Mens-day: Suits

          People blame television for a lot of things. Since the set came out, mothers have been warning their children not to sit too close to the screen, otherwise they'll go blind within the year. Many believe television is the main factor in the quickly growing rate of obesity in our nation. Others credit television as the cause of unwarranted violence and unprotected sex in today's world. The mudslinging doesn't stop there, either. The restaurant that I work for refuses to hang televisions in the bar area, claiming the company is "dedicated to traditional family values." Television splits families apart and destroys the art of meaningful conversation! In short, television is the devil. The More You Know!
          In all seriousness, while being glued to the tube is never a good thing, I feel that a little television every once and awhile won't rip a person's life to shreds. Certain broadcasts aided me in staying informed (and possibly a little bit over-informed) during the presidential election, helping me narrow down for whom I'd be casting my vote. During my freshman year of college, I bonded with the girls on my dormitory floor over America's Next Top Model and Gossip Girl, establishing lasting friendships over commercial breaks and post-show speculations (Chair forever, ladies.) Contrary to popular belief, I have had meaningful conversations that spurred off of ones about television shows, including a rhetorical analysis of Girls, a debate on whether or not past decades were better than present day brought on by Mad Men, and the composition of a pro/con list concerning if I really want to live in Baltimore courtesy of The Wire. I've learned things from crime shows like Bones and Law and Order, although maybe not enough to pass the bar exam. And who doesn't love that endless string of award shows at the beginning of every year? While television should not be our end-all-be-all, it has given us some good things. For example, it's brought men's business suits back into every living room in the country.
          Is it just me, or are the men on television impeccably dressed? I feel as if this wonderful transition in the costuming of male characters began with the ad men of Sterling-Cooper-Draper-Pryce (née Sterling-Cooper, or the agency in Mad Men, for those of you who have been living under a rock). Don Draper, Roger Sterling, and incredibly creepy Peter Campbell are men that know their way around a deal. They could sell cookies to a Girl Scout and not make her think twice about what she was doing. They know their game and can play it better than anyone else, because they know if they don't win their families (and ladies on the side) will suffer at the lack of bacon being brought home. It's entirely sexist, and each of them have racked up significant frequent flier miles on power trips but all of that aside one can clearly connect what they're wearing to their overall success in life. Don knows he looks sharp because he chose to wear a suit that's tailored to his proportions, that fits all over. He doesn't have to worry about the coat being too bulky or the legs being too short, which gives his brain room to worry about more important things like a million dollar account or what he's going to do about his daughter's obnoxious lisp.
          Other notable television characters have also helped popularize the three-piece. Charles Bass went from high school rapscallion to bow-tied business man in between seasons. Barney Stintson has always worn a suit on How I Met Your Mother and tries to get others to "suit up" whenever possible. There is even a show simply titled Suits. It's about clever, conniving lawyers who do business in building with lots of shiny glass and/or rich wood surfaces. Unfortunately, these characters have another thing in common beyond their wardrobe. They are all terrible misogynists, which is kind of a deal breaker what with my being a woman and all. It's this crippling character flaw that may be giving suits a bad reputation: wear a suit, you're an asshole. I find this to be an extremely sad assumption because I've met a lot of really nice guys who just happened to be wearing suits. If we continue to view a suit as the sign of a sexist sir, we lose everything else a suit can symbolize. We lose its power, its strength, and its grace.
          A lot of men that I've talked to hate wearing suits. Big surprise there. They find it to be too confining and uncomfortable. Others say that it makes a guy look like everyone else, that it's against individuality and freedom of expression.  They say it's a symbol of oppression, a symbol of The Man who is always trying to bring the party down. And I can understand. Really. I'm not saying that you should lounge around and watch the big game on Sunday in a nice pinstripe. I'm not saying that you should go to the chili cook-off dressed to the nines. I'm not even saying that you need to wear a suit to every bar or on every date to impress the ladies. My mission here is to get men to look at suits differently, to create a better relationship with those blue, black, and otherwise colored ensembles pushed to the back of your closet. Then once the two of you are bosom buddies, maybe you'll take it out on the town more often and introduce it to your other friends. I'm positive everyone will get along famously.
