Fall Fashion Finds for the Suburbanista
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I love clothes. I love looking at beautiful clothes, trying on clothes, and, most of all, I love wearing clothes. Which is a good thing, I think. Wearing clothes. Every day. But here’s the funny thing: when I stopped working fulltime five years ago in order to write from home, my wardrobe took a big hit. Suddenly, it didn’t make sense to buy several pairs of nice Theory pants every year or two. Blazers just hung around my closet, bored, talking to the Blahnik boots that were yawning on the floor. Overnight, I found that I had absolutely no need to go into stores like Ann Taylor and Banana Republic, my teaching-wardrobe superstores. I used to know the names of their pants, the mid-rise Martin, the higher-waisted Jackson, but now I could care less. I didn’t even wave to them when I walked by their windows. Pants? Who writes at home over their garage in wool/polyester/spandex blend pants? Who walks the dog in trousers and kitten heels, unless they are going off to a workplace right afterwards? Not that I have a dog. But if I did, I’d be walking that furball while wearing jeans or sweats.
My life’s daily rhythms had shifted into a quieter mode and now my wardrobe needed to chillax as well.
Although I was excited to have the excuse to shop for new items, I was concerned that it wouldn’t be as much fun to dress up to go nowhere as it was to go to work.
How could I hold on to a sense of style while looking appropriate for the occasion? And what if that occasion was serving pizza lunch at my children’s elementary school? Or having coffee with a friend in Greenwich?
I found myself buying jeans. Lots of jeans. Skinny jeans, colored demin, and J Brand cargos. I bought flowy tops and sweaters in solid colors that were easy to wear and didn’t require a lot of thinking, as mornings were now about packing lunches and going to PTA events. As I was transitioning into a more casual look, I didn’t want to lose my flair, that sense of fun, just because I had nowhere to really be. I knew that I was a suburban Mommy, of course, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t go out dressed like the best suburban Mommy and freelance writer possible.
But there’s a fine line between having fun with fashion in the suburbs and dressing appropriately. We all know at least one woman who seems too fancy for her everyday life, and I didn’t ever want to be pegged as Way Overdressed Mommy. Or worse, Who Does She Think She Is? Mommy. Yikes. We also know the ones who, in their love of dressing hip and young, end up looking too much like their teenaged daughters. Let’s call these ladies Sweet Sixteen Mommies.
How is it possible to have fun with fashion at forty (two)? And, what are some great fall fashion finds that could instantly update my/your/our collective wardrobes? These are the questions I asked stylist and fashion blogger extraordinaire, Stephanie Unter, also known as the Fashion Hunter.
Where many of us may have adopted a particular look or basic uniform that we feel comfortable in, Steph is a fashion chameleon, wearing pigtails one day and a hat the next. “I’ll put on red lipstick just to feel different. I see fashion as exploration. I’ll wake up and think about what that day is going to be about. I want to project a little bit of who I am in what I wear.” Where most of us see fashion in a somewhat practical way, she views fashion as theater.
So, I needed to know: how much emphasis does Steph put into the trends? “Trends are not the bible. I don’t buy into every trend. I’m obsessed with fashion, but comfort, wearability, and sustainability – can I wear it again – are close seconds.”
So, while she reports on high fashion and street style daily through her blog, she says that, “I need to figure it out for myself, both budget-wise and for my body, because I’m petite and not all trends are going to look good on me.”
Here is Steph’s must-have, how-to list for Fall:
1. Perk up your wardrobe instantly with a pair of statement boots. Check out these perfect Isabel Marant ones.
2. Cropped trousers are in, which work nicely with those statement boots, since the shorter pant draws attention to your ankle, “and the boot pops out” because it’s not being hidden under long pants.
3. Add a statement necklace to any simple outfit and boom, you’re glam. Try Danijo, Erikson Beamon, or Pono jewelry.
4. Interested in trying out a trend? Do it smart. “I love Zara and Asos for knockoffs. They copy D&G and Prada prints. Getting into runway looks? Go for the cheap!”
5. Want to tell the world a little bit about yourself without uttering a word? Let your t-shirt do it for you. “Graphic T’s are huge!” Steph says. Anything you believe in or any place you love – say it on a basic t under something fantastic,” like a gorgeous blazer or jacket. “I love mixing high and low.”
