Breaking Black, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Bright Colors

          I recently had an epiphany in the fitting room of a Forever XXI. While that specific verb and specific proper noun don't normally go together, this is a true story. All names, situations, and places are real, and based on fact, so hear me out. In an attempt to hurry spring along, I decided to go shopping for a new sundress. Seasonal transition lines have officially hit the racks, nibbling on the heels of New York Fashion Week, and I had just received my (slightly depressing) paycheck that morning. Now, I've always been under the impression that if something depresses you, you should be rid of it as soon as possible, which is how I came to the logical conclusion of retail therapy. One of the best places to find an array of different dresses with semi-respectable price tags is Forever XXI.
          Stop. I can hear you groaning from all the way over here.
          I will be the first to admit that this monstrous chain tiptoes the thin line between trendy and trashy much more often than I am usually comfortable with. However, much like the search for the perfect pair of jeans, if you take your time scouring through rack after rack (after rack after rack after rack...), more often than not you'll find something that suits your fancy. Forever XXI tends to get a bad reputation because it's pretty fearless with what it stocks on the shelves. It knows that everyone has a freak flag deep inside that needs to fly free every once and a while, and when that time comes, it'll be happy to provide heavy doses of weird. Even though most of those bright purple, faux fur pimp coats will meet their slow demise and sell for $4.99 in the clearance room, there's always that one girl who is looking for a statement piece like that to complete her closet. F21 rules because they simultaneously refuse to conform and try to please each of their customers.
          But I digress. Because I have this problem of liking pretty much everything, I ended up bringing a million and one dresses with me to the fitting room. While they were all cute (well, okay not all of them; I don't know why I thought cheetah print peplum was going to round out my life...) nothing struck me as hot-to-trot amazing. As paltry as my wages are, I wasn't about to blow them on a sub par dress. I asked the attendant what she thought of the one I was most sold on, a little black number with an illusion sweetheart neckline, white bow print, and a-line skirt. She took half a look at me before suggesting that I try its red twin. On the floor, I had originally picked up the red one but ultimately opted out, thinking it too precious. I slipped into the one she brought me and realized how wrong I was. The red one was anything but precious. The red dress forced me to stand out, even by myself in the comfort of a private dressing room. I couldn't hide from myself. The color was less firetruck, more salmon-swimming-against-the-current red: strong and determined. My pale skin went from bland to brilliant in front of my eyes, sparkling like a Stephanie Meyer vampire. My dark hair took on the opposite effect, the color richer, more striking; it pulled one in with its darkness, like a black hole. All of a sudden I was a White Stripes cover. I was the answer to that age old joke of what's black and white and red all over. I didn't know what to think so, slowly cracking the door open, I asked my New Best Friend what she thought. She pursed her sticky glossed lips as she had me turn for her. "Yeahhhh..." she said, "this is much better. You look like you actually enjoy life now." I told her that this dress was totally out of my comfort zone, that I normally stick to the darker colors. "Yeahhhh..." she sighed again, "You look like one of those girls who wears a lot of black and drinks a lot of espresso."
          Biddie went from bestie to bitch in two shakes of a lamb's tail but it got me thinking: since when did black get such a bad rep? Isn't it supposed to be a classic, pairing with everything and perfect for every occasion? Looking around as I write, I'm noticing that almost every person here has a black something. Black scarves, black shoes, black thick rimmed glasses, black smartphones, and yes, black coffee. I wonder if this is out of choice, or out of lack of choice? Is our love of the neutral becoming a problem?
          Okay, I know that sounds melodramatic so let me try and explain it differently. I feel as if the color black and the term "comfortable" have become synonymous. We all have been taught these wonderful (and completely true) things about black. If the piece fits you well, black can be extremely slimming. It's hard to dirty up a black dress or black slacks, hence why most restaurants adopt it for their dress codes. Because black is the culmination of all colors, it's understandable how it can be acceptable for all occasions; one could wear either black or baby blue to a wedding reception, but the same can not be said when choosing an outfit for a funeral. With black being so universally accepted, we have fallen into a dangerous rut of it becoming our first and normally only choice when it comes down to what to wear. You ultimately blend in when wearing black because everyone can pull it off; you never hear someone going, "Oh, only you could wear that shade of black. It looks so bad on me..." When I think back to all of the fashionable pieces that will always remain in my sartorial heart, very few are black, and those few are expertly tailored or dramatically crafted (see Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's and Jackie O's funeral veil). I feel more and more like America is stylishly depressed. You go out wearing black because it's never let you down before. Your friends say, "Wow, that dress is great" but then it's never mentioned again. That dress is not a conversation piece. What your friend is really saying is, "That black dress helps you pass as acceptable. Moving on."
          As harsh as that may come off, you don't want to be just "great," just "acceptable," do you? You are a stunner. You are a fox. You have every right to be your own conversation starter. I looked into my own closet after my shopping trip to take a gander as to what my black pieces were saying about me. The restaurant that I work for recently dumped the old uniform of white-button-down-and-tie for a streamlined, all black code, so my collection of the dark neutral has grown significantly. Most of my black clothes were just that: black clothes. Things I could go to work in, professional pieces. But I wasn't just wearing them to work, no, no. I was taking them out for nights on the town, treating them like party pieces when, in reality, they're a bit of a snore. I was starting to let basics rule my look. Freshman year of college, I would rock the most insane color combinations while others stuck to hoodies and jeans. Now, I have reached the age of what some would classify "adulthood" and I worry more about what others think. I need to get a steady job and a bank loan, and ain't nobody going to take me seriously in high-waisted, floral print shorts.
          But, so what? Just because I'm twenty-two and just because I'm being thrown into a new, professional world doesn't mean I need to trade my personal style in. There is always room for ikat prints and neon creepers (the shoes, not the person)! Unlike black, bright colors and prints can't be worn for every occasion, so we should start celebrating the times that we can wear them by doing so. There are too many beautiful things to wear, and still so much time to wear them. Starting ASAP, I'm challenging myself to wear more color. Scary, I know. When you choose to wear color, you choose to put yourself out there. You choose to show yourself off. You become the proverbial peacock rather than the pigeon. Here are some tips I've gathered to help you transition from bland to bah-zing!
         