          Now, let's take the whole shebang apart piece by piece, shall we? First, have you ever thought about how you button your shirt? (Probably not, I know but I wonder about these things all of the time so I did some nerd girl research.) The buttons on a man's dress shirt has origins in the plate armor worn in the 1300s. Before it was invented, a knight would hold his shield on the left side of his body, the side that was most commonly attacked. When shields were replaced with metal suits, fighting styles hadn't changed so knights were still being struck on the left. To guard against swords getting caught in a joint, armor was designed to be  fastened left over right so that the pesky joint was on the right side, and fighters could continue raging war without worry.
          A men's tie is not the most comfortable thing to wear in the world; I know this by experience. I have to wear one every day for work, so I am familiar with the constant feeling that you're wearing a noose in public. However, they also have a pretty kick ass past. During the Thirty Years' War, Europe was experiencing especially cold winters due to a low amount of solar activity (this period is sometimes referred to as the Little Ice Age). The extreme drop in temperature forced the soldiers fighting to make significant changes in their wardrobe in order to keep warm and stay alive. The Croatian soldiers wrapped long pieces of fabric loosely around their necks, and the French were smitten with the look at first sight. After the war, the French adopted the style of the Croatians and called the piece a cravate, which probably came from the word croate. In America, we know this to be a necktie.
          The vest has an interesting past, too. It is known to be one of the few pieces brought into the fashion universe by England rather than the powerhouse that is France. In fact, the fashion rivalry between the two countries is what sparked the vest's creation. In the 1600s, King Charles VI was tired of the French and their flamboyant clothing. He decided to fashion a somber and functional piece of clothing that would also serve as a giant middle finger to the fops across the pond. The original vest looked somewhat like a monks robe, almost floor length in simple heavy fabric. While the composition of the it has changed drastically in today's version, the origin still proves that the most rebellious men wore vests.
          The idea of the suit in its entirety has a story similar to the vests. Beau Brummell, the father of modern suiting believed that a man was not meant to wear the fussy getups that France was producing, that a man needed something simple, easy, and strong to wear in the world. Brummell crafted the first suit to make a statement in society, as if to say, "I am a man, and this is what a man wears." He was done with the powdered wigs and tights of an older age; he wanted to dress men into a streamlined, more modern look. He wanted his menswear to mirror the country he loved: simple, dignified, and solid.  Although it had a small following in the beginning, Brummell's confidence in his product is what really brought the suit into popular circulation. To this day, England is home to the best tailors in the world, making the country's everlasting imprint in the fashion universe.
          So you see, the suit you only wear when forced actually comes from good breeding. Knights, soldiers, rebels... who wouldn't want to be those guys? The modern suit has held onto the most masculine elements throughout its evolution. When wearing one, it should make you feel more like The Man than a slave to Him. If you're looking into buying a suit, you should spend an afternoon on that task alone. Much like jeans, it takes awhile to find the right fit and style to suit you (all of the puns intended). Take along a fashionable friend to help give you an outsider's opinion. Also, don't be afraid to ask a sales person for help. They were hired because they know the ins and outs of menswear, so they're indispensable especially if this is your first time. Try on many different colors and styles. Have fun with tie/shirt combos, mixing patterns and hues. If you're adventurous, maybe even dip your toes in the realm of pocket squares! You can show a lot of personality in formal attire.
          However, if suits just aren't your jam right now, I understand. I'm not trying to force every man to spend every waking minute of his life in Brooks Brothers but maybe you can start incorporating elements into your daily wardrobe. Pop on a sport coat over your tee for drinks with the boys, or sport a skinny tie, button-down and jeans when you're romancing your lady. And an unbuttoned vest over a v-neck, henley, or really any shirt is very Han Solo. And let's be honest, who doesn't want to be Han Solo for the day?