6. At most, incorporate two trends at any one time, and make it subtle. “If you want to try the brocade look, do it with a bag or a pin. Into oxblood? Put it on your nails.” You don’t have to wear it all over. “If you appreciate the color, wear it however you want it.”
7. “In terms of colorways, I’m also seeing greens, navy with black, and winter whites. Also, metallic pants in gold and silver.”
8. What else is hot? Jean shirts, leather everything, and pencil skirts. And biker jackets “are always a fall staple; they never really left.” Also, continuing from last season into this one and spring are the use of lace and peplums.
Ultimately, Steph takes “a lot of inspiration from street style, from movies, and from what’s happening in magazines.” Also, “I love seeing the transition from season to season,” she says, noting the way the buttery soft leather with beautifully cut-out patterns continues into spring in pastel hues.
Not everyone is as into fashion as Steph is, whose work in the industry brings her incredible joy. “I love to see who is following me on my blog,” she says. “That’s my way of getting high. Fashion is fun and funny, fast and furious. It keeps me going, keeps me alive and on my toes.” Check her out at newyorkfashionhunter.com.
Now, stop reading this and get shopping, people! We have trends to tackle and fashion to flaunt!
Columnist and blogger Julie Gerstenblatt writes with humor and candor about her life in Scarsdale, her friends and family, and the particular demands of motherhood and wifedom in modern-day suburbia. She recently published her first novel, Lauren Takes Leave.
Bootie Call
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Last year, I stalked and then purchased what I thought was the perfect pair of booties. They were black leather with a stacked wooden chunky heel and I believed they’d go with everything. Alas, after one or two outings in my new booties - which I will not name here explicitly but the brand rhymes with “Bag and Stone” - I realized that I couldn’t walk in them. I actually brought them back to Bergdorf’s, retuning worn merchandise. I never do that, but these booties made me upset. They failed to deliver on their promise, and so I had to radically break up with them in a public place.
I boldly rode the escalator to the fifth floor shoe department and declared, loud enough so people could hear me, “Listen, I wore these, several times. I’m not gonna lie. But I can’t stand them, so please please won’t you take them back?” I definitely got the hairy eyeball and the once over from the salesman, but he looked at the shoes, picked up the black store phone, and punched in some secret code. Next he mumbled something to someone on the other end of the line, but I held my head high. Before you could say bibbity bobbety boo, I had a gift-carded refund.
Logic would tell you that I used that money to buy a new pair of booties, but there is no logic when it comes to shopping. Plus, it was Black 
Friday, and on Black Friday, you go for the deals on beautiful things that call out your name, not the things you may actually need. Also, there are no deals to be had on booties at the end of November because all the smart, fashion-forward-thinking women purchase the cutest booties in September. *
(*Except for the Extremists who buy them in August. Trust me: I know some of these ladies.)
So I bought a coat.
Now, here I am, a year later, stressing out (mildly, people, not like really) over booties. I want to get it right.
But what is “right” when it comes to short boots? Does anyone really know? And, can one pair of boots really do it all? I need a pair of boots that can look hip but classic, casual yet dressed up when I need them to be. They need to be able to go from the suburbs to the city, and to be able to handle long walks. Although I wouldn’t wear them in extreme conditions, they need to be tough enough to handle some weather. Like if it starts to rain as I’m walking to Grand Central, I can’t have my boots freaking out about it and getting all whiny.
Oh, and I’d like them to have a little bit of a heel so that I can feel taller and slimmer when I wear them.
Isn’t that a lot of pressure to put on a single pair of boots?
Which is why I have now in my possession 6 different pairs of booties.
You are my 911. Please help! This is my bootie call.
Truth is, I’ve actually pretty much made up my mind, but which ones do you like? And, what kind of boots are you looking for this fall season? Short, tall, mid? Ones with hardware and studs, or straps? Lace-up, wedge? The choices are limitless. And, with so many reasonably-priced options copying the trends, and so many sale days to take advantage of, I can be sure to feel good in whatever I’ve bought. And so can you.
(Hint: I’ve picked two.)