1.) A dab'll do ya. Start small if your shy about bright colors, work it into your accessories first. Try a printed bag or colored belt with jeans and a sweater. Opt for the sparklier jewelry, or thick headband. Even a pop of lipstick can add interest to an otherwise somber ensemble. Try practicing with these small steps every day, and soon color will become a habit and you'll want to wear more.

2.) Try the twin. Pull a me and if the piece you're trying on comes in a color, try that one on, too. It may not work, but you'll never know until you take that chance.

3.) Learn  what colors work for you. It may seem extremely old lady, but "getting your colors done" is something everyone should at least explore. There are handy dandy quizzes floating around the Internet that can help you with this. They take your skin, hair, and eye color (along with a few other factors) and generate a list of hues that will compliment you the best. With my dark hair and light eyes, I'm a winter, which shouldn't really be a surprise to anyone. This profiling gave me insight into colors I never thought I could pull off, like eggplant and rust. I always assumed they'd make me look like a ghost when they actually help my features stand out. Go figure.

4.) Try, try, and try again. Not everything is going to look great. However, not everything that you think isn't going to look good won't look good. You feel me? For example, I recently was shopping with my best friend Hillary and ended up picking up a violently pink neoprene dress. This pink was hurt-your-corneas bright. We both thought that no one could pull such a shade off, which then prompted me to try it on. Obviously. When I put the dress on to show Hillary, she said, "Literally one person could pull off that color. That one person being you." Sometimes seemingly awful things end up being amazing, like the Cupid Shuffle or WarHeads candy. Have a little faith but more importantly have a little fun. You're too fabulous to take yourself seriously all of the time.