What to Wear: When You're Under the Weather

         I'm convinced I have one leukocyte. No matter what precautions I take, no matter how many of those baby antibacterial gels I buy at Bath and Body Works semi-annual sale, no matter how many zinc and echinacea tablets I throw down my gullet each and every morning, I always, always, always get sick during the winter. I know, you're probably thinking, "Getting a nasty cold at the end of the year is no big thing! It happens to everyone, silly goose." You obviously don't know me very well, so let me enlighten you on my health history. I once had laryngitis for three months. I've had strep throat upwards of nine times. I've been questioned on if I'm starting a meth lab due to the amount of pseudoephedrine I've had to purchase all at one time. I fainted in a Target bathroom and had to be taken to the hospital via ambulance. I finished and presented my senior capstone project while hopped up on a Z-pack and Mucinex to treat a case of walking pneumonia. If I get a bruise on my shin, chances are it will still be there next month. I could go on, but I'm afraid you'll catch something just by talking about it.
          This past week, I've been battling my first cold of the season, which is saying something because I'm normally bedridden by October. It started off as an scratchy throat that annoyed me during a poetry reading that quickly developed into a beast with no name. The doctors didn't think it was the flu or strep throat (again) because I didn't have a fever, so they gave me the indispensable wisdom to rest and drink plenty of water and other liquids. Ironically, two things that I despise doing more than anything are resting and drinking water. While we're on the subject of illnesses, I should probably let you know that I have a pretty serious case of FOMO, or fear of missing out (Google it. I dare you. It's a real thing.) This causes me to have a go-go-go energy; I want to do all of the things at all of the times. I figure, I'm 22! I can juggle going out to the bar with my friends, learning Japanese, trekking to a new city to find the apartment of my dreams, working my shitty hostessing job, flowing through daily chaturanga, starting my own eco-friendly clothing line, and writing an academic article on the gender politics in fashion advertising all without sleep! Unfortunately, it is possible that this engines-hot-and-ready attitude is what landed me with an exhausted immune system in the first place, forcing my sorry ass onto the sofa, in front of an endless string of Sex and the City episodes and B-rated romantic comedies.
          However, there comes a time in every quarantined girl's stay in the sick bay where she must go out into the real world. It could be a run to the only Chinese restaurant in the city (that, curiously enough, doesn't deliver) for a vat of hot and sour soup and a double batch of fortune cookies. Maybe she's desperate for mentholated bubble bath and the newest Cosmopolitan. And yes, from time to time there's even the occasional trip to the doctor's office when the going gets really rough. At times such as these one could slap on a mismatched sweatsuit, pull her hair into a topknot, wear her best Jackie O's, and conjure up a wet cough for anyone who may come close enough to recognize her. I, myself have resorted to this ensemble and it works like a charm: no one sits next to you on the bus, your prescription is filled in record time, and there's no need to change when you get back home for your napternoon. However, the side effect of this outfit is a deep depression that only bad fashion can bring a person. And with a stuffy nose/whooping cough/fever/upset stomach/other seemingly deadly symptom, who wants to be sad on top of all that? No one. 
          Thankfully, my house arrest has given me a lot of time to think about solutions to this clothing conundrum. I went with the theme of what-would-I-be-wearing-if-I-accidentally-was-locked-out-of-my-ski-lodge-with-only-a-cup-of-cocoa-for-company? The steps are simple, and can be adapted to anyone's closet. If you have to step out while your sick:

          1.) Layer layers on top of other layered layers. Not only will this keep you warm and protected against the elements of this particularly wet and windy season, it also gives you the ability to take off clothes in the event of an unexpected fever without any indecent exposure charges.  In my case, I made myself into one of those delicious multi-level crepe cakes: camisole under a ribbed tank top under my boyfriend's tee shirt under a giant (and ridiculously comfortable) sweater that I stole from my best friend. You might feel a little bit like a stuffed pepper, especially if you are trying to cram all of these layers into a relatively snug peacoat but believe me, you'll be thankful an hour later when you're sweating in a public coffee shop, trying to finish an overdue blog post.

          2.) Wear the pants in the relationship. As you probably all know by now, if I could I would wear a skirt or dress for every and all occasions. However, no matter how many tights I put on these legs, they are just not as warm as a sturdy pair of skinny jeans. Look for heavier denim; some of those jeggings are really just jersey, painted indigo. If you're not feeling jeans, wool pants have been making a slow comeback with this (and next) seasons love of all things androgynous. Try a high-waisted charcoal or a glen plaid in a brown or toffee color with a paper bag waist, both of which are incredibly trendy and wicked toasty.

          3.) Knits are neato. Not only have I been blessed with a best friend who taught me to see the beauty in particularly ugly sweaters, I also have a mother who knows her way around a knitting needle. She has made me two sweaters, two pairs of socks, and a sharp pair of dinosaur slippers. Through their influence, my own love of knits has grown substantially, which is great because that keeping warm idea I've been talking about? Knits are all about it. Much like Daisy sour cream, a dollop'll do ya. Try leg warmers, fingerless gloves, or a floppy beanie if you don't feel like committing to a whole sweater. Or, if you're particularly adventurous, put them all together. There's nothing wrong with looking like a United Colors of Benetton advertisement.