Columnist and blogger Julie Gerstenblatt writes with humor and candor about her life in Scarsdale, her friends and family, and the particular demands of motherhood and wifedom in modern-day suburbia. She recently published her first novel, Lauren Takes Leave.
HoHo Heist
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We got an email from a reader with a sweet tooth to tip us off to some sticky business at the bakery. She had recently stopped in to Enrico’s Bakery in Hartsdale, and much to her surprise found several shelves of goodies that looked exactly like her favorite treats from Lulu’s Bakery on Garth Road. She noticed twinkies, ring dings, snowballs, hohos and red velvet cupcakes that appeared to be re-creations of Lulu’s recipes.
She asked the woman behind the counter what was up and the woman looked askance. Determined to find out what had happened she drove over to Lulu’s and asked a few questions. Turns out that a baker who worked briefly at Lulu’s may have gone there undercover to learn Lulu’s signature recipes and "take the cake" back to Enrico’s.The baker who was employed at Lulu's for about two months is now back in the kitchen at Enrico's.
Intrigued, we decided to visit the two bakeries to see what we could learn – and sure enough,
Below are photos of vanilla, lemon, chocolate and red velvet twinkies from both bakeries. Which taste better you may ask? Lulu’s claims to use higher quality ingredients, and in my opinion you can taste the difference. But go to the two bakeries, try them yourself and let us know which you prefer!
(Pictured at top: Hohos at Enricos)
Like a Tornado: Or, Madonna’s Recent Concert
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My cell phone rang at 4:00 pm on Saturday, September 8 while my family and I were eating a weirdly-timed meal at Harry’s Burritos in Larchmont. From the caller ID, I knew that it was my good friend, Laura. “Hey,” I said, answering the phone. “What’s up?”
“I know this is last-minute, but I have two extra tickets tonight to the Madonna concert. Can you and Brett join me and Neil?”
My first thought was, Ohmigod, Madonna!
My second thought was, we don’t have a babysitter!
My third was, isn’t there a tornado warning in effect tonight?
“It starts at 8:00 but I heard she doesn’t go on until 10. We have seats down front, on the floor. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
I quickly parlayed the info to Brett.
“Where’s the concert?” he asked.
“Yankee Stadium, I think,” I said, confirming this with Laura. She said that the concert was indeed outdoors at Yankee Stadium, and that, should it be cancelled and rescheduled due to bad weather, we were no longer invited for the rain date. Her friend’s husband was sick tonight, but would most likely be better soon. “I’m just saying,” she said. “Tonight only.” She paused for dramatic effect. “And I need to know like now or I’m inviting someone else.”
“Give me thirty minutes,” I said, disconnecting and speed texting a babysitter.
While waiting for the babysitter to text back, we paid the bill at Harry’s and walked around town a bit, stopping for ice cream at Longford’s for a weirdly-timed dessert. I texted my friend Kate, who had attended the concert two nights earlier and had given me a brief - and decidedly lukewarm - report. Was the concert really bad, or just eh? The question I had for Kate was this: is it worth going through all the trouble of finding last-minute child care, washing my hair, putting on something stylish yet rain-proof, and staying up past midnight for this concert?
I needed to know how far I should go in the name of Madge.
In 1985, I was willing to do just about anything for Madonna, scalping tickets on the street for $50 each just to have a glimpse of her from the nosebleed section of her Virgin Tour. (Get it? It wasn’t just the name of her 1984 album; we were her first concert tour.) When invited at the last minute by two cute high school seniors (seniors!), my friend Jackie and I quickly readied ourselves, putting on our best fingerless lace gloves and moussing up our hair. We made sure our sweatshirts were cut across the neckline and that our eyeliner – fresh from the freezer – was thick and black. After making sure we each had thirty or so bracelets up our arms – both the black gummy variety and some rhinestone stunners -- we bounded out of my house and into Hottie Senior Number One’s car.
I was in the ninth grade.
The Beastie Boys opened for Madonna that night – I had no idea who they were, and thought they kinda sucked – and so Jackie and I spend most of that first 30 minutes shopping the vendors for the perfect t-shirt souvenir.
