Fashion is Fun ... or Forget It!

Recently, I have come under mild fire (Note to self: when craving 'constructive criticism' on all life views, start blog) for perpetuating the Beauty Myth. That is, I have been accused of succumbing, as Naomi Wolf might put it, to the great media machine that is keepin' women down -- "using images of beauty against women" -- with worry about what's fashionable instead of what world issues need fixin'. I am, apparently, wasting my time and talents. (Note to self: I have talent. Oh goody.)

Somehow, I feel the need to defend myself so ....

C'mon, lighten UP for Chrissakes! POP goes the culture, people. Really, if it makes you feel better, I swear I spend most of my days supporting great causes and battling injustices in the global marketplace. Yeh. At night, I simply come home, hang up my cape, and put on the relaxing garb of Fashionista and Diva. Think of me as a blogging Barbara Gordon. (Um, you know? Batgirl. Good, you're with me now.)

Let me clarify for once and for all.

Fashion is properly viewed as a game -- a sport, if you will. And the point -- fanatic fans and stage mothers aside (hello Teri Shields and Mama Aguilera) -- is to PLAY. It's supposed to be FUN. It should make you feel BETTER... not worse. Um... duh.

Consider: Guys love sports. (Yeah, yeah -- it's a stereotype. Go with it for a sec.) They obsess about stats, teams, and who traded whom to where. They gather at Thanksgiving and tackle each other mercilessly Oakland Raiders style. They join leagues and teams and come home after 'Tuesday soccer night' banged up, bruised -- and happy as clams. Their sore muscles pale in comparison to the weekly ritual of post-game bonding-over-beer with buddies.

Fashion is no different. (Stay with me here.)

We chicas read our fashion mags. We obsess about skirt lengths, heel heights and who wore what to where. We gather at black-tie events and wear Jimmy Choos that are impossibly high and mercilessly squash our toes. We join our gal pals and cruise Union Square on random Tuesdays. Our blisters pale in comparison to the ritual post-shopping carping-over-cocktails with the chicks.

Sidebar: In the spirit of sports fans everywhere who spend each sport season picking "fantasy teams", there is now a Fantasy Fashion League. Oh yessssss. The "season" goes from Fall premiere time through the Oscars. You sign up (create your own team or join a public one); choose designers and celebs (there's an official draft); and accumulate points for how many times your designers are mentioned in named fashion press during a week. Offshoot leagues have formed that now cover a yearlong Celebrity League and the Country Music Scene. Water-cooler conversations about "picks" are no longer just for the boys!

Anyway.... the point is: we enjoy ourselves when we PLAY our various sports, be it football or fashion.

So the additional point is that when we stop enjoying ourselves... then and only then ... let the madness end! No sport should make a slave of its devotee. Noone should be tossing balls with a dislocated shoulder -- and noone should be obsessing about fitting into the latest micro-mini or wobbling through carpool duty on Manolo 104s.

The EveryDay Diva reminds you of the real golden rule: If it's not feel-good fun, forget it!

Therefore, this post is dedicated to those fashion trends -- recently reported up-to-the-minute manias -- that should be bucked like a bronco, baby!

Trends are, by their very nature, temporary. More to the point, in fashion at least, they are usually born out of some whacked out designer's idea of what would look just absolutely fab on his/her muse of a 6-foot, 110-lb., coked out model at 3 AM in Bungalow 8. Naturally, therefore, many of these ideas will be seriously unflattering (read: UNfun) on a population that averages considerably shorter and rounder and lives in non-vampiric daylight.

FYI, in 1950 the average woman was a healthy size 12 -- displayed in all her full-figured glory in ad after ad. Check out these from Maidenform. Seen anything over a Size 0 in an InStyle ad lately? (Note: The Dove "Campaign for Real Beauty" gets a rare pass. Love those REAL girls.) Hey, PLUS size model Emme, while an outspoken advocate for beauty at any size, is a mere 14. Cha! Fashion editors take note: We love to play with your wares -- truly. But we are not now -- nor would we ever want to be -- freakin' Kate Moss. Thankyouverymuch.

This then, is my take on What Not to Wear (the British version -- forget the rip-off TLC American version) if you, like me, are an average female human*:

* Note: Darlings, but of course the EverdayDiva means average in size and shape.
We are never average in attitude and fabulosity.

Wide, wide belts. I truly wish I were slender enough for this trendy look -- but cinching one of these around my waist, I'd have to forgive the folks at Jimmy Dean for mistaking me for sausage links. Choose a max 1.5" wide leather or canvas belt around the waist -- or better yet a low-slung wide belt worn low over the hips. Still of-the-moment trendy -- and yet you will NOT look like breakfast food.

