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The height of the spring racing season may be behind us, but the remnants of the best and the worst of it remain. We are still being bombarded with photographic evidence online of those who looked the best, and those who looked the worst, and tragically those who look the worst are what many of us tend to think of when we think of racing fashion.
For the sport of kings, there seems to be a disproportionately high number of race goers who dress and act like they're at the other end of the spectrum. Arriving at Flemington before midday on one of the key race days, I was witness to many a filly (and not the four legged kind) already in varying stages of undress, some already carrying thier shoes and not really acting like royalty. In fact, one girl was already shoeless and rolling about on the grass.
I think the most tragic thing about the tragic outfits and behaviour we witness at the races is that it's one time you can truly go over the top when it comes to fashion. It's practically a crime not to go all out and be ridiculously fabulously dressed. It's a rare occassion that you can don a massive hat, gloves and other classic accessories, so why would you throw that opportunity away to instead practically show your knickers and run about barefoot? That's what Bondi Beach is for!
September 24th 2009 23:28
There are some situations where fashion is subject to a dress code. I posted about this yesterday (those of you who read this blog avidly know that…you are out there, right?) and how there have been a couple of situations of late where a dress code has been prescribed for somewhat formal events, and yet somehow the resulting fashion got muddled none the less.
The first example of this was when my partner was invited to dine with some rather important people who were in town on business from Canada. It was all very formal and posh and I was required to attend a dinner as the other half and pretend like I had been brought up on the very right side of the tracks. I have to admit I felt a bit Pretty Woman, but thanks to that fabulous piece of cinematic history I at least knew which order to use my cutlery in. The prescribed dress standard was cocktail. Brilliant. Out came the very lovely and very cocktail 50s inspired black Wayne Cooper dress with collared halter, full skirt and belted waist. Only, no-one else was in cocktail. In fact, they weren’t even remotely close. Everyone else had clearly interpreted the dress code to mean work-wear or plain old frumpy. Enter overdressed me. Granted, my dress was fabulous but I’m not the kind of person who would strut about happy in the knowledge I was better dressed than the other people there (unlike the friend of mine I spoke of yesterday) so I was left feeling kind of awkward and not really wanting to take my trench coat off. Odd for a venue where staff opened the door and then were positioned at the ready with trays of drinks – you would think glam would be the go. I learnt that was not the case the hard way.
So at the more recent formal occasion I was required to attend - dinner at Government House and again due to my fabulously clever partner - I figured I had learnt my fashion lesson. The dress code provided prior to the event was sufficiently vague however – dinner dress. Now I don’t know about you, but depending on where I have dinner, my “dinner dress” covers every possible facet of the fashion spectrum from denim to ball gown. But as I said, having learnt my fashion lesson from the Canadian experience, I opted to ignore the dress code entirely and opt for a dress I would wear to work. I was bang on. Incredible. By completely ignoring the dress code, I actually got it right. Hmmm.
Interestingly, it would seem this time my partner got it wrong. While ladies were told to choose dinner dress, men were to present themselves in “lounge suit.” I love that term because it just makes me think of Hugh Heffner, but in real attire terms, I have been led to believe it means suit minus tie – as in, pretend to be a bit formal, but not really. How aristocratic of those lovely people in Canberra. A bit of googling confirms that many others share the same opinion my lovely boyfriend and I did – relaxed business. Collared shirt, no need for the top hat. Sadly he was the only one who didn’t wear a tie. Enter him, under-dressed.
Maybe the next time we’ll get it right in unison.
September 24th 2009 00:08
Is there such a thing as too dressed up? The obvious answer is yes, but what if the other option is not dressed up enough? Which is actually worse? I have been pondering this question for quite a while now, and most recently due to a couple of work related outings at which the dress code didn’t end up matching the ensembles of those in attendance.
Being over dressed or under dressed is a concern that plagues many of us, particularly when an “occasion” arises, and particularly when said occasion provides a somewhat ambiguous dress code. Actually, even when there’s no dress code stated, a day and a venue is enough to imply one and sometimes even that can end up with people flummoxed.
