What? What’s that you say? You are already at peace with maxis? Or, wait. You hate this silhouette with every fiber of your being and have no intention of reconciling? Well, as always, you are the author of your own stylistic destiny. But in case you’re curious about my thoughts on diplomatic overtures to floor-sweeping skirts, read on.
I was born in 1977, so I have no preconceptions of maxis. I believe I thrifted one for myself back in middle school while I was neck-deep in my Arthurian legend phase and wore it despite its incongruity among the low-slung jeans and prep-wear of my peers. It felt good on my legs, I liked how it moved, and I didn’t much care if it was stylish or not. I saw plenty of my college cohorts in patchwork maxis and long, tiered, crushed velvet skirts in the mid-90s, too, and thought nothing of it. Wasn’t my speed at the time, but I still understood the appeal. It wasn’t until I began consuming fashion-related magazines, blogs, and other media that I became aware that this piece of clothing is incredibly polarizing. And, even now, the comment I get most when I wear my own maxis is, essentially, “That looks great on you, but I could never pull it off.”
Originally posted 2012-03-15 06:12:34.
I’d wager that 90% of my fancy-pants designer stuff was bought used or on DEEP discount. And although I re-sell some items once I feel I’ve moved beyond them (or admitted to myself that they were mistakes), I’m perfectly comfortable altering just about anything I own without regard to how it will affect resale value. Or perceived value. Or cachet.
Here’s a very concrete example:
Long ago, I bought this Botkier bag on eBay and I got a good deal, but it was still relatively spendy. The eBay seller photos made it look dark pink, almost magenta, which was just what I was looking for. So imagine my surprise when it arrived at my doorstep looking for all the world like it’d been marinating in Pepto Bismol.
Originally posted 2011-12-13 06:16:31.
I’ve written several times and at great length about my fears of androgynous dressing, but I believe I’ve made great strides in the past few years. In fact, my entire style has shifted toward more tomboyish, androgynous looks in some ways, though there are still links to my old style which relied on heels and full skirts. Making the switch from one style to the other pushed me pretty far outside my sartorial comfort zone for a long time.
Some people are perfectly happy to locate their zone, create a wardrobe that works within that zone, and dress impeccably within its parameters. Not a thing wrong with that … until you get bored, or feel stagnant, or just want to explore. It’s all down to your preferences and choices. So if you’re currently feeling a bit stylistically restless but unsure how to reach beyond your established looks into more challenging ones, here are a few ways to test the waters:
Originally posted 2012-01-26 06:15:56.