Leg warmers. I don't care if Gucci puts them in 87 hip new ads and they're not wool but thin grey cotton. They are still undeniably, unavoidably Jane Fonda. Unless you are heading to dance class, I suggest you choose patterned or textured hose. Better yet, it's summer: head to the Estee Lauder counter for the best tanner made and go California bare. Besides, I'm with Ted Turner -- I want nothing to do with Jane or her legs.

Skinny Jeans. I loooove this look -- especially scrunched over stilletos. Please, as mentioned to death I am a child of the 80s. Sadly, all legs are not created equal. Moreover, all butts are not created equal to the legs upon which they sit. Please be honest with your mirror -- you cannot stuff 20 pounds of potatoes in a 5-pound sack. Stick with the bootcuts.

Big Prints on Small People. Huge flowers are all the rage this season -- the larger and leafier, the better. Alas, if you have a small frame you will tend to look like my grandma's garden wall gone mad rather than a fashion-forward diva. Stick to smaller prints on white or pastel. You'll still look super summery but NOT like you're needing to be trimmed down.

Wooden Platforms and Espadrilles. Now don't get me wrong. The higher the better, as far as my shoes go. I loooove having a little extra height from which to view the world. But hey, even Naomi Campbell infamously fell off her Vivienne Westwood 5" platforms -- halfway down the runway, no less. Yowch. Seriously embarrassing, not to mention painful.

Anyway, heels that high are not meant for mere mortals -- or those whose day generally consists of anything more taxing than daintily crossing your legs in a Louboutin ad. Love them from a distance and wear them for special occasions. Or around people you simply MUST tower over.

And one more:

Cropping Caution: Cropped tops and cropped jackets are a great look over a long T-shirt and jeans, or a pencil skirt. They are particularly cute camoflauge if you are blessed with more-generous-than-36A bra size. However, unless you have fab abs, please please do NOT inflict your tummy bulge on the world. No matter what the ad says, do NOT, under any circumstances, 'fall into the GAP.' Ick.

Now, go out there and save the world ... and look good doing it! xoxoxo

Somewhere over the rainbow...

... there's supposed to be a leprechaun and a pot of gold. I'm rather hoping it's Tom Ford standing by a pot of gold lame Gucci ballet flats!

Bernardo is also a fave for tantalizing tootsies in shimmery shades this season. Strangely enough, Aerosoles also has some smokin' glittery footwear. What's up with that? Aerosoles used to be strictly octogenarian-wear ... now they've made a leap into the realm of 'hip'. OK, maybe not completely 'hip', but they're trying. A+ for effort, I say. (FYI, Lucky mag this month has, on Pg. 72, rocked the fashion world by declaring that not only is preppy back in -- oh please, I called that over a month ago -- but Oxford shoes are to be IT for spring. Ick. No way, no how, not on these polished-to-perfection peds. Even with menswear trousers the look is just too 'Annie Hall' for a diva. Double ick.)

So, aaannnnywayyy... Now that it has FINALLY stopped pissing rain here in the lovely Bay Area, and it is gloriously SUNNY, I am expecting a deluge of COLOR to hit the streets. Yessirree Bob. (Who IS Bob, anyway?) The word for spring is color. Or colour if you're from across the pond.

Yes, yes, yes. Black & white is also STILL the big, fat trend. But there's a virtual color explosion out there, so hop on it. Release your inner rainbow. And diva darlings, rainbows in the Diva's world ONLY come in bold, bright jewel tones (no matter what they told you when they did your "colors", everyone looks fabulous with a dash of brightness) -- so don't let me catch you in any drab pastels. These fab color trends will last right through Fall -- the NY 2006 Fall Ready-to-Wear runway shows were filled with jewel tones. (And FYI, sneak preview good news for those of us with Bridget Jones' thighs: pantsuits are back, and WAY better than ever.) But me ... well, right now I'm forward-focused on summer and bright warm colorful light. Bring it ON. I mean, dreary winter is just sooo last year!

RED (Herve Leger) YELLOW (Donna Karan ... drool, sigh)

We've already talked about Kelly Green, but LOVE the new indigo by Anna Sui as well -- with boots to die for.

And of course, April showers have brought May flowers, too.... and we don't mean the kind with pilgrims in them. Ha. New England joke. Ehh.

The flowers we mean here are two specifically: orchids and lilies. There seem to be flora sprouting everywhere, but these two genres are taking the cake. Or the plant food. Or your hard-earned dollars. Er, or mine, more likely.

