International Women’s Day

Saturday, March 7, 2009

My Twelve Year Milestone

On International Women’s Day I happen to be thinking of my own journey in motherhood.  My daughter turned twelve this weekend.  Each year as we celebrate her birthday, I also remember other mothers who are marking another year of parenthood.  Motherhood certainly isn’t the only way for women to make a difference in the world.  It’s been the most profound one for me. 

Here’s a favorite photo of my daughter, H., on Ruby Beach in  Washington State, taken last summer.  We arrived there on a rainy, chilly, day, but had much fun chasing the surf in bare feet.  I love this picture because H. is the only real color on the beach, and her feet are skipping over the surface.  (The beach is named Ruby because it’s said the sand has a reddish cast to it.  Do you see it?  I don’t.) 

(photo by D.L. Smith, Jr.)

This next photo shows what we saw the night H. was born as we drove to the birthing center in Fairbanks, Alaska, where we were living at the time.  Remember Comet Hale-Bopp?  It was out in full force that night, along with the northern lights. 

I didn’t make it all the way through labor without medication, but ended up giving birth at the hospital at the Army base in Fairbanks.  I’d been hoping to avoid going there.  The room was stark.  The staff were all wearing fatigues.  But they were wonderfully professional and kind, and helped me through a tough labor without a C-section.  There were three giant pine trees out the window that I could see and that seemed like friendly spirits there for support. 

Very soon, I came to understand what my grandmother meant when she told me that soon I’d wonder how I could ever live without the baby. 

Sending gratitude to all women who mother—whether they have birthed biological children, good works, or simply dreams.  

Restored: Elements of Design: The Line of Beauty

We can use the elements of design to help us dress in real, authentic ways. As women we possess two aesthetically pleasing lines. One is the vertical line. The other is the “line of beauty."

Vertical lines look good. We’re often told they're the most flattering in clothes. They’re “slimming;” they make us “look thin." Growing up, most of us absorbed messages about being thin. I do not wish to appear "fat," but the pressure to appear thin is damaging, and I don't want to feed it.

We can give ourselves different messages that achieve the same thing but don't feed a compulsion for thinness. Vertical lines appeal to the eye because we are vertical. In art, vertical lines invoke action, strength, even spirituality. Horizontal lines invoke stasis and passivity. If my overall visual image is vertical, I will convey aliveness.

Women also have a unique line that never goes away. The 18th century painter William Hogarth identified a “line of beauty” (above) critical to visual aesthetics. This line, or its parts, are found all over nature: hillsides, waves, leaves. In humans, the female form captures it more than the male form. Artists and designers still use this ideal.

Hogarth didn't say only young, skinny women have lines of beauty. You could say it's our inherent feminine line. The problem (for me) is that the media translates this into notions of "hot" and "sexy," as defined by much younger women.

I want to look my best, but I don't want to take my cues from the media. I'd rather trust historical standards of beauty. The concepts of vertical line and the womanly "line of beauty" are two aesthetic standards I'm never going to lose, no matter what my age. I like that.

On a practical level, I believe these ideas mean we can dress with integrity by aiming for the vertical line, and by choosing clothes that fit our feminine lines. There's an art to this, but we have a lot of guidance. You can see some ideas at my other post on line, here.

My Two-Dollar Red Pashmina

I picked up a red pashmina today for two dollars at a thrift store. It's 70% pashmina, 30% silk, made in India. That's 1.42 GBP, 2.57 Canadian dollars, or 3.11 AUD.

Now, what about that color? And really...do I need a pashmina?

In January I posted a story about colors that look good on everyone--quoting the Pantone Color Institute in a Real Simple article. The red of my new pashmina is one of those colors.

Imogen Lamport, of the wonderful blog Inside Out Style, has doubts about this shade being good for everyone. I tend to agree--not because I know about other people, but because I've basically given up wearing red. The few red pieces I've owned in my life have always stayed in my closet.

And there's this. Word on the Web is that pashminas are passe. Passe-minas. Or no: they were out, but now they're back. Is that right?

Then there's the fact that I don't know how to wear a pashmina. Seems like one tosses it casually over an evening dress. This is how many times I've worn an evening dress in the last five years: 0.

Regardless of all that, I couldn't pass up this deal. Even though pashminas are cheaper than they used to be and I suspect the one I got is on the cheap end, there's just something about a pashmina that my small town heart can't resist. I imagine something like this: It's a dark night and a cab awaits. I am wearing my little black dress. I say breezily to my handsome escort as I touch my perfumed hand to his wrist, "Attends un peu, cheri. I must fetch my red pashmina."