Thursday, May 28, 2015

Of moths and marbles

Sometimes I want to say things that don't quite hang together; humour me!

First, the pherome moth traps work, trapping the males so they don't breed. When we left the apartment for our recent trip, one lonely SOB had stuck on the trap in Le Duc's clothes closet. By the time we returned, a dozen of the males (who think they have found a hot girl moth) had snuffed it on the sticky cardboard. Give them time; we had the traps in closets for maybe two months before we got this result.

Eeeww!

Le Duc essayed a major closet cleanout, and found a bag of cotton balls had been turned into a nursery. (Yes, moths will lay eggs on cotton; it's not just wool and silk that appeal.) 

I noticed carefully-written copy on some sites that sell this or similar pherome traps, which stated that they "alert you to the problem". (I suppose they cannot say they will kill all the pests.)

We also came back from France loaded...with moth products. I could not find a Kapo supplier in Canada, so I stocked up on this diffuser, designed to kill mature moths and larvae.

Aha!

Listen, this moth thing is big, and they are supremely hard to vanquish; I am still fighting their low-level but stubborn presence. Even my Buddhist friend who will not swat a mosquito has the traps. If you are entrepreneurial, I suggest you start an e-commerce biz that specializes in proven products. Everyone I talk to has a moth story, none are pretty; climate change seems to have enhanced the pests' ubiquity. 

Let's segue to the marbles. 

In reading how to best accessorize my newly-grey hair, I ran across a quote from Betty Halbreich, Berdorf's famed personal shopper, who said, "My grey-haired ladies? I bead 'em up." She's a fan of chunky strands of peridot, coral, amethyst, and of course, pearls. Then Kirsten Giving showed us her luscious pieces. Though not for sale, they danced in my mind.

Last week, I saw my friend Susan, a retired investment banker who now makes jewelry, which she occasionally sells at art fairs and by-invitation shows. (Please e-mail me if you would like to be invited to a fall 2015 show in Montréal.)

She threw a selection of pieces made over her winter in Florida into her tote bag, and I wanted every one of them!

Mmmm!

My newest piece: Big marble-sized Greek porcelain "donkey beads", antique silver buttons, trade beads and assorted bits from her travels. The Greek-flag-blue enlivens a white tee, denim shirt—nearly everything I have.

And a moth will not even be tempted by beads.














Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Second début: Francine Pelletier on feminism's foundering freedoms

Photo: Le Devoir
The forthright journalist and filmmaker Francine Pelletier has released a new book, summarized in an article in Le Devoir.

"Second Début, Cendres et Renaissance du Feminisme" examines two feminine archtypes that have assumed centre stage in these times: the super-sexy and the ultra-covered. 

She notes, "Fashion and porn bring to life the idea that a woman is first a sexual animal. The hypersexualized images are a way of reminding women to fall in line, as are the burka and chador." 


We live with a new Iron Curtain, she suggests, "one side in lingerie and the other covered head to toe." To be reduced to a body, Pelletier says, is way of telling women, "Stay girls, even if you want to act like men." 

A women may assert that she is "affirming her sexuality" and "in control of her body", and claim "I'm liberated and empowered and can do what I want". But Pelletier warns that ready participation in a permissive, "cool", soft-porn culture that tells women they have achieved something by overtly sexy display of their bodies is a con job. 

She questions the energy spent fighting for women's freedom to go shirtless or to appear in little but our filmiest underwear. (She does acknowledge the sensual pleasure of displaying one's charms.)

Such matters divert attention from the gender equality, reproductive rights, and violence against women, among other pressing concerns. (There is a belief that we've beaten the gender equality issue; in Canada and the US, the results are an unimpressive 19% gap.) 

She links the fundamentalist beliefs that fueled the Charlie Hebdo massacres to another slaughter, that of fourteen women at Montréal's École Polytechnic twenty-five years ago; both massacres, she notes, were aimed at obliterating a specific group who were represented change, and who spoke openly. (Pelletier lobbied for public release of the killer's suicide note, which included names of women he wished to target; her name was included.)

She says women's confidence has been shaken, leading to women, such as those allegedly attacked by Jian Ghomeshi, who are terrified to speak out. 

And finally, she reveals her own contradictions, fears and humanity. Recounting her assault within an initially consenting relationship, an incident that she did not report, Francine Pelletier refers to her own "Inner Jello" and calls on every woman to end silent collusion with violence.


