The World is on Fire, Let's Go Shopping

I have been absent -- mostly due to things like family illnesses and my mother's death, and associated travel and mute heartbreak. I won't even talk about the current political events because there is no talking there but only screaming. And yet: no matter what is going on, those of us who continue living carry on with the mundane stuff. We eat, we sleep, we create art, we write blogs. We work out, we tend to the young and the elderly, we feed cats and let them outside. And we shop.

Today I want to give a shoutout to my favorite city, Moscow. And to two favorite shopping destinations there: one old, one new. But first, some street views.

Incidentally, this puffer coat by The Eight Senses saw me beautifully through most of January in Moscow. Respect! The only time I needed something more insulated was during a -20 freeze, which lasted three days and seriously hampered my walking time.

And here's this coat again, in SVMoscow. I wrote about them before, and I keep going back year after year. It's not just the amazing selection and the beautifully curated space, it's not just the fresh collections by The Row, Ann Demeuleemester, Yohji Yamamoto, and Vetements. It's this mirror, it's the quiet interior. It is its sense of sanctuary. I am not the one for churches, but I do find a degree of spiritual contentment trailing my fingers along their racks of black Japanese and Belgian avant garde, drinking tea in the spacious front area, walking around with the wooden floors whispering underfoot.

The greatest treasure of this space and my favorite salesperson in the world is Roman. He is a friend and a confidant, and a person who saved me from myself more times than I can count. Some Roman quotes which always make me laugh:

"No. NO. Take this off IMMEDIATELY."

"I will not let you try this on -- it's too big, it'll swallow you whole and your broad shoulders won't save you."

"I feel I would be doing you a disservice if I let you buy another black dress."

(He is always right, by the way.)

And it is also thanks to Roman that I visited the showroom of two Russian brands, Ruban and Pe for Girls. Both are the brainchildren of Alisa and Yulia Ruban, designer sisters. Pe for Girls is their younger line, much less expensive than their main one, but still exhibiting the same quality -- structured cashmere tops lined in silk, velvet track suits, simple timeless dresses:

I knew about their main line, RUBAN, which is always exquisitely and inventively constructed, but it took Roman's tip to send me looking at the Pe and its wearable and deceptively simple silhouettes, the sort of thing you can wear to work or to lounge on the couch, and always be secretly delighted by the sweep of the hem or the substantial and smooth hand of the fabric.

It took me a second visit to venture a look at the main line -- elaborate clothes with couture sensibilities require a certain state of mind. There is always a special energy in designer showspaces -- they tend to be quieter and sparcer than retail, and I especially enjoy the ones that reflect the aesthetics of their creators not only in clothes but in decor. I loved the RUBAN showroom so much -- it is so open and straw-colored, and the clothes are exquisite. 

Also they are not exactly cheap, but I lucked out and walked right into their biggest season sale. I am a sucker for structured and tailored clothes as much as I am for Belgian avant garde, and I do firmly believe in supporting domestic manufacturing (both Russian and US -- this is what happens with two homes.) The look below caught my eye right away, and after trying on the skirt I took it home.

And wore it for the first day of the Spring semester, with my trusty Protagonist made in NYC shirt. 

I dress up for my classes because they are important to me, and by dressing up I convey my sense of excitement and respect for the occasion. Or at least I hope I do! I like to wear things made by people I admire and respect. It is importantfor me to support those who are truly creative, who invest in ethical practices, who care about sustainable manufacturing while creating beauty that keeps people warm.

Because we are alive, we must leave our houses, and we must wear clothes. They tell the world of who we are and where we are coming from, of our aesthetics and desires. We chose our clothes because they matter. And we wear these clothes to honor the people who dreamed them up and made them, who put them onto shelves and racks for us to find, and those who showed them to us and talked us into trying them on.

Because even as the world falls apart, we carry on with shopping, dressing, and looking after one another.

Versatility

(Transferring frames from the nuc box to their forever home.)

This came out of a few talks with various people, but it seems to me that the new luxury nowadays is space -- as witnessed by high-end boutiques with a single rail and a few wispy garments hanging minimalistically on it. Having things is passe; having space isn't. And for one's wardrobe to be like this, pieces have to play many roles: and lately I find that I tend to wear the same things to work, going out, hanging on the weekends... everything but the gym! (If you see me and I am in sneakers and leggings, this means I am coming from the gym or going there. I have my principles.)

