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secondlookblog · 3 years

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I’ve always maintained two separate wardrobes: my urban wardrobe and my outdoors wardrobe. My urban wardrobe asserts itself, each piece selected for its potential to, when married (ideally in odd-couple fashion) with other bits and bobs of my sartorial collection, express (enchantingly) my titillating take on style and taste. It’s preciously curated vintage, amusing, unique, and often vaguely uncomfortable to wear. Certainly my clothing is a framework through which my interaction with my physical environment is mediated: a subway car, a downhill slant, a muddy shortcut each presents their own trials. Frequently I am prompted to modify my impulse to sit, run, stride, and lift based on the clothes I am wearing. I am a feminist who sometimes chooses to take mincing steps in tiny barbie shoes. Clothes are how I dance with the world. The terrain offers a provocation, and I respond with movement. Creativity, as it is often said, flourishes under constraint.

My outdoors wardrobe is analogous to a mute button. Its form, most decorously, follows function. Its colors are utilitarian: black, mostly…navy, some…a few light blues in shades I would never otherwise entertain. It is engineered for superior performance and then produced en masse, designed to become industry standard. Perhaps this is why I feel so erased when I wear it. Or perhaps it is because I purchased it for value, on the spot, without going through the formative stage of covetousness, which builds the foundation for true love. Unlike my urban wardrobe, this clothing is made to enable movement without constraint; an invitation to the dance of my wildest dreams. Yet when I don that drab apparel I feel deeply…unchallenged. Now, mind you, what I mostly feel is grateful: in the mountains after sunset I am thanking god for the tech fabrics on my back, no equivocation. Without a doubt, function is paramount (on the Mount). It just feels wrong, though, that if the outdoors is where I go to realign with nature, and thus a higher spirituality (natural facts are symbols for spiritual facts,,,thank you, Emerson), I am forced to engage in this sacred ceremony in borrowed costume, in garb that presents me to the world in my most uninspired form.

I’m ruminating on this morass of personal identity because I’ve just spent the past four months living in two weeks-worth of outdoors clothes, the very same I’ve just disparaged, repeating the combinations and permutations of a limited set over and over. At first, in Idaho, Wyoming, Montana, and Washington, I was exhilarated to discover how little it took to stay warm, dry, and comfortable in all sorts of environments. Back in California a month later, living in my childhood bedroom (where there was no room to house the rest of my wardrobe, which thusly stayed in storage), the charm wore off. As the days passed, I expected to reach a moment when I stopped caring that I was wearing the same fleece-lined pants, hiking boots, and cotton t-shirt again. It never came. Every morning I issued an internal groan and laced up my motherfucking boots.

Now that I am blissfully reunited with my marbled silk dress, my full-length poncho, and my steel-toed cowboy boots (among many other treasured johns), I’ve decided never to live that way again. It is time, I believe, to begin curating my outdoors wardrobe with as much wit, adoration, and intentionality as I do my urban wardrobe. Cue, vintage image research! I aspire to reach into the past and revive a time when functional outdoors clothing still consisted of beautiful garments. Despite being useful, these clothes look stylish, heavy, and hard (see Noah Johnson’s manifesto on “hard clothes”). In short, they look challenging.

Outdoors-wear is a wonderful opportunity for a statement hat. Loving the matching (collared!) sweater. C. 1930

Actress Dorothy Sebastian “trout fishing” in the CA mountains in the late 1920s. I would recreate this outfit head to toe. I own a pair of wader-style double-front pants (hunting pants, I think) and they are truly the most versatile item of clothing in my closet. Frequently used to offset a particularly dainty blouse or shoe.

I want a peaked little pixie hat so badly. Once my friend Eliza tried on the perfect fur pixie hat in a vintage store and neither of us got it and Ive never found another one as good. Still think about that hat at least once a week. I’m on a fair isle cardigan kick, too. The polka dots are little tiny hearts if you look closely. Would love to incorporate a feminine print into my outdoors wardrobe. Photo by Gunnar Lundh, 1942.

