The Perfect Size

Buying clothes for myself has always been a bit of a chore. From the time I hit puberty, my hips and thighs grew curvy, while my waist stayed small so that I needed a size that not many clothes manufacturers accommodated. I'd buy clothes that were too loose around the waist or too tight in the thighs.
One time, while home from college when my weight had really crept up, I remember shopping with my mom at an Elder Beerman store and we went into the women's section. I got a pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. The thought of them still makes me shiver in disgust.
My own experiences make me appreciate having a daughter who looks good in basically everything.
For her birthday last month, I went clothes shopping for her. I planned to buy her a new work outfit (she has to wear black) and a shirt she can wear for new headshots. She's an actress so she needs headshots to take on auditions.
I ended up with about four outfits because I found so many things I thought she'd look good in.
Surprise! I was right.
Before her birthday, she was going out to celebrate with a bunch of friends. I asked her what she planned to wear that night.
"Maybe this," she said, gesturing toward a tan and black dress she was wearing to work. It was cute enough, but it wasn't sexy for dancing in the clubs.
As I was shopping, I had found a sexy, v-back sweater dress. I left it on her bed so she would find it when she got home from work.
She sent me some selfies as she prepared to go out that night.

The back of the sweater dress has a nice V and cut out to add to the sexiness. She had a marvelous, tipsy time with her friends.

On her birthday, I made her try on a few outfits. She's always into sparkle, and I knew she'd love this 20s-style dress even if it might be too fancy for work.

I caught her coming home from work in this striped, knit skirt.
"Horizontal stripes," my husband said, when he saw it.
"It'll be fine on Grace," I assured him. And it was.

At least I can live vicariously through her and her clothing choices.  

Dreaming of France -- People Watching

Please join this weekly meme. Grab a copy of the photo above and link back to An Accidental Blog. Share with the rest of us your passion for France. Did you read a good book set in France? See a movie? Take a photo in France? Have an adventure? Eat a fabulous meal or even just a pastry? Or if you're in France now, go ahead and lord it over the rest of us. We can take it.
Maybe we can all satisfy our yearnings for France, until we get there again.
People in France look so different from people in the United States.
While sitting in a cafe along Rue Mouffetarde, I took a few shots.

I was focusing on people wearing scarves, but as you can see, I also captured a man carrying a baguette along the street, a paper wrapped around it.

This woman does not look like she is getting what she wants out of the day as she and her man do some shopping, but her scarf is a complicated affair guaranteed to keep her neck warm.

 

Men frequently wear scarves in France, but not so much in the U.S., although it's becoming more common. I think some men still consider it too effeminate.

I Want a France Meme

Last week, on Thursday, I tried the "I Love France" meme. Unfortunately, it looks like the blog that used to do that is no longer doing it. Sigh...
I want a weekly France meme, but I don't have any bright ideas. Do you?
What could bloggers write about every week if they love France?
I'd like to include books, movies, photos, stories, food, fashion -- all from France.
I could even make a cool logo for it (or ask a more-talented friend to do it).
I'm waiting for your brilliant suggestions. Meanwhile, here's a photo that Grace took of Mont St. Michel with some sort of special effect. Lovely.

Material Girl

Today, I meant to write the story of an Argentine sailor and an Ohio girl who met at the Louvre in Paris. But, I didn't feel that I could tell you that story unless I could find a picture of myself from that trip to France so you could imagine the whole scene.
I found some pictures but they led me in a totally different direction. They reminded me why I fell in love with France. This first picture should sum it up for you.

This was the view from the balcony of the house where I stayed in Corsica. But before I got to Corsica, I was a 22-year-old working at The Middletown Journal, covering exciting things like school boards and city council. I was dating a photographer named Greg and his sister was married to a Frenchman.
Duh, duh, duh, duh.
That's the set up. They lived near Yale or Harvard or someplace, and they had two little girls, Brigid and Claire. The mother was pregnant with her third child when she started to have difficulties with her pregnancy. The family already had tickets to travel to France in early July. What could they do? They asked me to go along with the girls and the father to Paris. Then the father would return home and I would stay in France with the girls at their grandparents' home until their baby brother was born.
I didn't hesitate. I told my boss I was going whether I had a job when I returned home or not. He talked to me about health insurance and I vaguely hummed "La Vie en Rose" as his words whizzed past. Who cared about jobs and health insurance? I was going to France with an open-ended ticket.
The grandparents had an apartment at the Viroflay RER stop, headed from Paris out toward Versailles. But they weren't there when we arrived. They had gone to their vacation home in Corsica.
Before I get too carried away telling the story of a young Ohioan in Paris with two French-American toddlers, I'd better return to the point of this story. My clothes. This was the mid-1980s and I dressed in skirts, dresses, ankle socks and low heeled shoes.
Look. Here's an example.

