The English author James Laver wrote things I’ve never heard of: the novel-turned- musical Nymph Errant (1933) and poems like A Stitch In Time and Love’s Progress. When he wasn’t writing fiction, Laver was a curator at the Victoria & Albert Museum who supplemented his income by writing magazine articles among other things.

It was his work as a fashion historian that brought him to my attention. Evidently, his background as an art curator made him a fanatic about accurately dating fashion images. And that’s how, in 1937, he came to co-host a TV program called Clothes Line, the first ever to cover fashion history. That same year, he published this composite of the entire fashion cycle:

Laver’s Law
Indecent – 10 years before its time
Shameless – 5 years before its time
Daring – 1 year before its time
Smart – current fashion
Dowdy – 1 year after its time
Hideous – 10 years after its time
Ridiculous – 20 years after its time
Amusing – 30 years after its time
Quaint – 50 years after its time
Charming – 70 years after its time
Romantic – 100 years after its time
Beautiful – 150 years after its time

Where would vintage fashion fit in Laver’s Law?

Has there ever been a time such as now, where we can style ourselves in vintage clothes and still hit Laver’s sweet spot––Smart? Here’s the conundrum: history has to become old before we can long to revisit it! Could we be the first generation to dig out our grandmother’s dresses and make them seem chic again?

In Laver’s Amusing category, check out this sketch for an L. Strauss ad, which appeared in the Indianapolis Star in 1974. Fashionistas, in those days, clothing ads were nothing like today’s four-color sale bills. Newspaper printing presses were still sort of primitive by today’s standards and many stores relied on sketches like this to show their wares.

When I found this ad in a Lafayette, Indiana antique shop, I time-traveled back to my freshman year of college. In my printing technology class, I learned to set type using letterpress type and Linotype machines—the predecessors to offset lithography printing and computerized typesetting. Yes, I’m that old!

Two fabulous fashion illustrators

Vintage clothes and vinyl records have made a strong comeback. But unless you count the occasional J. Peterman catalog, fashion illustrations haven’t been used to sell clothes since the late 1970s.

If you want to see some really great fashion illustrations, check out the work of: 1) my friend Jan Graham-McMillen at Fort Smith Stylista and 2) my wannabe friend Anne Bray at SpyGirl. Both are extremely talented artists and writers!

Where have all the fashion illustrators gone? And what are they doing now? Who is your favorite fashion illustrator/blogger?

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.

You could almost think about managing your wardrobe like making chili: you probably have a recipe and anything outside of that isn’t really chili; it’s an imposter. In Shocked: My Mother, Schiaparelli, and Me, Patricia Volk reveals her mother’s philosophy for looking crisp and fashionable at all times: every woman should have 24 padded hangers. Each one should hold a piece of clothing that a) she absolutely loves and b) looks fabulous on her.

In her new memoir, Volk contrasts her mother’s conservative attitude toward clothes to the galactically adventurous Italian designer Elsa Schiaparelli. Audrey Volk thought clothes should flatter the person; Schiaparelli saw clothes as an art form that should make a statement.

The senior Mrs. Volk’s efforts to remain chic made her a slave to fashion: she turned over her entire wardrobe at least once a year. Her ideas are so different from how I think about fashion that they almost seem quaint. To each, his own!

Twisting the Volk philosophy

As a twist on Volk’s 24-hanger plan, here’s a practical iteration I have faith in: buy one great investment piece and wear it 24 ways—or at least a number greater than one. Better yet, blur the lines between twisted-Volk and revelatory-Schiaparelli: let that investment piece make a real statement.

This amortization philosophy helps me reconcile many purchases I might bypass if I was only considering the cash outlay. (For years, my father has used this rationale for guitar purchases. Why can’t I?) A $99 skirt like this one from Soft Surroundings is suddenly more affordable when you realize you can milk it for five different looks. In my mind, it’s not a $99 skirt anymore; it’s a $20 skirt.

I love a long skirt in all seasons. Even though Soft Surroundings sponsored this post, they couldn’t make me love them if I didn’t already.

What makes Soft Surroundings stand out for me as a fashion retailer
1) awesome long skirts 2) tops that flatter a mature figure like mine without being dowdy.

