Dress: This is a long-sleeved, back sheath dress with comically large bow across the chest. It seems to say, “Happy Holidays, I, your present, have arrived,” but for the unrelieved black, which suggests that present is probably a grief-stricken soliloquy about yard maintenance in Denmark or that new Nick Cave book. I like a giant bow. Blame it on growing up in the 1980s. Or more specifically blame it on “The Secret of NIMH,” a real mindbender of an animated kid’s film about psychedelic rosebush labyrinths, flirty rats obsessed with fancy elevators, Dom Deluise, and the National Institute of Mental Health which may have traumatized you if you caught it on HBO pre-adolescence. I loved “The Secret of Nimh.” Probably because also like psychedelic rosebush labyrinths and fancy elevators (at least in theory– in practice, I’m a touch claustrophobic). Also, there was a tiny mouse in the movie with a fun 80’s divorcee name like Diane or Cheryl and she wore a giant mint green bow around her waist. It was adorable and on trend for the era, though even then I was like, she looks great but how does it make a lick of sense for this mouse to wear only a giant bow around her waist? And that this is the question that still haunts me and not if there are rats capable of building fancy elevators, why this movie not about the how the Rats of NIMH fix the accessibility problems with the NYC subway system with their fancy elevators goes some distance in illustrating why I organize my stream of consciousness around outfits and not, like, urban design.
Shoes: Dr Marten’s. Platform Chelsea boots. These are unambiguously part of the mid-life crisis collection, purchased back in fall 2021. After lockdown, I decided that I probably had less time than I thought to wear the exact pair of shoes my fifteen year old self wanted more than anything in the world (I don’t even think they existed precisely then, or at least they did not exist in any context I could reach them) and I started collecting as many enormous, elaborate cardigans as possible. I felt like this would bridge the gap between “my high school self who has a lot of feelings about mopey, noisy bands from the British Isles” and “wacky perimenopausal aunt who goes to openings with an extensive collection of suggestive metaphors about art she deploys to embarrass youngsters.” I thought these boots might end up being a special occasion, borderline costume item, but instead I have ended up wearing them almost every day during the cooler months, much to the chagrin of loved ones who likely still think I am trying too hard. Whatever. Nothing is better for making you feel young at heart than wondering if you look like a poser at a client meeting.
Earrings: Once again, Peel. I might have mentioned that I have this exact pair of earrings in two colors. These are the green ones.
Outfit: I wore this to our Office Holiday Event. Several years back we put the office Christmas to a vote and the vast majority of the staff opted for fancy breakfast at the Grove Park Inn (followed by the day off) instead of evening cocktails. I like this arrangement, not just because it offers up the whole high-hatted omelet guys and all deluxe hotel buffet experience, but because the grits at the Blue Ridge Dining Room are no joke, and worthy of the whole trip.
Also, breakfast gives me an excuse to wander around the Grove Park during the holidays. Like much of Asheville, the Grove Park Inn served, for years, as my secondary hang-out/family gathering space. I cannot begin to tell you how many holidays began with wanders past the fireplaces in the lobby, or summers propped on the low stone wall of the back terrace. We went there for Mother’s Day, for Easter Sunday, whenever the relatives were in town, on prom night, just to walk from end to end in our fancy clothes. When the Grove Park was bought by a corporate multinational a few years back, all of that changed. The inn became not just indifferent but antagonistic to locals. We were forced to remember our treasured community clubhouse did not, in fact, belong to our community and had never been our clubhouse. Such is the danger, I guess, of forgetting the difference between public and private. You come to feel that something was stolen from you that you never really had in the first place. It’s an old story, dull and predictable. There’s probably even a “Property is Theft” verse to “Jingle Bells” if you stretch it out far enough. So I’ll suspend the griping But while we’re here, I might as well tell you that it’s not the same up there at the Grove Park as it used to be. The magic just doesn’t work like it used to.
Dress: Eloquii Bow Bodice Mini Dress, 2023
Shoes: Dr Marten 2976, Quad Chelsea, 2022
Earrings: Night Moves, 2022ish
Tiny Commotions 