So this necessitates clothes that can be worn -- as much as I love intricate textures and delicate fabrics, I wear them to pieces, because in life things stain and snag; good quality clothing though gets ragged and worn in interesting ways, acquiring patina and character, rather than simply falling apart (one more reason to avoid cheap fast fashion, but enough on that.) So even my expensive stuff is worn everywhere... Including work. Mostly work, if I am being honest.

I rarely talk here about work because boundaries, but I just wanted to share a couple of pictures of me working in the apiary on campus. Last week, we were installing a new nuc (short for a nuclear colony, basically a quick and easy way to get a new hive going. A nuc contains a queen, worker bees, brood, and honey frames.)

Here's the frame with the queen. She is the big one with short wings in the middle:





And here's a somewhat better view of my outfit.




The pleated skirt is by Silvae, and the neoprene top is ADAY sample from their recent sample sale. The coat is my favorite INAISCE piece.

Incidentally, Jona Sees of Inaisce greatly influenced my view on what makes a versatile piece: his clothes do not look immediately easy to wear, with their precise cuts and elaborate designs, but trust me, they are. This sleeveless jacket is easily my most-worn piece: I wear it for work, on walks, on the plane (it unbuttons on the back and makes a great plane blanket). Warm weather jacket or winter layering piece - it works for everything, which is really cool considering that it looks like a really complicated and architectural piece.

Now I will only buy clothes I can tend to my hives in.... shoes, however, might be another matter altogether.

Spring and return to blogging

And this is how it always goes: I decide to blog more regularly and then the semester hits, stories and scripts become due, and the weather is too horrible to contemplate stepping outside voluntarily.

Thankfully, spring has arrived - at least, I can resume my regular walks; no need to wear two coats and a blanket anymore. Look, we even went out to an Easter brunch! (And took out some gardening supplies.)

This is my Issey Miyake Pleats Please dress. Shoes are LD Tuttle.

Of course it's still a bit chilly so I'm wearing a vintage Japanese kimono. Cuff was a gift from a friend.

I intend to start posting again with some regularity; I did recently travel to NYC to see the Bjork exhibit at MOMA  (underwhelming but had its moments and reignited my interest in her music videos), and to visit with Jona Sees of Inaisce, which was amazing. Full report forthcoming!

Exciting Writing News

(Sam Koji Hale and handmade puppets) 

Finally, it can be announced! I have co-written the screenplay for YAMASONG: March of the Hollows, the new feature length puppet film by Sam Koji Hale. It is currently in pre-production with Dark Dunes Productions. It is a sequel to Sam's award-winning short YAMASONG. So yes, pretty thrilled about this one!

(with Sam Koji Hale)

It was announced last Saturday during the Handmade Puppet Dreams Filmmaking Symposium, held at Brooklyn Academy of Music. Here are some pictures from the event, including the puppet of Nani, one of the main characters in Yamasong. 

 (with Chris and Nani)

(with Mallory O'Meara, producer with Dark Dunes, and Sam)

(With Mallory)

(Meeting Nani for the first time!)

(Clothes notes: I am wearing a sweater by LAKE -- formerly KamenskaKononova, and pants by Ksenia Shnaider. I intend to wear Ukranian designers to all public events this year.)

Routines

(Mushroom, onion, and bacon omelette)

I am such a creature of a habit that nothing makes me happier than a well-established routine. A GOOD well-established routine, I should say, as it takes me months and sometimes years to finagle a bit of my life into a fitting pattern, the repetition of which never bores me but rather comforts me. Like a favorite sweater, a routine should be cozy and it should also fit -- into the time available to it, into the season, and most of all into the notion of a person I would like myself to be.

So it is with my weekend mornings in the fall -- they are long and free, and the weather is perfect for that sort of thing. I wake up at 6:30 --  a late morning for me, since on the weekdays I am up at 5 am. I get ready and walk to the gym for my 8 am barre class. I love morning exercise classes, it's such a nice way of starting the day. Especially barre -- not too intense, but with plenty of varied movement and stretching, I feel energized and not exhausted.