I liked the pen-and-ink style skirt in this post so much that I started digging around Soft Surroundings for other skirts. I’ve already purchased two more. Both will be summer workhorses, but in a different way than this one.

Who are you more akin to––Volk or Schiaparelli? What’s the best summer workhorse hanging in your closet and how do you style it?

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.

P.S. I actually thought I was smiling at you when we made these photos! I had a very sobering weekend and I think it still shows here. This post was sponsored by Soft Surroundings.

A few months ago I went shopping for a computer with my dad. When he pulled out his wallet to pay, he flashed a photo at me and asked if I wanted to see his girlfriend. There inside was a copy of this picture—my mom in her beehive days. Remember the beehive? Marge Simpson may be your earliest memory of the beehive, but for some of us, it goes further back than that.

In remembrance of Mothers Day, I asked my mother what she really wants her adult children to do now that we’re grown. Feel free to take Mom’s advice. It’s never steered me wrong.

A mother’s wish list

Be happy. There’s very little your mom can do about your happiness once you are grown. You are independent enough to figure that out on your own. Build strong relationships. Be faithful in marriage. Learn to be a good parent and friend. Have a spiritual life that takes care of your eternity. This is the stuff of lasting peace.

Be thankful. Appreciating what you have is the gateway to happiness. A heart that is always yearning, striving and craving is not truly grateful. When you are focused on lack and deprivation, you will be yoked with a very heavy burden. Dwell on your blessings. Learn to live resourcefully and within your means.

Stay healthy. By the time you reach the age of 18, your mom has invested a lot of time and money in keeping you physically well. Why would you want to throw all that away by eating or drinking too much, engaging in risky sexual behavior or skipping visits to the dentist or doctor? When we demonstrate that we can do those things without prodding, it takes a load off our mothers’ minds.

Know when to rest. You may think your mom has no comprehension of what prevents you from getting adequate rest. She just doesn’t understand. Think about this: yours isn’t the only generation to establish a career, raise a family, manage a budget and make its way through life. Keeping yourself refreshed is part of living a productive life. You’re the only person in the world who knows when its time to sleep and how much you need. If you don’t manage your rest, be assured of one thing: your body will eventually manage it for you.

Work me into your routine. Call. Write. Pop in for a short visit when you’re in the neighborhood. Arrive when you say you will. Mothers do not like feeling that they are bugging their children by calling too often. When you include your mom in your routine, you demonstrate that she still matters––that her usefulness to you has not expired. Guys, maybe you don’t have as much in common with your mother as you used to. That’s understandable. Do it anyway. Send her clips of things she might enjoy reading. Slip a note in the mail and tell her you are thinking about her. Call her on your way to or from work. She has spent the biggest part of her life supporting the things you are interested in. Surely you can find some common ground.

I feel blessed to have my mom and we talk on the phone as often as we can. How do you keep in touch with your mom?

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.

When I learned that my friend Jennifer was looking for a poodle skirt for her daughter, I was thrilled to remove something from her already crowded to-do list! Jennifer runs herself ragged taking care of her family and working long hours. I insisted that she let me make it because: a) it sounded fun b) I love Jennifer and, by extension, her daughter Autumn who is light and air, and c) helping someone else with their clothes seemed like the healthy side of an unhealthy relationship with clothes.

Every girl should have at least one poodle skirt in her life. Here’s Autumn, wearing the iconic 1950s skirt. I like the glitzy, sequined leash she chose for her poodle.

As her costume designer, I snagged an invite to her spring concert and got to see her swirl on stage in it. Extra payola: Autumn loaned me her American Girl doll (coincidentally named Crystal) as a model for an 18-inch doll’s flapper dress. I’m making one to give away later this month as a celebratory nod to the opening of The Great Gatsby. Stay tuned, if you have an American Girl enthusiast in the family!

In April, I also had a call from a mother in search of a Carole Brady-ish costume for her daughter. (For those too young to know, Carole Brady was the Mom played by Florence Henderson on the 1970s TV show, The Brady Bunch.) I had just the thing for her daughter Aubrey and offered to give it away. There’s not a lot of demand for 1970s double-knit dresses, even among the most serious vintage aficionados. I knew I’d never sell it anyway.