Another head-to-toe perfect outfit. The white collared shirt! Denim, as we know, is the original outdoors fabric.....

Buffalo plaid WITH the tartan hat. Pattern mixing just does not get any better. Colby College Mountain Day, October 1950.

One of the first female climbers, Miriam O’Brien Underhill, had to? chose to? climb in a NECKTIE (that looks like it’s about to strangle her, honestly). Makes the look, though. C. late 1920s

Rope belt, and is that a black tight with a run in it that I spy? If not, it should be.

I would wear either of their looks, but DAMN, THOSE JODHPURS. Actually, I want to scream about those boots and that perfect little jacket from the rooftops, too. Sometimes I look at these pictures and really wish I could be friends with these gals.

Speaking of gals I’d like to be friends with... If the earlier photos are how I’d like to look in my new outdoors wardrobe, this is how I’d like to *feel.* Jaunty scarf and harlequin socks included, please. C. 1931

Elaine, Rocky Mountain National Park, 1946. Well, Elaine, you sure knew how to dress. This is my template for the marriage of form and function. And I would like a bite of whatever is in that packed lunch. Obviously something good, because it needed to come in the photo.

Okay, I, too, would like to wake up in the woods, throw on some men’s slacks (preferably ones belonging to my sexy lumberjack bf), partially button my perfect flannel, and either do my hair up in a whimsical braid or else pop a turban over it.

I tried to leave this one behind but then the memory of those culottes refused to quit my sweet little brain.

Okay, side note, SO MANY images had campers eating bananas. Not the perfect travel food, due to the stink and propensity for bruising, no? Much ~suggestion~ was made online about these two ladies getting cozy with their bananas. I am above such tomfoolery. Beautiful fits.

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secondlookblog · 5 years

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The Cowboy is Dead and the Clown Will Claim His Throne

It all started with a tweet. My brother, Moses Mascuch, @mosesmyshoe, college sophomore and sartorial tastemaker-- quote: “trend prediction: we are close to - may have already reached - peak saturation of the cowboy aesthetic. predict a dropoff soon. what’s next: who can say, but I’m putting my money on clowns...” (hyperlink is mine). Knowing Moses, this tweet was 80% a joke, but jokes aside, he’s onto something.

Consider: Maximalism, poofy sleeves à la MaisonCléo, acid green, slime green, Millenial Pink, this Rachel Comey FW19 hat, these Rosie Assoulin shorts, La Veste (mixing loud prints, gingham, stripes, cloth buttons), pom poms, glitter, @beerbottles_chainsaws, Sir Babygirl, the Jacquemus micro bag. WE ARE CAREENING RAPIDLY DOWN A CULTURAL HILL, GAINING SPEED AT A RATE FASTER THAN WE CAN THINK, AND I DON’T BELIEVE WE EVEN REALIZE IT, BUT AT THE END OF THIS LINE IS...THE CLOWN.

If the sartorial cowboy is a reaction against the impotent simulation of life in the digital age, a harkening back to a function, quality, artisanship, and tactility, as well as a wry mocking of the fascism of the Trump era, then the clown is what we turned to when we looked in the mirror and instead of this we saw this and this staring back at us. That’s when we knew: we will never return to austerity and restraint; we are a frivolous, emotional, overstimulated nation trying to go viral; we’re boo boo the fucking fool. We are all, at our core, waiting to be revealed for the frauds we are-- children in adults bodies, facing a fucked up future that we are woefully unprepared for. Those among us who lead the cultural flock are already embracing this helplessness as an epic cosmic comedy: we are not the heroes we need us to be-- we’re clowns.

Cheer up. The clown can be cute, nay, downright joyful! The clown is a mishmash of everything that’s making us happy. It’s a walking Instagram feed. The clown wants to be liked, and so it trades in delight. Yes, it’s desperate for attention, but try wearing a ruff and a cone-shaped hat covered in pom-poms and you too will know the joy of having all your cards laid out on the table.