          4.) Scarves against SARS. Okay, maybe not SARS but not only are scarves stylish, they also help prevent the spread of your nasty ass germs. As gross as it sounds, your scarf is something to sneeze into, cough into, and cry into if your cold medicine makes you as emotional as mine makes me. And bonus! A scarf is ten times prettier than that embroidered hankie that's been festering in your pocket since Thanksgiving. Look up some unusual ways to tie it up or tie it down on Pinterest so you can have a dash of fun with your function. (I mean, what else are you going to do while your sick besides scroll through endless pins? Put that obsession to good use, biddies.)

          5.) For goodness sake, put on a pair of socks. Someone once told me that if you're cold and if you focus on warming up your hands and feet first, the rest of your body will naturally follow their lead. I think this is a big bunch of bologna but I can attest to the fact that having cold feet might be the most uncomfortable feeling in the world, besides sitting in a wet swimsuit in a car that has fabric-covered seats. And again, do you want to feel more uncomfortable than you already do in your hacky-snotty-hazy daze? No. You can go the route of wearing fun socks that will make your tired soul smile every time you happen to gaze at your feet; this works well with moccasins, Converse, Vans, and other super casual footwear. If your wearing boot(ie)s, go for a thick boot sock that you can bunch up around the top. If you favor ballet flats, wear socks that match your shoes. Above, I paired a black sock with a black shoe so not to break up the line of my foot. Another bonus to wearing the ballet flat-sock-leg warmer combo? You look like an off-duty ballerina. Even when they're sick, off-duty ballerinas are significantly more graceful than even the healthiest average human being. Suddenly the weather you're under doesn't seem so bleak, does it Swan Queen?

Alter Egos

          At first glance, you might not peg me as a comic book nerd, but under these hip glasses and peplum skirts I have an unending love for all things superhero. As a little girl, I sat close to the screen, enamoured by the old Superman movies, and just how suave the Man of Steel could be. Along with the usual candy and small toys, Santa tucked comic books into my Christmas stocking. Throughout grade school, I pretended I was the Pink Ranger at recess while everyone else was a Spice Girl (granted, those ladies are superheroes of another caliber, but I digress). My love has followed me into adulthood. My brother and I have lengthy conversations about the newest movie adaptions and how closely they follow original plot lines. I've read and dissected various graphic novels with fellow enthusiasts, weighing literary merit against the element of sheer fantasy. I count down to Free Comic Book Day, and yes, I've become extremely fascinated with the costumes. (This is a fashion blog; did you honestly think I wouldn't mention the tights and spandex?)
          I think what gets me about a super suit is not the constricting construction, the heavy use of primary colors, or the recent popularity of the utility belt. What gets me about a super suit is how it can change a person, how it can advance a person from seemingly normal human being to something spectacular. Superman can't fly without his cape, Iron Man is toast without his armor, and Bruce Wayne is just a pretty boy doing push ups without all of those gadgets. And Alfred. I'm convinced he'd be dead without his butler bestie.
          After thinking about it more and more, I decided that super suits and their transformative powers aren't just found in the pages of first editions or on brightly-lit movie screens. They're in our own closets. I have this theory that we all have fashion alter egos. We have these signature looks that we love, our own Clark Kent getup complete with ill-fitting tweed jacket, thick-rimmed glasses, and awkward disposition around the opposite sex. It's what the outside world sees us in, and is most comfortable seeing us in. However, deep down we all have this other identity that is significantly different from the stylish role we play on most occasions. This look is completely foreign to our friends and loved ones; we would never display it in the light of day because we're certain they wouldn't understand. They'd shun us from society, intimidated by the power we've been harboring internally. We'd be labeled freaks and sent back to Krypton. If only they knew this secret side could save the city, maybe even the world!
          I want to reiterate that I am 100% behind having a signature look. It's the style you are most comfortable in, not only because it looks good on you but also because you, with all of those personal beliefs, opinions, and feelings, make the whole ensemble even better. In addition, we all know that those who feel good, look good. Suddenly, there's a whole lot of winning going on: you feel good because you're in your favorite outfit (which looks amazing on you in the first place, you fox) and because you feel good, your whole being shimmers with confidence, causing you to appear eighty-four thousand times more stylish to everyone who sees you. Soon, your picture shows up all glowing and chic on one of those street style blogs and Urban Outfitters designs their fall line around your ingenue image. You're a star, baby! You're a star!