When they stopped by to pick it up, Aubrey’s mother brought a mink-trimmed pillbox hat as a trade! Aubrey is a charming little girl and I could have adopted her right on the spot.

Aubrey used the dress for a classroom presentation on Florence Henderson. Here she is, channeling Carole Brady!

Let me share a little secret about making poodle skirts.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of online tutorials will tell you that making one is as simple as: 1) measuring your waist and your desired length, 2) folding your fabric in half and then in half again, 3) dividing your waist measurement by Pi (3.14) and dividing that product by two to get the radius. From there, they say, it’s simply a matter of using a tape/string to draw a curved line from the point of your fold to an edge the length of the radius. That makes the waist—or so they say. From that point, you measure the length of your skirt plus any hem allowance you want.

What’s wrong with the formula?

Unfortunately, that oft repeated formula does not account for one important thing: fabric is fluid. It has drape and bias. If you follow the formula, you’ll have an opening that’s way too big and tough to alter.

My advice

Always start much smaller than you think and continue to fit until you have the waist just right. Even with my rudimentary skills, it was really very easy to make once I caught on.

How rewarding it was to share my interest in vintage clothes with another generation! I’d do that again in a heartbeat. What’s your most favorite costume ever?

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.

If you’ve visited before, you know that Julie H. is, in my estimation, a living guide of how to be a lady. We’ve known each other since we were just a few years out of college. I couldn’t wait to see what she would choose for Hats Off. Here she is, channeling early Coco Chanel. Check out some of Chanel’s early designs here  and  here and you’ll see just what I mean.

Julie with another friend, Barbara Riordan, a costumer designer whose work is on display regularly in theatre productions around Indianapolis. Her designs have also been shown in Project IMA, an annual fashion show that’s always a heart-pounding event. Barbara and I give each other moral support every time we see each other at a local fashion event. Believe it or not, it takes a certain amount of courage to keep showing up for fashion, refusing to step aside just because we’re “middle-aged.” Here she is in her own designs––hat and all. I love the super hero fabric.

The china from lunch. Photo by 505 Photo Studio

Sola Adelowo made her own hat the morning of the event. Uh huh. Really. Stunning. Her grandmother was a fabric merchant and she wanted to do something that honored her Nigerian heritage. Honestly, I think we’re going to be friends very soon because a) she reached out to help me properly identify her and say hi, and b) she is an image consultant and certified Myers-Brigg Personality Type Practitioner. (I’ve taken the Myers-Brigg exam five times with the same result. There must be something to it. I can’t wait to learn more about Sola’s work.)

The two women on the left are best friends. “We know each others’ secrets going all the way back to college days,” one of them said. The pink hat was one of the winners in the Hatitude category (I think). Photo by 505 Photo Studio

Here’s Jody DeFord, the woman who aced me out in the Hatastique category, a best of show category for the best all-around ensemble. Stiff competition, don’t you agree? I was a runner up in that category. Yikes! Photo by 505 Photo Studio

See me on the far right end, shrinking in embarrassment? I cannot stand to be the center of attention—not that I actually was, but still. A common, but erroneous appraisal of my “total vintage look” — that the whole thing was from the 1950s. Only the hat was from that era. The dress is a vintage Leslie Fay from the 1970s. I won a box of chocolates from The Best Chocolate in Town, which I originally intended to save for a trip Julie and I are making this summer. At the moment, there’s only one left. Sorry about that, Julie. (Please cut me some slack. There were only five––maybe six–– chocolates in the box!) Photo by 505 Photo Studio

Our table at the luncheon. I sat by a former English teacher who volunteers at the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library and we found lots to talk about. Photo by 505 Photo Studio

How very different we are in our abilities to carry off a hat. Michael Cunningham, author of Crowns said his mother would never loan her hat to anyone, because if the borrower looked better in it than she did….well…. Love this Out of Africa––Meryl Streep winner! Clever, wasn’t she?

