This is Friday Feels from Feeling Phine. The last post in this series can be found right here. Thanks for reading! x
Hello all,
I hope this last week of January was gentle on you.
In this edition I’ve decided to examine a consistent, enduring object of my affection: clothing.
This is more of a ~visual journey~ than an essay. I thought I’d try something new. Hope you like it?!
x
Something about layers of embellished satin or cotton cause my heart to flutter. They remind me of Prince, a ubiquitous figure in my life since childhood, thanks to my mom’s lifelong obsession.
When I got my new job last fall, I was in need of more ~professional~ clothing, which presented a wonderful opportunity to add a new cotton top into my wardrobe.
I was thrilled when I found the perfect embellished, puffy-sleeved blouse:
I had acquired something similar earlier on in the month, but was let down during my at-home-try-on. I thought I would rock the top, but the top was in fact rocking me. It was not giving Prince. It was giving “Wisconsin’s Best Butter Churner, 1892.” To the Target Returns department, I marched (read: begrudgingly drove).
Despite the palpable prior misfire, the universe understood my intention, and THE blouse presented itself to me during a writing-procrastination-browsing session.
When it arrived in the mail I was stoked. The sleeve length and shoulders fit perfectly. The embroidered collar was sublime. Unfortunately, the garment possessed one fatal flaw - the peplum waist was way too large. To the tailor, I marched (drove, again… it’s LA.)
One week later, as I made my way back to pick up the blouse, I started to wonder how much postage, gas, and manpower had been allocated towards this particular sartorial effort. I quickly stopped calculating; to know the answer would be too painful. “A perfect fit is priceless!” My determined inner sartorialist soothed my other, more anxious self. (I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again… a girl contains multitudes.)
To my relief, when I slipped on the blouse at home I knew the efforts had paid off.
Then, finally, at work this last week, A LEWK WAS SERVED:
Dusk turned to night, and the chilly weather presented a second exciting element, that of layering. I’ve always had a penchant for the Wednesday Addams look: a dark dress or sweater with a crisp white top underneath, the bright collar popping out and providing dramatic contrast. It is girlish, gothic, and chic at once.
I realized I could achieve an exaggerated version of this style if I layered my black tweed jacket (a thrift shop find!) over my freshly tailored blouse:
Voilà! The collar’s floral details were enhanced by the darker fabric layered underneath. The lengths of the sleeves staggered flawlessly.
**Chef’s kiss** A second look had been served.
SOMEONE had to be notified, immediately. I sent the above image to Mario, my fellow fashion aficionado.
His response?
Prior to this exchange, I was not privy to the little lad who loves berries and cream. Now, his song and jig are burned into my mind. Watch at your own risk:
He was certainly not the musical icon I had originally intended to emulate. “Berries and Cream” is no “Purple Rain.” But what the Little Lad and Prince share in common, aside from their statement collars, are the all-important qualities of confidence and charisma. I intend to channel both as I wear my fresh blouse through winter, and into spring.
xoxo, Fashion Phine
Love it and especially how you ended it!
I like the accurate shout out to Wisconsin and UCSB gear.