          However, an epidemic of sorts is sweeping the sartorial part of our fine nation. Nay! A supervillian! (I like extending my metaphors as far as they will stretch.) I've been out shopping with my friends or flipping through the occasional Vogue, and she will point out something completely out of her usual style portfolio. She'll sigh as she wistfully paws the item saying, "God! I wish I could pull this off!"

       And to that, I find myself thinking why the hell not??  Answer: we are all so scared of our desires.  We live in a society of self-deprivation, self-denial. We've become passers. You pass up those delicious brownies in the cafe case or that second glass of wine because you think it's bad for you, because you're "trying to be good." You pass up buying those tickets to the concert you've been dying to see or the country you've been dying to visit because you know you should be saving your money for that ever threatening rainy day. You visit the same coffeehouses, bars, and clubs because they are familiar, they are safe.  The bleak reality of it all is that we're all waiting for something that may never actually happen. We're looking ahead, planning around uncertainty while we waste the moment that we have been given. Now, I'm not saying to take your life savings to Vegas, blow it all at the craps table, hook up with a midget stripper wearing a feather boa, and come home with chlamydia. No, no. What I'm saying is we have to let our freak flags fly every once and a while to feel truly powerful.

          Taking my own advice, I recently stepped into my metaphoric phone booth and changed into my super suit. Call it the Sandy affect or blame it on all that damn rock and roll I listen to but in the words of Allison Vernon-Williams, "I'm so tired of being good." My style alter ego is a cross between Bettie Page and a rockabilly baby. Both looks are all about rebellion. These biddies pulled away from the straight-laced sensibility of Christian Dior's New Look, which was defined by full a-line skirts and buttoned-up blouses. Think Grace Kelly in Rear Window, or Mad Men's Betty Draper in her entertaining finest.  The rockabilly style for women was adopted in order to show off the curves of the body that suffocating crinolines and long dresses hid from the male gaze. Everything was form-fitting. Both pants and skirts had high waists, producing a legs-for-days look. Stiletto heels made their mark, giving women a platform to stand strong on. The style is influenced by music, which was itself an enormous change from the crooners of the previous era. While some may argue these women were sexualized objects, I think differently. They were catalysts of change when women needed it most. The look allowed women (and men, frankly) to have fun, to feel powerful in their femininity rather than thinking it an inferior thing, something to demurely cover up. Women had a choice in how they wanted to present themselves. We should make like those rabble rousers and use our freedom of choice to the fullest. While I got a few weird looks and a lot of grief from rude men in the city, going out on the town in my secret identity was relieving. I felt free in my self-expression, and came to the full realization that I can take the chances I've always been afraid to take, in my fashionable life and otherwise.
          You've got to ease yourself into the waters of your alter ego. First, you have to find it. Look at the people you admire for their style. What is it about them that attracts you, beyond just what they're wearing? How does that shine through onto their clothing choices? Let's take the beautiful M.I.A. for example (another dream alter ego of mine). I admire her because she is outspoken, honest, and bad ass as all getout. She also has a strong hold on her cultural background, and tries to use her celebrity status for philanthropic good. In 2009, she declined being placed on People magazine's list of most beautiful people because Mother Theresa was never honored on the list. Her style mirrors these attributes in bright colors and significant volume, similar to the clothes in the Sri Lankan fashion circuit.
          Now, I'm not about to take pictures of my favorite lady rapper and try and find exact outfit replicas. However, I can risks and try to work some bolder shades and louder patterns into my everyday closet. I could even take it one step further and learn about my own heritage, and then see how those fashion elements resonate with me. It's all about exploration and bravery. If you're nervous, start small. Wear a simple top with beaded embellishment in homage to the flappers of the 1920s. With leather recently being on trend, it's the perfect time to throw on a jacket or a pair of boots and play around with punk. And a pearl necklace is a great gateway to becoming the spitting image of a beautiful 1950s debutante. Do what you want to do because there's no reason to wait around and try it later. Batman never hesitates to jump into full body spandex whenever the bat signal is flashed into the ominous night sky, and do you think Tony Stark gives a damn whenever someone gives him grief about his weird glowing artificial heart? No. He doesn't give a damn because he knows he's the shit. Be your own Tony Stark: wear what you want, drink whiskey, don't give a damn, and know you're the shit.