Michael Cunningham, the author of Crowns, with friend Madison Hanulak, a local stylist and blogger at Preppy Guide to Life. Check out a profile I did a few weeks ago about her. This photo and several others noted in this post were taken by her fiance Tyler Hromadka. Photo by 505 Photo Studio

Guys were well represented. You have to give the one on the right props. He made the hat himself! He won the Out of Africa–Robert Redford category.

Clearly, this is a man who is very comfortable with himself!

Okay, hats weren’t the only thing of interest. I love these shoes, but it’s the nude fishnet hose that really attracted my attention. What a wonderful alternative for ladies who just can’t/won’t follow the bare leg trend. Ultra sheer hose are also finding favor among many fashion bloggers I follow.

In the center, Petra Slinkard, Curatorial Associate of Textile/Fashion Arts and European Painting and Sculpture—a genuinely nice person who always makes me feel warm and welcome. To me, one of the local Grand Poobahs of fashion. Photo by 505 Photo Studio

The design of this hat is very similar to my own—a little broader. I love the way it shows the sweetness of this woman’s spirit. Notice how her shoes exactly match her dress? This woman is a stickler for details, I’d say.

Other hats I loved:

The spider hat.
Handmade by this hat contest judge.
Another handmade hat. This woman was also a winner.

After all this hat inspiration, I walked away bewildered by why I don’t wear a hat more often. Someone suggested that once women began spending lots of money on their hair––cutting, coloring and the like, we didn’t have the heart to cover our heads anymore.

I vowed that I would be more bold, wearing them whenever I could––and then promptly passed on a great and wholly-acceptable opportunity to wear one to a wedding this past weekend. When I started having hard chills during the reception and had to leave early, I was glad that I hadn’t called that extra attention to myself. And really, isn’t that what it comes down to: we don’t wear them now because they are so rare that we must prepare ourselves for the attention they bring?

What about you? Are you prepared to wear a hat? For the month of May, I’m inviting everyone to post pictures of themselves in hats on our Facebook page. (You must be a Facebook friend before you can post.) If you can, include a hat tip that will help the rest of us feel more brave about wearing them. I’m asking my friend Julie to choose her favorite hat and I have a special vintage gift for her pick.

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.

There are at least three things that are nearly extinct from modern life: china, hostess skirts and hats. When I was a kid, any dinner guest was cause for bringing out the good china and silver. And no self-respecting bride would organize a gift registry that did not include china. Not so anymore.

People dine out rather than entertaining at home—which also explains the disappearance of the hostess skirt. If you hosted or attended a casual weekend party during the 70s, a long hostess skirt was your go-to wardrobe staple, worn with a turtleneck or blouse.

And on any Sunday morning in the 1960s, women and girls donned hats and gloves for church and possibly for other things. (I can’t say because my social agenda was limited to occasions that allowed 5- to 10-year-old kids. Back in the Children-Should-Be-Seen-And-Not-Heard Era, that was a much smaller list of possibilities than it is today.)

Unfortunately, hats became a casualty of a less formal approach to worship—with one notable exception. Black women still turn out for worship in magnificent hats, upholding a tradition that shows how integral their headwear has always been to their faith.

A book for hat lovers

That’s the subject of a stunning book by Michael Cunningham, Crowns: Portraits of Black Women in Church Hats. Cunningham was guest lecturer at yesterday’s Hats Off event at the Indianapolis Museum of Art. He first conceived of  Crowns after attending a conference in New York, where he heard a captivating message. “As artists, we were encouraged to always have a personal project,” he says.

As a successful commercial photographer who makes his living doing corporate work, Cunningham was stymied by the lack of creative freedom allowed by his paying work. In Crowns, it is on full display in gorgeous black and white photography, accompanied by personal profiles of the women who wear them. First published by Doubleday 13 years ago, the book’s sales were originally projected at 15,000 copies. A month after hitting the market, Cunningham’s book doubled that forecast. Today, 150,000 copies have been sold.

Crowns is a book of elegance and wisdom, loaded with hat lore and anecdotes from Cunningham’s regal-looking subjects. Not to diminish these women, but have you ever noticed that almost everyone is more interesting in a hat?