See those cute little socks that may be red or pink. Hard to tell but they match my top and the plaid in my skirt.
Okay, the girls are cute too. That's Brigid, 4, on the left and Claire, 3, all the way to the right. On my lap was Isabelle and next to me Agnes. They are the children of the French/Polish couple we visited in April. Now back to the 22-year-old me.
I couldn't find a photo of myself in my favorite dress. It was flowered pinks, blues and purples, and had a wide, round, white collar. That's what I was wearing the day I met the Argentine sailor in the Louvre. I also wore a pair of pink ankle socks that had lace around them. The sailor said, in his smidgen of English, that I couldn't possibly be American because I wasn't wearing tennis shoes and chewing gum.
But, I'm getting pulled into the Argentine sailor story, when I meant to talk about why I loved France and how I dressed like Madonna.
Here's another photo on the balcony where we ate dinner every night in Corsica. I look a little fuzzy in this picture, but you can see my white fishnet ankle socks. You can't see my shoes, which are the same color blue as my top.

If they'd had the phrase then, I would have thought I was "all that."
My suitcase was so full of outfits that I probably didn't even get around to wearing them all in the three months that I was there.
Who was that girl, I wonder. That very confident, very flamboyant girl who would only wear shoes that matched the outfit. Now, I shuffle through the snow in my Crocs.
When I first arrived in France, although I had minored in French in college, I couldn't understand very much of what was said. The French family spoke freely in front of me -- about me.
I remember one night at dinner, one of the guests said that it was obvious I loved French food.
They thought I was chunky.
"Oh, no. She came that way," the family assured the guest, letting the guest know that I hadn't been fattened on French food but American food.
I don't remember being insulted, just shrugging it off.
I felt satisfied with myself. Maybe that's why the country spoke to me so much, because I liked who I was at that very moment.
When I visit France now, I think I'm much more aware of trying to do "the proper thing." On that trip though, I was the authentic me -- a Material Girl.

Pony Tail Holders

Just to get rid of the photo of the asparagus that creeps out Dream Girl, I'll write my yearly fashion column.
Have you seen these new pony tail holders?

Grace brought one home from a swim meet. She always pulls her hair in a ponytail before she puts on her cap, but she frequently doesn't have a ponytail holder. She borrowed this one from Leah, and I love it. It's my current favorite.
It looks like tie dye, don't ya think?
I found some similar ones at the store and bought them.

They're very mod, and the colors are fab, but I still like the white and peach one better.
How can they come up with new, improved ponytail holders. They've been around for years.
Have you found a little thing, like a change in ponytail holders, that makes you think, why didn't they do that before?

More Fashion Tips From the French

Scarves and the French go together like peanut butter and jelly, like caviar and champagne. This year, scarves have had an upsurge in the US too. And how many people turn to Youtube in search of different ways to wear their scarves? That's why I tried to find pictures of women wearing their scarves in various ways, as an example to you, my readers.
A loose wrap around the neck is one of the most popular scarf looks. Not too tight around the neck though. The tighter the scarf, the more repressed and high strung you'll seem (that part is my interpretation of it).
Another common scarf tie is the double over and pull it through. Women in the US have caught onto this one and you see see it everywhere now. The pull through again can be loose or tight. It can also be male or female. I know, I know, the whole men wearing scarves things seems so French, but I've seen some guys wearing them on the college campus where I teach, so it could happen.
Men seem to limit themselves to the two basic scarf ties -- either the loop around the neck or the double and pull through. I didn't see any men with elaborate scarf tyings.
Past the common tyings, things get a little more elaborate. The most I can tell you is that there's a lot of looping and knotting.

I'd see women check themselves in the reflection of windows and stop to tie one more knot in the scarf. Apparently, the knotting can continue indefinitely.
A small silk scarf can work too. Just slim it into a long band and wrap then knot. Spend a few minutes smoothing those ends so that they flare out to add some bulk.

The scarf can be used as a simple tool to stay warm. Then it has to be spread out and draped across the upper body and shoulders before a jaunty flip over the shoulder.

I also liked this draped look, where the ends of the scarf are not visible from the front. I think this might be harder to pull off if you actually have to move rather than sit still.
For men who don't think they have the... well, the nerve to pull off a man scarf, the French have a few other fashion options.
There is the ubiquitous sweater tied around the shoulders. See it everywhere. Everywhere.
In the US, it has a kind of preppy look to it, so don't combine it with sagging jeans, for instance. I don't think those two looks go together. But combine it with a Ralph Lauren polo or a dress shirt without a tie and you should be fine.
The most daring, most French look of all for men is the beret. So go ahead and give it a try. Maybe if you don't say anything, they'll think you're actually French. At least to me, that would be a good thing.

Fashion News

Since I am in the fashion capital of the world, I have some sad fashion news to impart.
Apparently, harem pants are making a comeback.
I know! I know what you are thinking: But harem pants don't look good on anyone. Chubby girls wear them thinking they'll cover the excess bootie and thigh, but that never works. I agree, yet, what are you going to do when the evidence smacks you in the face over and over again?

I tried to explain to Earl the benefit for shorter women like me. They are tight at the ankle so you don't have to hem them, but then they can balloon down over your shoes and still look too long.
The tiny girls in these pictures who are wearing harem pants are going to be adorable no matter what they wear. It's just one of those things, but what about the larger women who opt for harem pants? And not just harem but many-layered harem pants? Is there any hope for her?
I think it just might be best if those of us over 40 and over 110 pounds opted out of this specific fashion. We had our chance in the 1980s and I'm betting most of us embraced the harem pants then.
The thing is, if we aren't going to wear the harem bra shirt and the veils, ala I Dream of Jeannie, the harem pants are not going to be sexy. And for some of us, even that won't work.