I think there might be redemption in the clown. Isn’t it, in some ways, the return of the repressed? We can stop acting like these walking superegos and let excess and emotion and desire come to the fore. The clown is a trickster of sorts, refusing to play by the staunch rules of respectability, delighting in contradiction and elusion, frightening because he is so unpredictable, so impossible to pin down. He is uniquely resistant to authority; consider the trope of the terrifying clown, like the murderous clown panic of 2016. The clown is both dangerously brazen and yet impervious to capture. We are haunted by those qualities (literally haunted, the fear of clowns is pervasive in our culture) because they threaten the very systems of authority that are the underpinnings of our culture, not just the police and the law, but authority writ large-- patriarchy, racism, hierarchy in general. The clown, a derivative of the court jester, is actually the foil to the dictator: in popular lore, the jester is always getting the better of the King.

So actually, maybe we do need clowns. Maybe cowboys are false heroes, enforcers of a bygone era of paternalism, a self-appointed police force tasked with patrolling the liminal spaces of our territory and weeding out the “Other” as they encroach. Maybe the clown is the antidote to politically-constructed division-- laughing at the systems of authority which create these hierarchies to confine us in and dousing their faces with their squirting flower. I think we instinctually know this: think about the reaction to the new mascot for the Philadelphia Flyers, Gritty. Gritty is a clown! And immediately he was deemed a hero of the proletariat and a “nonbinary leftist icon.” And yeah, much like the tweet that started this whole cowboy vs. clown thing, it was mostly a joke. But I still think we’re onto something.

It’s cats playing musical instruments. It’s like the ur-garment for ugly novelty librarian sweaters. In terms of chic-ness: the ruffle at the shoulder, the ruff just generally (I think I’m going to buy a ruff), the hat with pom poms. And, as they say, IT HAS POCKETS.

Harlequin is the next big pattern I’m calling it now.

In case you weren’t convinced.

I would wear this blouse.

I’m loving the white stockings with the black lace up.

I too aspire to wear a portrait of a goose on my shirt. Loving the mix of patterns and colors-- red, lavender, and orange together feels very current. Doesn’t this feel Rachel Antonoff-esque to you?

Mood.

Ok this is giving me all the quilted, applique, cecilie bahnsen, ulla johnson, romantic vibes that are sprouting up right now!!!

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secondlookblog · 5 years

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Shari Lewis of PBS’“Lamb Chop’s Play-a-Long” is My Spring Outfit Inspiration

If you are slightly order than I am, or if you are my age but your childhood media consumption was limited to the select vhs that your mother picked for you at the public library (hi mom!), you might remember Shari Lewis as the host of the PBS show “Lamb Chop’s Play-a-Long.” Shari was a master puppeteer and ventriloquist, which was completely lost on me as a child since I believed that Lamb Chop (pictured below) and her friends Charlie Horse and Harry Dog were independently animated. In researching this post, I re-watched some of the show and, okay, Shari did win 5 emmys, but HOW HAS THIS MASTER ENTERTAINER (AND COMEDIAN) BEEN COMPLETELY WRITTEN OUT OF OUR CULTURAL CONSCIOUSNESS? She’s basically the female Mr. Rogers, except she has actual skills (puppetry, ventriloquy, singing, dancing, comedy) and no tear-jerking blockbuster documentary or revered place in media history. The answer starts with “W-O” and ends with “M-A-N,” to give you a hint.

Shari’s outfits on the show totally indulge the “kindergartener” aesthetic popularized by Man Repeller & their peers as of late, while still also being at times delightfully old-ladyish (amazing how the distance between kindergarten and old lady aesthetics is actually fairly collapsed). There are biiiiig 80s sleeves on the blouses-- 80s blouses are having a moment and a half right now. The colors are bright and happy, and I am widening my eyeballs at them as if they were a happy light to cure myself of my seasonal depression. Most importantly, her personal style is heavy on the pink, which as we know is a requirement for us here at @louisa_margarita (casual instagram plug).