Gems from the book

• “Don’t let people knock the hat. Don’t let people touch the hat. Don’t let people hug too close.”––Peggy Knox
• “I’m 47, a wife, mother, law school teacher and a former assistant attorney general, but my mother still dresses me.” ––Beth Hopkins
• In the 1950s, hats were a sign of status among working women. When you got your first job, you bought a hat. This was particularly important when cultural bigotry and discrimination relegated many (if not most) black women to the lowliest positions. No matter what they did during the week, dressing up on Sundays was a source of dignity and strength.
• Black women developed their own community of milliners because segregation prevented them from entering department stores where hats were sold.
• The faith connection is from I Corinthians 11:5, where the apostle Paul encourages women to cover their heads during worship. Symbolically, it caps off a person’s presence and allows God’s presence everywhere else. In black churches, this tradition predates the Civil War. Even slave women found ways to cover and decorate their heads.

Cunningham is the author of two other books: Queens: Portraits of Black Women and their Fabulous Hair and Jewels: 50 Phenomenal Black Women Over 50. He’s also a devilishly handsome dude who inscribed my book, “Congratulations, Hat Queen.” I’ll explain that in my next post, where I’ll share photos from Hats Off—and my personal agony for my little 15 minutes of fame. I guess a person who finds even a small amount of notoriety excruciating is bound to be only so successful in life!

If you like the drama of a hat, stay tuned! How often do you wear hats and where did you find your favorite?

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.

At the change of every season, I get a bad case of shoe malaise similar to this character. Can I still wear my boots in May, my sandals in October? I grew up on fashion rules and I want to know what’s right if only to feel good about breaking the rules. (I wore my black boots with white cotton trousers on a rainy April Sunday–probably not copasetic by someone’s rulebook, but okay with me.)

Rebellion aside, it’s a happy day when I learn that the formerly frumpy is chic again, as confirmed by this story in the New York Times Style section: low heels are “in” again! It feels like a personal victory for me and all my contemporaries who can’t stand or walk in anything more than a 2.5 inch heel—sort of like discovering Fleetwood Mac is back on the touring circuit again.

Don’t get me wrong: I adore high heels on other people. But Coco Chanel already fought the battle that lets us be comfortably stylish today. Who are we to backslide? (She was a great fan of the low heel. Imagine what she’d say about some of the Eiffel Towers we put on our feet!)

There was a day when I couldn’t imagine forgoing the beautiful for the practical. Be assured of one thing: when the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of changing, you’ll gladly consent to a low kitten heel that allows you to walk with grace–without killing the ball of your foot, back or knees. And lo, if you wait long enough, you’ll find your preference catapulting to the very top of the charts, momentarily making you a fashion muse.

The New York Times story shows a very artful collection of low heels that reflect the trend. Unfortunately, only one of them (a $79 Zara sandal) was under $600–– not quite within the budget of even the most well-heeled (pardon the pun) women I know. The threshold for originality seems to start at $600, but for regular people like myself, I’ve done my best to assemble some reasonably-priced, low heels that are perfect for summer. None are bargains, but they are mostly high-quality shoes that can stay in your closet a few decades. Most are slingback pumps, a design I consider perfect for carrying you from season to season.

Four stylish low-heel pumps for summer

Joan & David – Gianne (Light Yellow Patent) – Footwear

Lilly Pulitzer – Kat Kitten Heel (New Green) – Footwear

Stuart Weitzman – Chainomid (Moon Glow Aniline) – Footwear

Trotters – Prima (Nude Patent) – Footwear

What’s your favorite Fleetwood Mac song?  Mine’s The Chain, followed by You Making Loving Fun. Have you seen any great low heels for summer? 

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.

I’ve only known a handful of people who could apply Shakespeare to daily life gracefully, fewer still who could recite long passages as illumination. Yet another reason to be enchanted by author Ann Patchett, who recited Shakespeare’s St. Crispin’s Day speech at the McFadden Memorial Lecture Friday night in Indianapolis.