After the class, I walk some more: I stop by a local Italian market to get some fresh rolls and almond milk, and then continue to the coffee shop, to get my latte and Chris's chai (yes, we like foofy drinks, what of it?) and walk back home. The loop home-gym-store-coffee-shop-home is just under three miles, and I get back by 10 am. By then, I am ready for breakfast, and usually cook something fun for the both of us -- omelletes, like the one pictured above. It's from today. Chris also enjoys hash browns, which I make from scratch. We get our produce from farmers' markets, when in season, and from Door-to-Door Organics year round. (And that is also a part of my routine: by opting to have most of my food delivered, I free up time to do other things. Yes, I do realize that we are very fortunate to be able to do that.)

We eat breakfast and drink our coffee, and then it is on to shower, internet and/or movies, lunch, reading, errands, afternoon, grading, prep for classes. I cook lunch as well, since it' the weekend, like this cod with piperade, roasted potatoes, and parsley almond sauce (via Blue Apron).

But it is the mornings that are my favorite, and I treasure every weekend day when it is not too cold or rainy to walk to the gym and all over town, errands and leisure pleasantly entwined, a perfect balance between indulgence and purpose.

Almost Sweater Weather!

Wouldn't you know it, as soon as I want to do a fall fashion post, temperatures jump to 90F. Not so much sweater weather, although this past week has been hopeful: brisk mornings that required a sweatshirt on my usual walk to and from the gym, and the air had this crisp quality I love so much, with the under-taste of apples and yellow leaves. Oh well,the fall is on pause for now, but to celebrate this almost-fall, I'd like to talk about almost-sweaters.

I love cashmere and wool, and the heavy fluid knits in oversized and shrunken silhouettes. But lately my concept of sweaters has expanded to include the sort of in-between garments that are not quite jackets, not quite knits, and yet they are worn as toppers and technically can substitute for either. Here are some favorite pieces:

COS pullover: it is made in woven wool, with a beautiful drape. Wears like a suit, with an ease of a sweater -- perfect with a collared shirt and dress pants.

 Isabel Marant boiled wool jacket. Even though it is technically a jacket, the fabric (thick, soft and woolly) has the give of a knit. During last winter's polar vortex, I layered it under coats, and never looked back.

Shockingly versatile double-faced wool piece by Protagonist. The wool is thick and structured, so that this pullover has an architectural character, and yet functions like a knit. I lived in it last winter and cannot wait to start wearing it again. Here it is at the American Museum of Natural History:

(Layered over Protagonist silk top, with Carin Wester trousers and Emerson Fry trainers).

Recently, I added another piece to my collection of these liminal garments: a wool and suede jacket by Primerova. It is an open jacket in very soft, grey heavy fabric reminiscent of a thick grandpa cardigan. Suede inserts on the shoulders and suede self-belt give it added character, and it can be layered over shirts, t-shirts, other knits, or worn on its own. In the pictures below, I am wearing it with Alexander McQueen belt (it's the one from Spring 2013 beekeeper-themed collection, and I am obsessed with it! There are tiny jeweled bees on the buckle.)

Shoes are Alexander Wang, and the skirt is from Viktor Luna's sample sale. I like the slightly messy look of the jacket here, but of course it can be worn in a more structured way. So I will count among my versatile almost-sweaters (or not-quite jackets), and cannot wait for the temperatures to cool off enough to wear it with long-sleeve t-shirts and tweed pants. Here's to hoping for a long and cool September!

On Simplicity

(Celine FW 2013 runway. Image via vogue.com)

Lately, many of the fashion blogs I read have been pushing the whole minimalism thing. Not just in clothing cuts, where the runways indeed having tended toward the spare and the monochrome and the beautifully sculptural, as Phoebe Philo, Jil Sander, and Stella McCartney reached farther and deeper into the fashion psyche. I am of course down with that -- 99% of my stuff is black, cream, grey and blush. But there is also another kind of minimalism happening: shopping diets, various challenges with artificially restricted wardrobes, epic closet purges, and the general impetus to simplify one's life and getting dressed in the morning. While I am not a fan of the idea that anyone's wardrobe MUST be a certain size, I am certainly down with the simplification as well. Most of it is practical: we have one walk-in closet (not a large one), and husband and I share it 50-50. There are shelves and bins for foldables, but most of my clothing is tailored and thus has to be hanged. So I cannot really expand beyond a single rail, so for a long time the rule has been that if I bring something new in, something has to go. Which hasn't been an issue really because in the past few years my size has changed, so most of my old clothes had to move out. I haven't been replacing them so much as I have been finding new pieces, that were more appropriate to my current taste and aesthetic.