Big pink polyester sheer blouse with rhinestones and an ultra decadent shoulder bow, thankyouverymuch.

This is what I mean about the big sleeves! And the rainbow color! I will wear with my vintage levis because what will I not wear with my vintage levis??

Okay I WISH I had this in color bc this is a tie-dye people!! The tie-dye wave is still cresting, imo, and this top is reminding me of the For Good Luck turtlenecks that are out and about lately.

Miranda Hobbes green two-piece, crop-top, pajama-chic, mono-CHROME. Shari PREDICTED 2019.

More pink, more froth, more ruffles, more sleeve, and also this neck collar tie detail on the blouse is going to be a trending look I’m predicting.

This is reminding me of uniqlo and also @clothesandpizza just bought this shirt (in black but still).

You can’t tell in this pic, but these overalls are a mainstay of Shari’s looks on the show (another important detail: she is a total outfit repeater on the show and the representation is Important), and they have a Keith Haring-inspired design on the front pocket. But chose this pic because we are focusing today on blouses, and I am loving the stripes.

Love this blouse, too. And the suspenders with the high-waisted trousers and belt are another Shari staple that I find very chic.

Where to shop this sweater? Also I was babysitting last night and I took a pic of the baby’s stripey sweater because I liked the colors, thinking the photo might come in handy if I learn to knit in the next decade and want to recreate!

Ok finally millennial pink. Shari loves a monochrome look. Check the glasses, too. Just love to end on a strong note!!

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secondlookblog · 6 years

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Oscar & Susan

Writer and critic Susan Sontag had photographs of five authors hanging above her desk: her muses Marcel Proust, Simone Weil, Virginia Woolf, Walter Benjamin, and Oscar Wilde. Sontag begins her most famous essay, “Against Interpretation,” with an epigraph-- a quote from Oscar Wilde.

In “Notes On ‘Camp,’” Sontag writes that despite Wilde’s sartorial proclivity towards “old-style dandyism,” “His attitudes suggest something more modern. It was Wilde who [in his writing] formulated an important element of the Camp sensibility-- the equivalence of all objects . . . Wilde was anticipating the democratic esprit of Camp,” a democratic spirit where common, mass-produced, even vulgar objects can be celebrated and enjoyed.In fact, Wilde’s fashions (minus the stockings) were considered quite avant garde for their time, and actually predicted men’s fashion decades ahead of its time. Wilde clearly appreciated and loved details, suggesting that “a doorknob could be enjoyed as a painting,” and adorning his dress with signature accessories. In Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young, Wilde writes, “One should either be a work of art, or wear a work of art,” and that’s not even my favorite quote of his on style: “Looking good and dressing well is a necessity. Having a purpose in life is not.” Get that framed, why don't ya.

Susan Sontag, on the other hand, wore the basics like no other bitch. She sometimes accessorized, often with a scarf or occasionally with necklace, always with the stripe in her hair, but hers was the domain of a dark trouser, a tasteful, ever-functional sweater, and a leather boot. Dandy she was not, but don’t you dare suggest she didn’t know style.

The similarity, though, is in the frankness and ease with which they wear their clothes. They adopted signature pieces and wore their clothes without any anxiety. Neither Sontag nor Wilde were too smart to enjoy clothes. We know that Sontag admired Wilde’s writing, but I like to think she admired his style as well. The proof is in the pudding! And by pudding I mean the photos below.

Not to start with a killer or anything, but yes, Mr. Wilde is rocking a cape, a bow, a wide-brim hat, and a lob (ok, kind of) all in one look. This man is at a level eleven and is 110% stunting, and I can only aspire to one day dress myself with this level of confidence and swagger.

Ok, so fine. She’s missing the cape and that hat. But look at that bow!! Susan has such an effortless way of accessorizing the basics, yet making the accessory...look like a basic (which is the way accessories should look in order for one to be considered fully pulling-it-off).