What happened next was pure magic. According to Wikipedia, that night, Madonna sang “Dress You Up,” “Into the Groove,” “Everybody,” “Angel,” “Borderline”, “Lucky Star” AND “Crazy for You.” She also sang “Burning Up” and, in her finale dressed as a bride, performed “Like a Virgin” and “Material Girl.” It was a legendary concert – a greatest hits performance before we knew it - and I was there.
Flash-forward to the present. I couldn’t just put on my fingerless lace gloves and head to the city because Madonna was waiting for me. I had responsibilities. I had two children who had never heard of Madonna. I had stormy weather to worry about. I had a little indigestion from that burrito. And I had a bedtime of 10 pm.
4:27 pm. “Sorry, I can’t 2 nite,” came the text from my babysitter.
I thought of texting another babysitter, and then maybe another. I thought of reaching out to friends and hitting up their babysitters. Then I received a text from Kate, which read, “Honestly, it was just okay…she didn’t come on until 10:45…Nice to be out with your hubby regardless…lmk.”
I looked over at Brett, who was now finishing off Zoe’s ice cream. Is it really always that nice to be out with him on a Saturday night regardless of the reason? Isn’t it sometimes better to be in pajamas watching HGTV’s Canadian remodeling design show, Sarah’s House? And, what is Madonna thinking, starting her concert at 10:45? Both she and I have wrinkles now, for goodness sakes. (She hides hers, but they must be there, right?) Although, she can still rock a leather bodysuit, which is kind of annoying, and simultaneously awesome.
I texted Laura and told her my decision: we were skipping the concert. She’d have to invite someone else.
I used to love Madonna. But I am not in love with Madonna anymore. I still adore the vintage Madge, the one who sang songs that mattered to me. The one who didn’t call herself “Madge.” That Madonna shaped the way I dressed and gave me quasi-deep things to think about through her platform as a pop culture icon. Sex. Religion. Abortion. Fashion. Dance. Romance.
But for me, to quote Take a Bow, “the show is over, say goodbye.” I felt lame by not going that night, and, as I watched the rain fall, I also felt perfectly comfortable with my decision. I mean, it’s not like I’d never seen Madonna in concert. It’s more like, can anything ever really top your first (and perhaps, only) time with her?
I went home and put on my PJs and snuggled with my husband in front of the TV. Then I read an email from another friend who attended the Thursday concert.
“BTW - Madonna concert was great,” she wrote. “As theatrical, sexy, crazy as ever. And she looks fab! Her surgeon should be commended. Some small slow parts, but whatever – I’m a HUGE Madge fan so it’s all good for me.”
Did I feel a pang of regret when I read that email while sitting in my suburban living room? Perhaps a little bit.
But at least I had my once-in-a-lifetime with Madonna in 1985, which sometimes really feels like a lifetime ago. And, call me crazy, but that’s honestly good enough for me.
(Pictured at top: Me as Madonna from 1985 in 2010)Columnist and blogger Julie Gerstenblatt writes with humor and candor about her life in Scarsdale, her friends and family, and the particular demands of motherhood and wifedom in modern-day suburbia. She recently published her first novel, Lauren Takes Leave.
50 Shades of Grey: The Magazine?!
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As with any epidemic, there’s a tipping point and a saturation point. And then there’s 50 shades of annoying. Yes, it’s true. There is now a theme-based magazine called “50 Shades of American Women Who Love the Book and Live the Life.” I saw it in Barnes and Noble, next to a magazine celebrating all things Hobbit.
And then, shamefully, I bought it.
“Don’t judge me,” I told the young man at the register. Behind him stood a bookcase filled with paperback copies of the 50 Shades trilogy.
He looked at the magazine and chuckled. “Are you kidding me? This stuff sells.”
Only after I paid did I realize his misunderstanding, taking me for a middle-aged woman in suburbia who turns all 50 shades of orgasmic any time someone mentions Charlie Tango. What I felt was not shame in my purchase for sexual reasons, but deep lameness in myself, an embarrassment akin to being caught singing along to Air Supply in my SUV while picking something green out of my teeth.
I’m all out of love/I’m so lost without you/got the green thing!/I know you were right, believing for so long….lalalalala….