And what I have noticed is that lately I have been wanting things in a different way. I have grown up when it wasn't that we couldn't just afford to buy new, pretty clothes, but the clothes were simply not available. I did not know that designers existed. I wore the same brown woolen uniform dress (standard issue, and by "the same" I mean the same one dress, we didn't have duplicates) six days a week during the school year, so the sartorial exploration was neither an option nor a pressing issue. So my infatuation with fashion happened later in life -- starting just before graduate school, with short floral skirts and lace up boots, and waxed and waned with the trends.

(Me, in grad school. The resemblance in uncanny!)

But as I am getting more and more entrenched in my forties, I find less interest in trends and high cache designer labels, and am drawn to smaller, more under the radar designers, who tend to augment the small volume with high craftsmanship. There also seems to be more artistic freedom in small indie operations (fashion as well as publishing), and that often translates into things that hover seemingly outside of fashion as it exists on runways and fashion magazines; maybe not timeless, but at least not as easily dated. I also find more value in well-curated boutiques with a small (ish) selection than in huge online outlets; and this, I think, is the thing that I am striving toward expressing: the point of view necessarily has to be narrow, and this narrowing, this doing-away with the superfluous, is what development of personal style is about. It is also about putting your money where your mouth is.

Man Repeller recently ran a great post on how "investment pieces" are really a scam: there is no return on that investment. Which is of course true: resell value of clothing is abysmal, and getting to wear something you bought is hardly dividends. That post makes a few keen observations on how the fashion mags keep selling us stuff calling it investment pieces which you will "treasure forever" -- a good thought but if it were true, wouldn't we all already be saturated with those pieces? If that how it worked, one's wardrobe would be set by the age of 35 or so. But of course there's novelty that keeps us shopping: "Have you ever purchased something that you said you’d wear forever? Probably. How long does “forever” actually last, though? If I’m being really generous, I’d give the perpetually-wearable piece in question three years before it’s rendered absolutely futile.

We are humans, we crave change," Medine writes. She is not wrong; but the impulses are not necessarily in contradiction. Craving change can be satisfied with a fairly static and even small wardrobe, I think; the trick is to have the intense love for each and every piece, and to find joy in curating one's closet as one would a collection -- culling ruthlessly, selecting sparsely.

One tendency that I often have to fight is the idea of multiple pieces: "I love this sweater dress. I wonder if I can find similar." It took me a while to recognize that multiples are a bad idea, because if I have a perfect piece, why would I wear its pale doppelganger? And after that, the only items I do have multiples of are white shirts (in different fabrications and with different collars that DO wear differently) and black pants (same).

So you can imagine my thrill when The Line (an online boutique with a brick-and-mortar counterpart, The Apartment) opened. Curated by Vanessa Traina, one of the fashion's more influential and, dare I say, interesting people. This is their raison d'etre: "Our vision stems from a desire to pare back, strip down, and pull together—the search for refined, versatile, and honest goods that come together in our New York City home, The Apartment. Built to last but never boring, these objects are a mix of established favorites and our latest finds from emerging names across fashion, home, and beauty. What unites these quintessential things is their staying power, the intention of their making, and how they work together in the context of a carefully considered life."

Yes, I know, it's just a fashion/lifestyle website. I know they sell an egg cup for $125, which is admittedly a steep price for an egg cup. But an object of art? Not at all! But as lovely as their home goods are, it's the fashion I want to talk about. So far, they have four clothing designers, and the selection is minimal in all senses of the word. And yet, I don't think I have ever seen a collection so closely aligned with my aesthetic and understanding what beautiful clothes are. Sure, Vince is everywhere, and Reed Krakoff is not exactly an unknown, but the emerging designer, Kate Wendelborn of The Protagonist, was the one who blew me away. Her clothes are sculptural, fluid, classic, unique, rendered in a palette of white, black and blush (with some cobalt blue). The textiles are exquisite -- I have seen such attention to fabrics in very few other designers, most notably Van Hongo (perhaps not surprisingly, both gravitate toward Japanese textiles). Basically, it is everything I love about fashion -- and I cannot help but imagine a wardrobe of such pieces, made new everyday by subtle, previously unnoticed details.