Take for example, a Friday night not all that long ago when I was asked to meet my boyfriend at a pub in a very trendy suburb. I deliberated a little because it was a pub, but it was also still a Friday night, and in a suburb where fashion is paramount. So I opted for skinny jeans, a red top and boots, which even as I type doesn’t sound that absurd a choice for a Friday night in a good location but oh, was I overdressed. I think the point where I definitely realised it was when, after having been to the bar to get a drink, I ended up standing next to a girl in a Ninja Turtles t-shirt and sand shoes. At that point I actually had to wonder which one of us had got it more wrong.
I have a friend who thinks this type of scenario is actually fine. She is, more often than not, overdressed. She even managed to overdress for a girls’ picnic that I organised on a patch of grass at the end of my street. A patch of grass which certainly stretches the definition of the title “park” that ‘s been bestowed on it, and yet she tottered on along in her 3 inch heels and Wheels & Doll baby get-up.
Her opinion is better overdressed than under dressed and there’s nothing wrong with being remembered for being the best-dressed person anywhere you go. Hmmm…I wonder. I mean granted, it’s probably better that I was in my boots and red top at a pub than be in jeans when everyone else opted for ball gowns, but really we all just want to be dressed right for the occasion all the time. That’s not to say you can’t still aim to be the best dressed person there, but you want to stand out for your fashion, not because you got it so very wrong.
And for my lovely handful of readers who are just dying to know about the work functions and dress codes that got all muddled, I’ll blog about that tomorrow!
Why it is that when it comes to working out, getting fit, or the nation’s fascination with the biggest loser, the adage ‘no pain no gain’ is not only accepted but whole heartedly embraced? We’re encouraged to practically torture ourselves in the name of getting fit, often can’t move for days at a time afterwards, and are told sore muscles are a good thing. So why then when it comes to fashion does everyone get up in arms about those of us who embrace the same no pain no gain mentality?
The saying goes that we suffer for our fashion, and I believe it’s in the same way as those of us who exercise suffer for our physiques. Both are self inflicted pain in order to look good, and often the pain is similar – sore muscles, trouble breathing – so what a ridiculous idea it is that stilettos and clothes that stifle your breathing just a little should be outlawed in favour of comfort? That’s like saying, “skip the gym and go have a pie.” Sure it might feel better, but it’s not going to give you the outcome you want, is it
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Recently at a social gathering I found myself amidst a group of people I didn’t know particularly well and I noticed something that possibly makes me sound like the world’s most shallow person. I found my shoes more interesting than most of the people there. Now before you cast judgment, please hear me out.
Firstly, based on past posts, it’s fairly obvious I have a slight fetish for footwear. This already means I am very inclined to think many positive things about shoes, and it also means that when I do attend social outings, I pay careful attention to what goes on my feet. This means that any shoes I am wearing on a night out are (in my mind anyway) pretty fabulous, and are therefore worthy of lots of glances. Or in the case of the social event I’m discussing, more lingering looks
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I went to a media launch for a charity event yesterday and there were a few interesting outfits on display. The one that intrigued me the most turned out to belong to a TV producer. She was wearing a jaunty beret and a fur coat while the kids running around were dressed as Santas. I couldn’t decide who seemed more out of place. But her crazy ensemble made me ponder the notion of to what extent your occupation dictates your outfits. I know that a lot of people’s place of residence is affected significantly by where they work, so could the same be true of fashion?
In scouting around the city for evidence of my thoughts, I had to acknowledge that of course there are those occupations where what you wear every day is 100% determined by your job. Nurses, bank tellers and airline stewards for example. But when a uniform isn’t part of the equation, I wonder how many people’s jobs you could successfully guess based on what they’re wearing. There are a lot of stereotypes associated with occupations, and if they’re anything to go by, you’d be able to determine someone’s trade fairly easily I’d say. Or maybe people who have a certainly type of style are a certain type of personality and so are attracted to certain roles
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I have lived through the strange phenomenon of disappearing clothes several times, and I was relieved this week to learn I am not alone. When I first told my boyfriend I had managed to somehow lose a little black dress (the victim of the most recent incident, and the disappearance of which I am devastated about), he got all suspicious and asked where I could have possibly left such an item. That’s just the problem - I have no idea. I went for it in my wardrobe, and it just wasn’t there. This is a most upsetting and perplexing predicament. How can clothes just vanish?