(Seconde début is currently available in a French edition.)


Thursday, May 21, 2015

Montréal, May at the Market

Let's pack out shopping bags and head to the market for fiddleheads and early stawberries, some plants for the deck, perhaps a sweet scoop of ice cream.

Of course we're distracted by people-watching. I notice that most women are out of pants; dresses especially rule the sunny day.

A cherry print can't help but say "1940s", especially when piped in red: 



Planting season at last! Her sleeveless dress nudges black and white toward spring:



This is a dress-length abstract-print tunic over footless black tights, but the kicker is her black lace and net bolero. Women here wear this look at any age, and here's to them!



She radiates pleasure; maybe it's the day or the macarons she is considering. Either way, I admire her Mexican blouse and her red frames:



Jean jackets, in colours that reference the season: White with turquoise scarf and tee:



Coral, over a beige to brown palette:



Young women—especially those with beautiful legs—choose sheer little skirts that float with the breeze, but anyone can borrow the freshness of blue-and-white:



I caught you looking at men! And a few did catch my eye. I'm partial to pink:



A happy printed skirt would be fun to wear. She is also about to have her hand kissed, what more could you ask for? That ice cream? Sure!


Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Nicola Sturgeon: Success in scarlet

Any woman who appears before an audience whom she wishes to influence, as women in politics inevitably must, faces the Image Issue. 

The New York Times (paywalled article here) ran a piece recently on Nicola Sturgeon, the newly-elected first minister of Scotland and leader of the Scottish National Party. She is now subjected the style scrutiny faced by not only well-known women like Angela Merkel, Hillary Clinton, Dilma Rousseff and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, but also by every female currently serving in electoral politics.    

The Times article says, "...Ms. Sturgeon... has been upfront about the role that fashion plays in politics. In April, for example, she gave an interview to ITV’s “Tonight” show, in which she said, 'You have to be thinking about what you’re wearing, but you don’t want to be thinking about it at the expense of what you really need to be thinking about.' ".

Exactly. Women politicians tend to find their look and stick to it; once a few fashion-police tomatoes are tossed, how many outfit jibes are left to make?

The articulate Ms. Sturgeon also speaks though her wardrobe. Look at her last year, before the campaign began:



and after her victory:


Red is operatically emphatic, beige murmurs. (She has also lost weight and brightened her hair colour.) 

I'm not suggesting a woman who wishes to be memorable, whether personally or professionally, has only red for her flash card—however, vitality is communicated through colour, and anyone on view for long days can benefit from the boost, which she will not get from beige.

If the solid version seems too intense, think about bouclés and similar fabrics that introduce colour without overpowering. (Because the bright-jacket-black-bottom formula cuts most women at the beam, I rarely admire that "split the difference" outfit.)

The NYT article says her transformation was not the work of image consultants and that she favours dresses from the Edinburgh boutique Totty Rocks. If you've ever wanted adopt the retro charm of Nurse Jenny Lee in "Call the Midwife" or yearn for an Edwardian tweed jacket, Totty Rocks will make your day.




Doesn't she wear red beautifully? Another dress, with an insouciant shoulder detail and tailored sleeve (and believe me, a sleeve like this is hard to find):



In a coral suit with fitted jacket, also from Totty Rocks:


The First Minister of course wears other hues, but she's a leading example of the power of a perfectly-fitted burst of colour, when you want to stand up and be counted.

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Relaxed Real: Abalone's organic allure

Our friend Beth brought me a treasure, found on her recent trip to Mexico, this richly-hued inlaid abalone bangle. 


I'm always touched by travel gifts, from a little ceramic hippo to an art museum postcard; however, Beth's artist's eye makes such gifts especially pleasing. So generous of her to think of me, and tuck this beauty in her bag.

Admiring its organic natural palette, I wondered why I wasn't wearing more of this cousin-of-pearl, given its astonishing range of natural, undyed colour. Abalone is not a product of pearl-creating molluscs. Known in New Zealand and Hawaii as pāua and in the UK as ormer, abalone is the nacreous lining of the shells of gastropods (sea snails), and is primarily found in jewellery made near its native oceans.

Today, I'm dressing the Passage's windows with some abalone pieces that flash iridescence and are especially well-designed. Since sea snails that produce such jewelry are native to their waters, Mexican artisans excel at working with abalone, making both simple and more ornate pieces.