It is rare to find a designer that speaks directly to me; it is even rarer that I want to point at a website and say, "yes, this is exactly it; this is what I wanted to say the whole time." And to that effect, I will leave you with this:

"In a world saturated with stuff, mindless accumulation has become the default mode: a frenzied imperative to “stock up” rather than select with care, to layer seasonal “statement pieces” over disposable “basics,” and, from beneath a teetering pile of things, constantly start anew rather than build upon a firm foundation."

And this foundation is really what I've been seeking, style- and fashion-wise, lately. While I might not want to pare my closet down to a gleaming rack with ten hangers on it, I don't want my half of the closet clogged with multiple not-quite-right jackets and dull work-appropriate wear. I want to see each piece and hear clearly why I have it and why I should wear it today. While novelty and change are strong forces, so is knowing who you are. And I want to be able to say it without uttering a word.

On summer, The Virgin Suicides, with some outfit pics.

And just like that, the summer is almost over. I have watched The Virgin Suicides twice  last week, because this just happens to be that kind of summer – hot and lolling, indulgent and haunting. It’s an interesting movie; at first, it seems male-gazey as all get out, but this is only if you buy into the narrative setup of object (Lisbon girls)-subject (the neighborhood boys)-narrator (the novel’s auctorial voice). It took me a while to break away from this and to realize that the boys and the narrator are just two middle and superfluous, ego-driven layers of this four-layer cake of a movie – but the Lisbon girls and the film’s director, Sofia Coppola are the id and the super-ego – that is, the things that matter. Both female subjects and the directorial eye are invisible to the men framed by them – they talk about how women are those mysterious, ultimately unknowable creatures, but in doing so they only reveal their own limitations; if we are to stick to the Freudian framework, ego’s understanding capabilities are very limited. Id might be unknowable to it, but not to itself (yes, I know this is not a perfect metaphor; bear with me here).

So it is really a fascinating movie: male narrators and characters spend the entire movie failing to understand and, ultimately, save women around them – women who are mysterious to them but not to themselves or the director or the viewer. Kirsten Dunst and Sofia Coppola both understand Lux; so do we, as viewers. It is ultimately ends up being a very female movie – with men providing much of sound, fury, and confusion and if that is filtered out, we are left with the image of the decaying house, a half-eaten sandwich left on the steps, four girls lolling on the floor, with the sounds of summer coming in distantly from the outside.

My own summer has been a lot busier than I planned, as it is usually the case. There wasn’t much lolling, but I do have new favorite thing: bees. We have started a small apiary for research purposes, and I’ve been spending so much time tending to my hive. Those are Italian bees, beautiful mahogany color, and the honey is slow and golden, and the frames are bending and dripping with it, and wax smells like summer.  I want them to survive the winter comfortably, so I’m not taking any honey. Here I am making sugar syrup for them – this is soon after we added a second layer of frames, and the sugar syrup is supposed to increase their wax production.

This is incidentally my new lab. We have moved into a new building, which has a big ass water molecule in front of it. Of course I had to pose with it:

Otherwise, August weather has been shockingly mild for New Jersey.  Early in the morning it is cool enough for jackets and long sleeves, and this is when I usually walk to my favorite coffee shop to get a latte and possibly sit down for a while, enjoy my coffee and catch up on Facebook and twitter on my phone (I do not write in coffee shops, mostly because I find them noisy and distracting, and also I resent the thought of carrying my laptop for a few miles.) Afetrward, I continue with my walk – usually 3-5 miles, depending on how quickly the sun warms up. And then I drive to work, where the hive buzzes so beautifully, and I feel like reading nothing but poetry and fashion blogs, and September is way too close.

Quick things

1) Yesterday we celebrated our 11th anniversary, and tenth anniversary of Aja cat (who was our first anniversary gift). Cat faaaace!