Pencil Skirts

          There are some movie scenes that just sink into a person's mind and stay there forever. Something about the lighting, the setting, the accompanying music, the script, the acting, the everything of that moment hits an emotional spot with the viewer. Maybe the movie mirrors the person's life and has brought him to enlightenment as to what to do with his sad state, or maybe the movie makes someone laugh harder than she ever though she could laugh after a day like that. Or, maybe the movie had Jennifer Lawrence in it, which then inspired you to sign up for that Pilates class after all. No matter what way it happens, movies sometimes become more than just entertainment.
          The scenes that have stuck with me are all over the cinematic spectrum. They include but are in no means limited to Cameron killing the car in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, the dance competition in Pulp Fiction, the final (although completely textually incorrect) kiss in the new Pride and Prejudice, the bedroom situation in Barefoot in the Park, Buffalo Gals from It's a Wonderful Life, all of the faces that melted in Raiders of the Lost Arc, and Eva Amurri's entire character arc in Saved! Don't ask why these stick with me because I honestly have no idea. Sometimes, there is no rational explanation as to why something makes an impression. Case in point: the subway grate scene in The Seven Year Itch.
          Marilyn Monroe has had many, many moments in the spotlight. From her cute calendar shots while still a brunette to her breathy birthday serenade to a certain president, it's safe to say her image has thoroughly sunk into the minds of her audience. However, in The Seven Year Itch one scene in particular has made it onto the list of most iconic images of the 20th century. Nine out of ten readers already know what I'm talking about but for that confused cultural ingenue, let me drop you a few clues: it involves a white dress, a city sidewalk grate, and a whole lot of updraft. I love Miss Monroe, honestly and truly but I just don't get that scene. I know it's supposed to be purely provocative, showing much more of the bombshell than most people had probably seen. And yeah, it is hecka sexy. However, in real life NO ONE would have reacted in such casual, dare I say, even inviting manner. It was the 1950s, for goodness sake! If a woman (even if that woman was Mega Fox Monroe) was out, walking around on a date and all of sudden her skirt flies up all around her face, that's a reason to be mortified not amused. It's not cause to laugh, honey pie, it's cause to hail the next cab and call it a night!
          Okay. Maybe I'm overreacting but my own Marilyn moments have not been few and far between. I mean, I live in a city, and I had to wear some sort of skirtlike uniform almost every day for thirteen years. Embarrassing moments abounded. I remember walking from my middle school building to church for mass on particularly windy Wednesdays, clutching the extra fabric of my jumper tight against my legs to protect my dignity. While waiting for the downtown bus home from high school, the rush of the passing traffic stirred my plaid skirt, flirting with the dangerous idea of being flipped. Legend has it that once a girl's skirt flew up and someone noticed she was wearing the Wednesday pair of day-of-the-week underwear on a Friday. She died of embarrassment and shame that weekend. See, Norma Jean? It's all fun and games until someone mentions your unmentionables.
          So what's a lady such as myself to do when it's as blustery as it has been? The easy way out would be to swallow my pride and slap on a pair of slacks and a bowler hat and Charlie Chaplin the shit out of this weather. Easy peasy, lemon squeezie. However, you should know by now dear readers that I am not one to normally 1.) take the easy way out, and 2.) wear pants. I just adore skirts and dresses. It might be getting to the point of obsession, and yes, I'm looking into getting help. But before they try to make me go to rehab, I come with wisdom for my fellow ladies for these last windy weeks of winter. I come bearing pencil skirts.
          I could go on and on about pencil skirts. Seriously. I think I own more pencil skirts than anything else, with the exception of underwear. I'm pretty sure I even have two of the exact same color and style because I was certain something terrible would happen to one, leaving me skirtless and depressed. Again, I know how crazy I must sound but if you would just give me a moment to explain, I'm sure I can convince you to love the cut as much as I do.
          The pencil skirt has been a savior in the fashion world on many levels. First, and possibly most importantly, the pencil skirt saved a woman from the horror that is the hobble skirt. For those of you that don't know already, the hobble skirt is a sort of insane piece of clothing. Imagine a maxi skirt that is bound at the bottom with a scrunchi, right above the ankles. I know, completely ridiculous but it was all the rage around the turn of the 20th century. The simplicity of the pencil skirt made it a savior in yet another way. During World War I, fabric was being rationed in order to adequately clothe the armed forces. Fashion designers and home sewers alike had to make do with the material they had. The pencil silhouette came into fashion during war times because although it was full length, its simple, straight construction lacked the extra embellishments previous eras had favored. It used little fabric while still being a modest piece for a woman's closet.