So yes, Oscar is a dandy (see: shoe bows, smoking jacket), but it’s his expression and pose here which remind me so much of Susan (who is the antithesis of dandy). He’s making those bows and toggles look casual af because he’s completely at ease. This is the man who wrote “To be natural is such a very difficult pose to keep up” in An Ideal Husband, but ya wouldn't think it from looking at him.

Um, tell me these two weren’t separated at birth. Susan eschews all of Oscar’s frills, but you can’t say that woman doesn’t know style. NOBODY *clap* WEARS *clap* A BASIC *clap* LIKE *clap* SUSAN *clap.* Look at those boots! Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

This is Susan’s version of Oscar’s statement smoking jacket. Still a basic. But imbued with her effortlessness and eye for quality. Demonstrating an Oscar-like ease.

#pensive #returnofthesignaturesmokingjacket

Look #2 of this leaning-on-a-wall shoot. Velvet, this time. Black silk stockings. Looking like he was born to rock this fit.

Can you spell insouciance? (Trick question, I had to look it up). Susan looks like she brought exactly one outfit on this vacation, but in the best way possible. Both Oscar and Susan look like they know wtf they like, and they wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything else. And in this case it’s a polka dot scarf and the sexiest leather boot. Wall leaning!!!

Who the fuck, I ask you, looks this at-home wearing a bear? He’s daring you to come at him.

Oh look! Susan owns the same jacket!

Oh wait, I think it’s actually this one. #susanhasfuntoo #stoptellingwomentosmile

Ok now we’ve moved into the territory of just good old nineteenth century fashion porn.

What is with Susan and the perfect scarf? It’s magical. She looks like a 1930s vagabond. Oscar would be proud of that bold hat.

They say Oscar would carry a hat in his left hand even if he didn’t plan on wearing it. Look at that necktie.

I would like to wear a sweater as well as Susan does.

A cardigan this time.

The hat. I’m sorry.

Literally you cannot tell me that this is not the sexiest outfit made out of completely unsexy things worn with an incomprehensible amount of ease.

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secondlookblog · 6 years

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The Eerie Fashions of WWII Europe

I discovered some of these images while I was doing visual research to costume Caryl Churchill’s play Far Away, a dystopian vision of a world fragmented into factions, with every aspect of the environment both human, animal, and elemental at war with each other. These images explore European women’s fashion during World War II, when the Blitz bombings required that people wear gas masks when out in public, resulting in an other-worldly clash between the routine and the apocalyptic. Fashion quickly caught up, and a handbag which included a respirator was issued for the discerning woman who didn’t care to carry her respirator in the typical cardboard box with a string. The siren suit, a front-zipping jumpsuit which could be quickly put on over pajamas or a nightgown should the bomb siren sound at night, became popular. Though men’s style siren suits were similar to a traditional jumpsuit, women’s styles were more figure-flattering and fashion-forward, while children’s suits were often knitted and adorably elfin.

What draws me to these images is their distinct ominousness; the way in which the obvious crisis of mortality has been seamlessly folded into the comings and goings of everyday life and repackaged as a commodity. I’m intrigued by the retro-futurism of the siren suits, which turn the women who wore them into a hyper-stylized blend of a manual laborer, fighter pilot, and biohazard cleanup team. Here again we see the fashion world rushing in to soothe the consciousness of a woman in danger of being ripped out of bed in the middle of the night by a bomb threat by selling her vulnerability to her as an opportunity to showcase her personal style and taste. Capitalism to the rescue again! But I take their point. To don a piece of clothing provokes an innate emotional response; the right outfit can feel like a supersuit, and if that’s what these women need, then bring on the designer siren suits.

In these images I sense a prevailing attitude that appearances must be kept up no matter the circumstances-- life goes on! Stripped of their context, though, they make for a disorienting and dystopian sight, speaking to our chilling capacity to adapt to ignore what is right under, or on, our noses.