In any case, I'm seeing absolultely everywhere HUGE flower prints. Like Pucci exploded in floral form. Forget my previous Burberry Prorsum obsession with tiny blue bulbs (OK, don't forget it, exactly, just put it aside momentarily until I've saved up the 2K its demanding even on eBay). BIG flowers are IT, my lovelies. Check out the April issue of Shop Etc. Or run over to your local Tarzhay and check out Mizrahi's "Design for All" lilies on shirts, skirts and bedclothes. Big flowers everywhere. Big time. Even for bed time.


To adore ...

and to snore!

You know what they say ... be sure to take time out to shop and sell the flowers!!

Transitions

'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable.
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.
Noone can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands.
And breathe. Just breathe.
Yea, breathe. Just breathe. -- Anna Nalick

It's amazing to me sometimes that the globe keeps spinning and there isn't a single damn thing you can do but hang on for dear life. Even when something happens and you really feel the world should stop -- of course it doesn't. It just keeps up its relentless pace. And most days I feel like I'm sprinting right along with the rest, keeping pace nicely, moving along solidly in the middle-to-front of the pack -- but sometimes, every once in a blue moon, I simply lag behind. Or I stop. And then, like the weakest gazelle straying from the herd, with the lions looking on hungrily, I notice just how frenetic it all seems and how if you don't keep up things tend to slam into you, run you over, or chew you up and spit you out. And the world really doesn't stop to notice. Everyone just keeps right on runnin'.

And its just such a long damn race, isn't it?? How very, very long the journey has seemed at times. And yet my older friends tell me I am but a whiny fledgling. OK, I'll cop to that. Maybe I'm just delving into the realm of self-pity. But today I just need to reflect that, nod to Jerry, it has indeed been a long, strange trip.

And I've decided that what makes it seem so tiring are TRANSITIONS.

It's all about transitions.

New cities. New jobs. New relationships. New friends. And with every bit of 'new', some bit of 'old' seems to retract just that much further into the inaccessible recesses of the past. Thanks to the wonders of the Internet (yeah, okay -- thanks MySpace and Yahoo! and AOL), I've re-connected with bits of my past I thought were pretty much resigned to history. But the relentless pace of life moving forward, and the effort it takes simply to stay ahead of the game, seems to lead, albeit unintentionally, to much of our experience being allowed just to fade into obscurity while ever-changing new environments and scenarios and people come into being. Which on most days I accept without much thought -- or rather with real JOY -- as the inevitable process of life and happy growth. But today I'm thinking about it differently. And rather sadly.

2005-2006. New Year's only yesterday... now generally Easter and Spring time, Summer comin' up fast ... and each moment seems a time for new beginnings. Something new is always beginning. And I'm OK with that -- in fact most of my friends would laugh and tell you that I wouldn't have it any other way. Hell, I've lived 16 places in 13 years. I am the queen of 'moving on.' True dat, but it does get a little daunting always to start over. Sometimes I'm tired of 'new' and I yearn for 'old' -- or maybe just 'familiar.' I am generally indefatigable, but I tell you -- sometimes I just cannot muster the enthusiasm for one more brand spanking new adventure, however cool, exciting and fun. I just do not have the energy to 'carpe' one more damn 'diem.'

Today is one of those days.

Here's me -- adventursome, can't sit still me -- asking for just a tad bit of stability and continuity. And comfort. Can comfort be mobile? Can it come right along with me for the ride? Why do I associate stable and comfortable with NOT getting out there and really living? Perhaps there is something wrong with my perception of a life paradigm where 'stability' and 'excitement' don't coexist easily, if at all -- or is that really just one of life's unfair little ironies? Ugh. I am thinking myself in circles ... and really, my best friends would so tell me to get my head outta my butt at this point. But sorry, I'm just having that kind of day.

Yes, Mother told me there would be days like this.

However, she forgot to tell me she wouldn't always be here to tell me there would be days like this. You see, last week was the 6-month anniversary of her very unexpected death. And today is Mother's Day. And I cannot stop crying. And I cannot accept THIS transition. I do not WANT to start over this way -- without my Mom. I want the world to stop so I can catch up, and grieve, and process this. But it just keeps going, and I'm so, so very tired right now.

There isn't a price I wouldn't pay for one -- just one -- more time with her sitting on the edge of my bed, stroking my hair, and bestowing one of her patented "make it all OK" hugs that reminded me that there I DO have stability, and continuity, in a loving family that will ALWAYS be there for me. Even when they're not physically there anymore.

And then she would tell me to dry my tears, stop feeling sorry for myself and think of all the blessings that I DO have. Which are considerable. She would remind me that I am a power unto myself with gifts both natural and learned and that I will run this race as fast and as furiously as anyone, even when my confidence lacks and my strength flags. She would tell me not to give up, and that even when I feel so very much alone, I carry her pride and love with me whereever I go. And I WILL go -- and GROW -- through hundreds more transitions, some good, some not so good. But that eventually I will 'win' in one way or another because my real center... my real continuity... my real stability... is always within reach: within myself.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I miss you. And I hear you.