2) And "Citizen Komarova Finds Love" was reprinted in Apex. I'm very happy about that one, since not many people saw it in its original publication last year.

It's That Time of Year: Fall fashion

It's August and the weather here is horrible and sticky and hot. Meanwhile, stores and designers are rolling out their fall lines. Which is a cruel thing to do, because it makes me miss the cool days of fall – the sort of days that just like good old days exist primarily in people's imagination. In NJ, weather has a bad habit of turning very quickly from sticky-hot into sleety-freezing rain-shivery. With too few cool, crisp days that smell of smoke and apples, and carry sounds for miles, and when the sun is pale yellow and distant through the yellow and red leaves. Ur-fall days: not enough of them. Anyway.

I realized that the majority of my wardrobe is targeted precisely to those days: not cold enough to require thick coats and hats, not too hot to prohibit layering. It seems silly that most of one's clothing is targeted to some rarely achievable ideal, but here I am. Silk vintage blouses to be worn with wool cropped pants and oxfords, and structured jackets or light coats; white button downs and pencil skirts with tights and platforms and drapey cardigans; thin wool suiting dresses and silk scarves. Thankfully, all of that can be modified to suit winter or spring or summer, but the purpose of it is to take a long stroll through the streets covered in yellow leaves and smelling of smoke.

So it's really no wonder that I get so excited about fall collections. This year's seem to be remarkably in tune with how I normally dress: camel, menswear, sharp suits, tweed Chanel-esque jackets, pearls, vintage.
Here're some great shots, mostly from Fashion Gone Rogue. Vogue Nippon's Dress for Success feature is one of my favorites now.

I also love this dress, from Vogue Australia:

Fashion, just like my idea of fall days, capitalizes on the ideal -- not the expected or the achievable, but how we would like things to be. So for me, fall fashion is an epitome of this imagined life. Not that I expect (or even want) to find myself lolling on a balcony in a gorgeous dress that would never wrinkle even after I sit at my desk for hours; but the idealizing is weirdly liberating. It makes it very clear to me what I love in clothing, a pure signal that's not jammed by all the background noise of "but is it flattering?" or "is it age appropriate?"

A complaint I often hear about fashion editorials is that 'these clothes never look good on normal bodies'. To which I have to ask, "What do you mean by GOOD?" If you mean that clothes on me don't look like they do on runway models, you are correct. If you mean that the ONLY acceptable look for clothing is on the runway models, you are wrong. Different doesn't mean worse, and the very notion of 'flattering', built on the idea of conformity, is suspect. If clothes appeal and make you feel great, I say wear them. Even if they don't make you look taller or thinner, and even if the fabric drapes and clings instead of hanging straight down.

So yes, I've been planning my outfits for fall. In case every day from September 1st to November 30th is perfect and crisp and smells like apple cider, and as I walk down the street I'll hear the crackling of wooden baseball bats from a high school field far, far away.

On body acceptance

There was that article on College Candy a couple of days back, called I Remember: My Journey through Fatness, Skinniness, and Healthiness.

The title gives you an idea of what that is all about. So I read it, and there were some painful memories about being a fat kid, and how losing weight didn't really solve any problems, and some other perfectly reasonable stuff. Then, this: "I remember finally getting the long-awaited answer to the question of why I am privileged to live in this world: it's to tell you that you, too, are beautiful." And that really stopped me dead on my tracks.

Because, as one Jezebel commenter eloquently put it, that's bullshit. Some people are not beautiful, and they don't have to be. We're so hung up on the beauty thing that by assuring women (yes, it's usually women) that they are beautiful, that we all are beautiful, we're trying to give them value. And you know what? Ugly people have value too. There are plenty of unattractive women who are still human beings who deserve dignity and respect and being treated as people, not some bullshit reassurance that everyone's hot (which is, again, such nonsense -- the very notion of beauty is evaluative, it is built on comparison, and if everyone is beautiful then no one is.) But this fake reassurance comes easier than actually treating people well.

