basement being flooded, and my entire family heading to England on Thursday, it's been busybusybusy around here.
See, we're not just going to England to visit the Tower of London to drool over the Royal Jewels. Although that's definitely in the itinerary.
![]() |
| Will you get a load of this? And this is the stuff that isn't locked up for tourists to gawk at. |
We're also going to be spending the week in Canterbury, being a visiting choir at the cathedral. And the preparations are dizzying.
First of all, we had to watch Becket.
| Richard Burton is OK, but Peter O'Toole leaves him sitting in the road. |
Because it would be remiss to visit Canterbury and not understand why the characters in the Tales were journeying to the cathedral in the first place.
Also, I'm very busy trying to plump up my family's flat American vowels so the tourists who hear us sing won't realize we're from Chicago.
Not that we won't sound good, but if I were a tourist at Canterbury Cathedral, I'd be a bit disappointed that the extremely professional-sounding choir (complete with angelic, soaring trebles) was actually American. I feel it only polite to disguise my Colonial origins. At least, while I'm singing.
The other thing keeping me busy is making sure we're all stocked with sufficient choir clothes. It is not, unfortunately, enough that we'll be wearing floor-length choir robes topped with knee-length surplices. We also have a dress code to adhere to as cathedral musicians: black skirts or pants topped with white blouses or shirts. Closed-toe black shoes. Neutral, white, or black hose. Or--thankfully--no hose.
Having done this before, I've managed to accumulate a significant stock of black pants (God bless Eileen Fisher)
sensible black closed-toe shoes,
![]() |
| Chanel Cambon ballerina flats--way too logo-y, but INCREDIBLY comfortable |
| ||
| Haute Footure wedges by the very clever Taryn Rose |
and a nice collection of blouses.
Lafayette 148 is a favorite for these.
![]() |
| Dear Fashion Gods: Enough with the ruffles. Those of us with a lot on our balconies would appreciate it. Thanks! Love, Poppy |
The gem of my blouse collection is one by Samuel Dong that I swear is made of the earth's supply of petroleum by-products. If I spill spaghetti sauce on it, I could probably clean it off with Windex. Which makes it perfect for travel.
![]() |
| Let us not forget a stylish pair of wellies, should the weather prove inclement. |
And of course, there's the girl. Who is wont to declare that everything she once liked is now Woefully Out Of Style.
So while I get ready, do me a favor and come up with suggestions of fun, frivolous things to shop for in London. I plan to visit Boots and Top Shop. What about Mango? And are there any fabulous products for aging English complexions that I need to buy and bring back to the States? Any products that are imported to the U.K. but don't make it to the States?
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