Patchett originally learned the passage as a gift of encouragement to her fellow independent booksellers. Evidently, head-to-head competition with the formidable online retailer Amazon and big-box retailers has a way of wearing you down and she felt they needed a lift. The fictional speech Patchett recited is about a real battle in the Hundred Year War, when Henry V’s army, badly weakened by dysentery but emboldened by his leadership, defeated the stronger French army.

Having committed that speech to memory, Patchett included it as part of her lecture, wielding it like a mighty weapon against several harmful myths. Among them:

Books are dead. In Nashville, Patchett helped open a 3,000 square foot independent bookstore (Parnassus Books) that replaced 60,000 square feet of profitable space vacated by two ginormous booksellers. It was all part of a bigger corporate strategy—not poor store performance. Imagine condensing all that demand for books into a store a fraction of the size. Patchett says her Nashville store is doing fine, thank you very much.

Libraries are dead. I can’t count the number of times I’ve read or heard people forecasting certain doom for libraries or questioning their relevancy. Guess what? Just because you and I can afford to buy our own books and internet service doesn’t mean everyone can or wants to. There’s never been a time during a down economy when library use hasn’t surged. That’s a fact. “The library is one of the places where America is at its best,” Patchett says. “It’s very important that you support the public library because it’s still a model of justice.”

Corporate America rules. “I use to think that things happened to us,” Patchett says. “I thought WalMart killed small town businesses. But we did it. We control our destiny.” Every time we insist on saving 37 cents on a package of toothpaste or quiz the staff at our locally-owned nursery for gardening information—and then run down the street to Lowe’s to buy all the supplies, we weaken our community and diminish local job opportunities. “It’s our responsibility to make the kind of community we want to live in,” Patchett says.

Talent determines what we achieve. One of the great mythologies of writing according to Patchett, is that it’s based on creativity and talent. Writing is actually more comparable to marriage. “At this point in my life, writing feels far less about creativity and talent and more about work,” she says. “I write by showing up every boring day and practicing the work.” If you’re waiting for a burst of inspiration or creativity, that day may never come. Writing, like all achievements, is based on work. Many of us desperately want to believe that what we admire in others is based on some sort of endowed talent, making such accomplishments off limits to the rest of us. What a convenient excuse to avoid pursuing a dream. With the right amount of work and determination, Patchett implies we can do most anything.

We have to change with the times. Patchett doesn’t watch TV and she doesn’t use Facebook or Twitter. That would probably diffuse the kind of focus it takes to carry around those splendid novels in her head. “I’m very much a product of my generation,” she says. “I really want to be careful with my brain. I can sit in a chair and do one thing for 12 hours. And there may be very few of us left.”

For those of us who measure life in terms of followers, her guarded approach to media merits some consideration. Social media has made my life more frenzied. Precious hours I used to devote to reading and other things that matter are hard to come by these days. I sometimes wonder whether it’s healthy for me, despite all the good that’s come of it. I can imagine what Patchett’s response would be to that sort of challenge. “God has yet to whisper in my ear,” she says of her own writing. “My hand is always on the wheel.”

Here’s one final offering from Patchett’s lecture.

For bloggers and other people who sling out content at breakneck speed with less and less time to refine our ideas and work, take a page from Patchett’s philosophy on guilt: stop beating yourself up. “Every time I write, I am confronted by my lack of intelligence and talent and wish I could put it down better than I have,” she says. How does she deal with that? “I have an overwhelming ability to forgive myself.” If that’s good practice for someone writing content made to reside in our hearts long after it’s read, how much more should it comfort us as we prepare content that’s quickly digested and soon forgotten?

Here are six books Patchett recommends.

Casual Vacancy, by J.K. Rowling
Independent People, by Haldor Laxness
The Leopard, by Giuseppe, di Lampedusa
The All of It, by Jeannette Halen
Old Filth, by Jane Gardam
The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains, by Nicholas Carr (Here’s an old post which mentions other books on the subject. Obviously, I didn’t stick with the plan mentioned in the first paragraph of this post!)

What’s your favorite Ann Patchett novel? And how do you regulate the time you spend with technology? What is the net effect of the internet on your time? I’m linking this post to Not Dead Yet Style, so mosey on over and check out her Visible Monday series.

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.