          In 1940, Christian Dior brought the pencil skirt from the floor to the knee. The designer felt that hiding a woman's leg was an outdated practice for an increasingly modern world. This modified version retained its form-fitting shape, and, to help women move, was equipped with a small split or pleat down the last few edges on the back, also known as a kick pleat.
          The pencil skirt has recently regained popularity in today's chic communities for what I believe are a few reasons. As I stated in my last post, trends are becoming more and more perpetuated by television, and I feel what Mad Men did for suits it also did for pencil skirts. Just look at the costume choices for each female character. You have Betty, who is normally clad in the fuller skirts featured in Dior's New Look. Betty is also kind of a bitch. And crazy. In the viewer's unconscious mind, she's associating the princess dresses of the 1950s with high maintenance and short fuses. Now take Joan, who is quite the fan of the pencil skirt and its close cousin, the pencil dress. Joan is clever, ambitious, and the object of most envy and desire. Again, the unconscious association is that pencil skirts are for all the honeys who make the money, the Alpha Females.
          Another theory I have is that fashion molds itself around what's happening culturally. If you look back on the past decade of style, you can clearly see a theme of ease.  Denim came back in full force, showcasing three fresh cuts which we all hemmed and hawed over: the baggy boyfriend, the skinny stovepipe (which will constantly be my go-to), and the surprisingly flattering wide leg. Athletic wear (unfortunately) drifted over the line into everyday wear, and graphic tees helped you say what was on your mind in 140 sassy characters before the boom of Twitter. Oh, and Crocs, of which there is not much to say but don't. To me, it was almost as if the abrupt terrorism and following war affected our wardrobes. Consumers sought out comfort; we wanted things that fit and things that were familiar. We wanted clothing that we believed to be distinctly American, even though a majority of it was produced in a foreign country. Blue jeans and tee shirts became our uniform, our symbol of solidarity. Unfortunately, this didn't leave a lot of room for femininity.
          Now, I'm not about to say that our battle as a country is over, that our need to stand together is through. But I do feel as if there is a shift in our morale, which translates to what we wear. We want to grow as individuals, we want a fresh start, a strong foundation. We want definition. Speaking with a women's point of view, I think we all want a little more fantasy, a little more fun, a little more escape. A lot of people laugh at the hipster movement, the manic pixie dream girl, and the club kid style but as someone who has dipped my toes into these pools from time to time there's a sense of relief that comes from playing with your clothing, allowing yourself to have fun and enjoy your own flair. As a leading world power, Americans are asked to keep a stiff upper lip, which can get incredibly exhausting.
          But back to the skirt. A pencil skirt is quite possibly the best of both worlds. For a woman, it is both functional and fantastic. Like other skirts, it's completely feminine; with the exception of Marc Jacobs, Scotsmen, and drag queens, it's a rarity to see a man in a skirt. While some may see that as sexist and oppressive, I see it quite differently. Women get to have something men don't have. Yes, it's a one-up in the dressing room but a small victory is a victory nonetheless. I see the pencil skirt as victorious, a symbol of confidence and drive. Women wouldn't settle for the hobble skirt. Women wouldn't settle with the floor length, either. Women wanted it all. The pencil skirt is a symbol of our ability to transition. It can easily go from the work day to a night out, with a few changes in accessory. Unfortunately, I feel a lot of women are scared to wear them, believing the cut to be unflattering, showing off just how overweight/round/undefined/other negative comment they really are. I had a similar mindset about the skirt but much like a healthy habit, the more you do it the more you like doing it. The pencil skirt celebrates the female figure. Woman are supposed to have curves, peaks and valleys that move softly and fluidly. The pencil skirt shows what your momma gave you. You are worth celebrating, and this skirt knows it.
          The pencil skirt is incredibly flexible. While the cut is classic in suiting material such as houndstooth and wool, many designers are presenting them in jersey, leather, and even neoprene (yeah, swimsuit fabric).  For work, a nice woven blouse tucked in looks incredibly sharp but other pairing options can include a cashmere sweater or even a nice jersey v-neck shirt in rich jewel tones, such as Pantone's color of the year, emerald. Also, a cami-and-cardi combo is always a go-to when you're on the go. For casual days, I love pairing a high waisted pencil skirt with an optically interesting graphic tee, sleeves rolled up greaser-style. High-waisted pencil skirts are also great with those crop tops we all hoarded this summer; it's more modest than jeans but still leaves a little seductive sliver of skin peeking out. Pencils are great with both flats and heels, but if you do choose flats take note that you're not breaking up the line of your leg too much. You've got great gams, sunshine. It'd be a damn shame not to show them off, especially in a skirt like this.