As I walked through the parking lot, I rationalized my purchase, bigtime. Why did I pay 6 bucks for this stupid thing? It’s because I am a journalista. It is my duty to read this entire magazine and report about it on Scarsdale10583, just as I brought “Mommy Porn” to you in January, after reading the first 50 Shades novel.
And, of course, I’m curious. I know a zillion American women are reading the novel, but who are all these American women that, according to publisher Topix Media Lab, are “living the life?” And, what exactly, does that mean? Are they driving around as passenger-of-choice in an Audi R8 Spyder, drinking Bollinger’s Grande Annee Rose for breakfast, or wearing Ben Wa balls to PTA charity luncheons?
Is it true that many mom-n-pop hardware stores are running low on rope?
These are the hard-hitting questions I was hoping this magazine would answer.
So I devoured it from cover to cover.
And now I can tell you to buy it, so that you, too, can release your inner goddess with 80 pages of jump-starting sex secrets! Also, follow the recipes for Christian-inspired cocktails and meet the Sex Whisperer, who used her body to “fix broken men like Christian Grey!”
This magazine is like Cosmo with fewer articles about sex.
As I read it, I felt concerned. Is there really a sexual revolution going on out there, due to the 50 Shades phenom? Because I’m just not feeling it.
My friends and I read the books and enjoyed them and experienced a momentary spike in our marital sex-lives (“for like a week,” as my friend Kate said, rolling her eyes) and then we got bored with that whole thing, bored with the commercialization of the franchise and/or with having more sex with our husbands, and so we moved back into more literary novels with less sex in them and also into having less actual sex. I know, it’s sacrilegious to admit that, so burn me at the stake. (But make the fire just enough so I can feel the flames touch my loins, Christian.)
A glossy page declared this an American Revolution, because, “for the first time in a long time, American women are confidently talking about sex.” But, are these women really talking about their intimate sex lives…or are they talking about 50 Shades of Grey? Because there is a big difference. I peered over the magazine and out my window to the street below, almost expecting to see women in tri-cornered hats, with epaulets on their lingerie, holding riding crops above their heads as they marched forward into the next battle in the red room of pain.
Okay, okay. As much as I joke about the impact of the books on our culture, I learned that Fun Factory, a German company, experienced a 350% increase in sales for their Smart Balls, which are similar to the beads used in the novels. That kind of economic growth, my friends, cannot be overlooked.
Here’s what else I learned from the 50 Shades magazine:
1. 93% of people surveyed said they wanted a spanking now.
2. I am embarrassed for America.
3. EL James is working on a fourth book in the series.
4. Bret Easton Ellis has tweeted about 50 Shades of Grey over 50 times, as he vies for the honor of writing the screenplay version of the books.
5. I am embarrassed for Bret Easton Ellis.
6. Women in a Mormon feminist book club read it and discussed it. That was actually interesting.
7. 82% of fireman interviewed (yes, you read that right, fireman) said that would have a drink with Christian Grey. I have no idea what that means.
8. I can have an ass like Anastasia’s if I do squats with 16-pound kettle bells.
9. A first edition of Tess of the D’Urbervilles costs $14,000.
10. E L James can now buy all of the remaining copies of that book without putting a dent in her bank account.
11. You can have “vanilla sex” by applying Kiehl’s vanilla-scented lip balm before kissing your mate. Only $9!
12. On a quiz entitled “Which Shade of Grey are You?” I scored a solid 40 points, putting me in the “Steel” category. This means I’ll occasionally flirt with the dark side but I would only tell my closest friends. Shhh.
13. Lastly, I learned that 73% of those same firemen said that reading 50 Shades of Grey had not “spiced up” their sex lives. Poor guys. You would think, with all that access to hoses and poles, they’d be on to something good.
As I closed the magazine, I pictured the future direction this 50 Shades fad might take. Like Harry Potter before, first comes the book, then the movie, then the merchandising, and, ultimately, the Universal Studios experience.
Forget 50 Shades: the Magazine. Bring on 50 Shades: the Ride.Columnist and blogger Julie Gerstenblatt writes with humor and candor about her life in Scarsdale, her friends and family, and the particular demands of motherhood and wifedom in modern-day suburbia. She recently published her first novel, Lauren Takes Leave.