Then there’s all the time you spend shopping and wishing for new stuff that goes with the stuff you already have. If you’re like me, sometimes you have so much stuff that you have to donate the older stuff to make room for the newer stuff. And, of course, there are the countless hours you spend working to make the money that buys all this stuff.

I never realized how much stuff I had until I traveled abroad and saw how simply people in other countries live. Weekend junkets where we have stayed in old cottages with no closets or storage also remind me of all my stuff. The people who once lived there probably had two or three changes of clothes–one for school, one for work and one for church.

A few months ago, I felt brave when I committed to limiting most of my purchases to used or DIY clothes–a great move toward a more sustainable way of life. But that’s not good enough, especially if I ever hope to fit in my dream home. Which is. A Very. Tiny. House. Between 130 and 554 square feet to be exact.

Here’s the cool thing about these homes: you can choose between a mobile option or one that sits on a permanent foundation. Since I work virtually, how cool would it be to haul a mobile version to different locales a few times a year? Or simply to try the permanent version as a weekend getaway on a lake somewhere?

This summer I’m attending a Tumbleweed Tiny House workshop where you can learn how to build a tiny house yourself. Meanwhile, I find myself more attached to my stuff than I ever realized as I try to picture giving things away. And rationalizing. I thought, “Hey, we’re not getting rid of our current house, so I wouldn’t really have to part with my things.”

This is the whole paradox of the sustainable living movement, isn’t it? Often, we’re ill-prepared to make truly revolutionary changes. We want to hang on to our old lifestyle while pretending to live differently. Some people, like Jay Shafer, the owner of Tumbleweed Tiny House, have found a sort of middle way by renting out their original home and living in a tiny house.

What do you think? Could you ever live in a house this small? Do you think a fashion nut like me could ever part with most of her clothes and accessories to live this small? Which would you choose–a mobile small house or one on a permanent foundation?

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.

I’m busting the old myth that says you need to be trained in classical music to appreciate it. That’s no more true than saying you have to understand how movies are made before you can enjoy them. It’s true that knowledge adds something to the experience. But it isn’t a prerequisite for anyone with a pulse.

It’s all that’s human

A good classical work is the expression of things you’d like to say and can’t, or things you suffered and wish you hadn’t. It’s the tongue lashing Mary Todd Lincoln gives Thaddeus Stevens in Lincoln. Stevens, not known for being dull of wit, can only stand there and take it like a man.

It’s her rage toward her husband and her grief over the loss of a child. It’s the impossible longing in Anna Karenina, the violence in Saving Private Ryan and the triumph of Lt. Daniel Kaffee in A Few Good Men.

It’s what you want to say to the person who won’t accept your love, or the bull-headed family member who refuses to change. It exorcizes your bitterness over a job loss and thumps the co-worker who’s driving you mad. It’s the unbearable joy of holding a new baby, the feeling of sun on your skin after a long winter, a high school basketball championship and a hole-in-one.

Whether you know much about it or not, listen up. You’re sure to find a classical piece that articulates just what you’re feeling.

Classical stars in Indy

The gala finals of the Classical Fellowship Awards sponsored by the American Pianists Association were held here on Friday and Saturday night. I heard three of the five finalists on Friday—the rough equivalent of having three pieces of cheesecake where the last bite was just as delicious as the first.

I had to hold myself down to keep from buying another $30 ticket for the final concert where Sean Chen gave his final performance and cinched the weeklong competition.

You can read all about him here. His prize: $50,000 in cash plus lots of media exposure and promotion that will stimulate an already promising career.

If you live in Indy, put these performances on your must-do list for next spring. Some of the competition is free and open to the public through noon concerts at Christ Church Cathedral on the circle.

I’m linking up with the always-inspiring Patti, Not Dead Yet Style, in response to her invite to share the accessories that make you feel great. My favorite is this pair of vintage rhinestone earrings, which I wore to the concert with this funky trench jacket in taffeta. When you wear extremely short hair, you really must wear earrings to soften the edges a bit. These are my favorites.

What’s your favorite piece of classical music or your favorite vintage accessories?

Life is short. Wear the good stuff.