Etsy seller SaltedGems offer a set of two thin bangles for $6, the price of a few coffees. Can't beat that!



The same seller offers a substantial silver-set abalone ring, with an adjustable silver band, which is especially good for gifts should you not know the ring size. A dramatic piece for the price, $50.



I'd guess this silver and abalone vintage necklace is Mexican (the seller, Gary Germer, does not say).



 Detail, one of the links:


I'd definitely spring for it over the many trendy costume necklaces that are frighteningly close to the same price ($235).

Earrings of abalone are light, and the material mixes well with pearls. These dangles, from Luccia, pair freshwaters that complement the abalone's blue and violet flashes. I especially like that the two pearls are complementary but unmatched, a quirky touch. Price, $40.



Abalone looks alluring with spring and summer clothes and travels well, wrapped in a jewelry bag or tucked into socks. The glowing hues whisper of the sea and the shifting, sensual palettes suit any complexion. Care is the same as with pearls: keep chemical products away and wipe after wearing with a soft, dry cloth to remove body oils or dirt.

Today's window also proves that my motto, After 50, Your Jewelry Should be Real, means you need not empty your bank account for serious stones and heaps of high karat gold. The natural world offers abundant beauty through semi-precious stones, shells, and organic materials such as wood and glass. 

We do have to search out stellar pieces that show superior design and solid craftsmanship, but that's the joy of the hunt—which in this case, was undertaken by a friend with an expert eye and generous heart.



Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Ursula K. Le Guin on Aging and Beauty, via "Brain Pickings"

The Passage rarely features re-blogged material, but I'm gladly making an exception today.  

Our visitor to the Passage, thanks to Brain Pickings blog: the graceful and lucid writer Ursula K. Le Guin (who is 85 now), on aging and what beauty really means.

In excerpts selected by Maria Popova, Le Guin offers a quirky exploration of the qualities of dogs and cats, as well as humans.


"For old people, beauty doesn't come free with the hormones, the way it does for the young... It has to do with what the person is. More and more clearly, it has to do with what shines through those gnarly faces and bodies."
- Ursula K. Le Guin


 

Thursday, May 7, 2015

April in Paris: What real women wear

I wasn't looking for the "must-haves" or classics while in Paris, but there they were right under my nose, worn sunny mornings by women who walked to work or ran their errands. 

I am assuming these are not tourists, because of the neighbourhood, time of day, and their assured movement (no maps, no checking street names) but who knows?
 
The scarf: always present, always emphatic:



The trench: Feminine detail is the secret ingredient:



Abundant black, even in high-60sF weather. The woman in the background is as formally-dressed as anyone I saw going to work:



Black and red sweater-coat, a long grey tunic, leggings, heels and the big ecru scarf, lots of jewelry, long grey hair—loved this look:



Given the unseasonably warm, sunny weather, her white jacket looked fresh as the day:



As the day warms, we can see what's under those coats. A marinère dress (stripes are the French woman's pattern), worn with bright red-orange trainers, which are often paired with dresses or skirts.



Shoes of fine metallic leather on awoman (of at least 60), who wore them with a black pencil skirt, off-white blouse and black blazer.




A woman in a classic navy sweater, white jeans and scarf, whom I wanted to show to reassure anyone who worries about what to pack, if you visit. You already have something similar, I'll bet. (Also, she is not a skinny little thing; there are all sizes here, despite what that book says.)



Though all hues of blue comprise the official spring colourway, some women give theirs a spark; I loved her accents: purple scarf and trilby:




And in one of the great crossroads of the world, there is the occasional surprise of someone in national dress, like her exuberant ethnic prints:



What didn't I see? Makeup, at least by day—not even lipstick on many women (and not just youth). 

I became rather obsessed with this lip shift, and eventually spotted a bit of sheer rose and the rare flare of poppy red. Nor did I see the shiny-wet gloss that some North American women favour. When the sun set, colour came out, so those bags and briefcases must be hiding a makeup kit.

Nor did I see multi-colour eye makeup (the sort of effort that rules YouTube makeup videos) in daytime. My post on Isabel Marant was a harbinger. The one time I glanced into a face precisely painted with everything possible was that of an octogenarian in fishnet gloves.

Women of all ages turned their faces to the long-awaited spring—and I hope, applied their sunscreen.