Vegas, baby!!!

A surprise wedding in a downtown "chapel" ... the clink of coin and the flash of cash ... dice splashng onto green felt ... miles of black-shirted electronics geeks and over-the-top booth babes on a million-square-foot convention floor ... late night club cocktails and early 'rehab' by the pool ... piles of poker chips in a private room ... 'Fashionistas' that double as strippers in anything-goes retail heaven ... that's right... it's VEGAS, BABY!

Last week, the EverydayDiva headed East, young woman, for a weekend fling and a weekday work assignment at what seemed like a never-ending NAB (electronics & media) trade show. Somehow Sin City has a way of warping the space-time continuum, n'est-ce pas??

Ever been to a Vegas wedding? Kitsch meets cool in a very mobius strip "it's so whacked it comes all the way back around to being amazing" kind of way. That Friday evening the world of single divas lost a member as my best girl H. married her guy, S. -- with yours truly (and R.) as witnesses to this fine occasion. H. was her usual stunning self (the married divas gain one!) in a short white jersey dress and little coverlet and matching peep-toes, and carrying a single white rose. S. was lookin' fine in his traditional cowboy gear (white hat!) -- and a gold ring the size of a small life preserver. (S., who is a very big guy, is affectionately known as King Kong.) So, congrats to the new Mr. and Mrs., who then spent their honeymoon at a trade show.... Vegas, baby!



What's Vegas without rich food (and richer gamblers, but that's not us, alas), right? Among the weeklong nibble-fest were trips to classic greats Nobu and Spago. Both are still outstanding. Having built its reputation on 'Asian American fusion', Nobu does a Black Cod with Miso whose recipe should be locked in a vault, never changed, and considered a national treasure: YUM! Wolfgang's signature salmon pizza with caviar was scrumptious and fit for, well, a diva... naturally!

Cohorts K., T., M. and I also spent a 'morning after' Blood Mary brunch at Caesar's poolside, where the scenery was... er... brief, let's say. Click here to check out K.'s blog (fun reading!) for your viewing pleasure. And I say "pleasure" in the sense of: eeeek! Little did we know, at that very moment, Britney and Kevin were there, too, promoting his new CD at club Pure.Good thing we didn't know or I might have had to spit up a hairball.

Anyone who's been to Vegas recently must realize that it's now retail mecca... and who are K. and I to fight the tide, right? We started to drag poor T. and M. through the Forum Shops, all 87 newly extended levels -- but alas, they do not have the super-shopper constitutions of K. and I, and they left. Imagine! Click here again to read K.'s account of our conversations during our marathon afternoon of browsing -- and yes OF COURSE buying (shhhhh, don't tell my landlord). Suffice it to say that K. and I are not allowed in retail environments together anymore -- until we find a source of unlimited wealth. Sugar daddies anyone??

After our over-indulgent weekend, Monday and Tuesday were filled with traipsing the trade show, working the booth, and hawking electronics: sell, sell, sell! However, anyone who has ever been to any show knows that the REAL wheeling and dealing and, er, 'bonding with colleagues and clients' (ya, that's it, ehem) takes place after hours, at endless rounds of receptions and corporate parties. NAB is no exception and we vote that the best party was Monday night's Hawaiian-themed Harris bash at the House of Blues. C'mon ... who wouldn't love rockin' out to a great band, sippin' killer Tequila Sunrises, and sportin' some seriously deranged pink flamingo glasses.

Monday night was also a personal fave as your EverydayDiva got to live out her 'celebrity poker maven' fantasy. Thanks to new poker pal D., who dragged me into the private poker room at the Monte Carlo, yours truly played real live Vegas poker with the big boys. OK, medium boys. No, I didn't have a hat. No, I wasn't wearing shades. Yes, it was only a 2-dollar table. BUT I WAS WINNING. For a while. Then I lost. A bunch. Sigh. To my 'backers', D. and R. -- one more hand??? Hey, it's Vegas, baby!

We ended our Sin City sojourn with a Tuesday night trip to GhostBar at the Palms. Slightly past its prime, it's still a hip spot and you can't beat the sparkly nighttime view of Vegas from the rooftop. Overpriced cocktails and underdressed Fashionista dancers (only in Vegas can you promote a show where "fashion" equates with "porno in spandex and vinyl" ... though the boy(s) certainly appreciated it... ehem), it was a cool scene and a groovy ending to a fun-filled biz trip.

Ah, the desert oasis of Vegas. I think I'm ready to go back ... in about a year.

Too much Vegas, baby!!