Now, the article's author talks about her personal struggles, and in her adolescent mind she equated fat with ugliness. IMO, the two are orthogonal to each other -- there are plenty of hot fat people and ugly fat people and ugly thin people and hot thin people; yet, her belief is reflective of the larger, fat-phobic culture. And that is, again, not news; what I do find fascinating however is that every time there's some stupid online argument about fatness or models being too thin or whatever -- there're always some dudes popping up to enlighten the internet on the subject of what they personally find attractive. They really do believe that their approval is necessary -- things they find sexy deserve to exist, the rest can just disappear. It does not occur to them that simply not being an ass to people EVEN IF YOU DON'T FIND THEM ATTRACTIVE is a good place to start. Internet is an interesting laboratory of this solipsistic belief, and many fatosphere writers talked about it. My body is not your business, and it is not necessary to inform me on whether you approve or disapprove of it, whether you find it attractive or gross. Your approval is irrelevant.

And this brings me to my second point, in a roundabout sort of way. The whole my body my business thing encompasses every aspect of corporeal being. And... when someone is trying to lose weight, it's their business too. It's not a betrayal, it's not a sign that they hate themselves, it's not a moral failure. (The implication that if you try to change your body it means you don't like it and filled with self-loathing bugs me.) It's not a capitulation. It's an adult making a decision that they would like their body smaller. You don't have to support this decision, but you don't get a say. My body etc. And yet! Crystal Renn caught a ton of flak lately for looking too thin in some recent (photoshopped, of course) pictures, until it was clarified that no, she was not actually losing weight. There were also many comments on how much hotter she looked at size 10.

And it really bothered me. I have a weird shame thing admitting that I lost weight on purpose – even though I do thoroughly believe that as a legal adult, I'm allowed to do so. And I'm not Crystal Renn, so being in a public eye is certainly not an issue (and that would make it even more uncomfortable.) And yet when people say, “Oh, you lost weight” (which is another strange yet socially acceptable thing to say – it's always meant as a compliment, for one. Like losing weight is always a good thing) I feel uncomfortable and mumble something defensive. Part of this discomfort, I think, is this outside approval – the assumption that I need to hear from other people they validate my body. Another is a concern that I'm somehow failing in the whole size acceptance issue.

After all, the very same people who defended Crystal Renn as a plus-size model expressed their disappointment when the word got out that she lost weight. They cited the fact that she had a history of eating disorders – again, body policing masquerading as concern for someone's health. And I think it is important to recognize that those things are similar – even if yes, there are wide discrepancies in terms of privilege between thin and fat women, the fact that women are encouraged to evaluate each other (while the dudes offer “Oh, she's too skinny/too fat for ME” from the sidelines) is an incredibly insidious tactic of oppression. Body acceptance is only possible if we stop offering unsolicited commentary on each others' bodies.

On Turning Forty

July 9th is my fortieth birthday, and while the number doesn't carry any particular significance to me, apparently there are expectations to face when one turns this age. In particular, lady magazines inform me that my hemline shouldn't stray more than two inches above my knee come tomorrow. Also, there was something about accessories needing punching up (for me it will probably mean graduating to one of those ancient Egyptian collars.) But you know, these are just silly rules.

And yet, there's some significance in opening up another decade. I do feel more content with my life than when I was in my twenties or even early thirties. I am more confident, and happier in my skin. I'm excited to see what the new decade brings. And for now, here're some significant personal milestones of my thirties, because it is important to take stock every ten years or so:

1) Acquired both of our cats, Aja and Attila;
2) got my PhD;
3) started my dream job;
4) decided to start writing (in 2003);
5) since then, published three novels and got the best agent ever;
6) edited two anthologies;
7) got tenure and promotion at the day job;
8) started working out again;
9) completely overhauled my eating habits and started cooking more;
10) got newly interested in fashion;
11) started blogging;
12) enjoyed the support of my husband throughout.

So yes, I'm excited for the next ten years. Who knows? I'm having another novel coming out later this year, then an anthology and another novel in 2011, then a short story collection (and if all goes well, another antho.) I might branch out into personal style blogging too; I certainly want to do more writing about food and posting pictures of my culinary experiments. I want to write more nonfiction.

And while I didn't completely cave in to the lady mags' demands, I did make one age-appropriate and generally ladylike thing: my toenail polish is no longer purple but pearly pink. And I really like it.

People

People-watching by the fountains.