This week, a colleague of mine mentioned that she’s lost her best winter jacket. I would say a coat is possibly even more difficult to lose than a relatively small dress, but it’s left both of us baffled. Dresses and coats are things you tend to remember taking off and putting down, and yet neither of us have the foggiest where said items have ended up. You do tend to have flashbacks of leaving a jacket like that on the train, or in a cab, usually once the freezing wind rips right through your now inadequate attire. The problem with the dress however, is that I would have had to have ended up pretty close to naked after having taken it off, and since I’m not in the habit of heading home in just my knickers, you’d think there’s not that many places I could have actually left it behind
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I know I’ve said before that men’s fashion is, in my opinion, limited in comparison to the options bestowed upon females. However I do still think that if a man makes effort, he can look incredibly dashing (don’t you love that word?) and fabulously stylish. And yet every day I see more horrific ensembles on men than on women, and considering the CBD is teeming with dapper gents, I don’t understand why those who are letting the side down fail to see what they’re doing wrong. As much as I hate to say it…there seems to be a subculture of men looking worse than women.
Take this morning for example, I was pondering exactly this topic as I marched through the CBD on my way to the office. Running a tad late from my usual leaving home time, I hit the very peak of peak hour and so I had many, many fashion subjects to fascinate me as I navigated my way through the crowds of the city. Now, I am very (okay, sort of) lenient in my fashion criticisms in the morning because I know that this town often requires ill-matched footwear in particular to be donned in order to get to work. I myself walk a fair distance to get to my office, and although I do my utmost to match one my limited pairs of flat shoes to what I have on, sometimes it doesn’t quite work, but it’s just that bit too far to get away with stilettos
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Fashion seems to have the ability to bring out the best and the worst in women. Are we all just jealous, mean creatures with rapidly deployed claws upon seeing another specimen with better clothes, better accessories, or a better physique? Sadly I think the answer is yes. When fashion is so much about your exterior, it’s difficult not to get caught up in the comparisons, and it’s also very easy to become a total bitch when you feel outdone, or worse, ugly as a result.
Fashion envy, resulting in fashion nastiness, is an interesting concept when fashion is actually about beauty for most of us who are under its spell. Fashion for me means pretty things that I can take home and make myself pretty with too. Of course there are some days when nothing is making me feel pretty, not even three inches of makeup, but those days are sometimes when fashion becomes even more crucial. At least if I can put on a fabulous outfit, something in my exterior world should be going right. A great ensemble, great accessories or a great pair of shoes can lift our mood and put a spring in our step. And yet when we see that on someone else, or we sit down to watch it on Fashion TV, it can make our blood boil and our own self esteem plummet. And that’s when the green eyed monster can make the nicest of us become unjustly nasty and critical beyond our fashion credentials probably permit
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As a female, I think fashion definitely works in our favour. There are times when I look at men’s clothing options and do feel a tad sorry for them. And then I look at how some ladies dress and I feel sorry for them too. When we have so many options and opportunities to look fabulous, why would anyone insist on wearing anything that makes you look less than a million bucks? Ladylike glamour is where it’s at, and when so many designers make that so easy for us, getting about looking like a trollop is, in my opinion, inexcusable.
When you look to the greats of the fashion world it’s easy to see that looking like a lady is a fundamental for the establishment of some of the most coveted houses. Chanel for example never goes out of style, and her elegant lines and feminine suits live on. She didn’t send women down the runway in torn stockings and knicker-skimming skirts, and neither should you strut your own daily runway in such attire. You only need look to one of the world’s most highly sought after labels – Prada – and their take on fashion to realise that being a lady is not just important, but fashionable. Prada specialises in minimalism through simple designs and for the most part, a lack of contrasting colours. Prada has been designed for fashionable folk who want to look classic, fashionable and stylish without beating those around them over the head with their fashion choices
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Comment by JEz
on Permanent Fashion Choices
Life according to Jane
Fashion Moi