Beauty Review: Keys Soap Solar Rx Therapeutic Sunblock

There’s nothing beautiful about sunburn. And, let’s face it: When Midwestern college sophomores with bad dye jobs, Pink sweatpants, and fake Uggs sport a perfectly even, russet-brown fake-bake in the middle of winter, sun-bronzed flesh has lost its capacity to signify its owner’s membership in the leisure class. A tan no longer says, “I came in second in the club regatta.” Rather, it says, “I have a frequent-visitor punch-card at Tanfastic.”

Thank heavens for sunscreen. Given that I slather the stuff on year ’round, I was alarmed to read the Environmental Working Group’s report denouncing most bestselling sunscreens as basically worthless or potentially harmful (you can check out the EWG sunscreen database here). There has been some backlash from the manufacturers of these sunscreens, but I tend to believe a not-for-profit organization committed to using “the power of public information to protect public health and the environment” more than I believe cosmetic industry spokespeople.

So, I recently traded in my Aveeno sunscreen for Keys Soap Solar Rx Therapeutic Sunblock, the top-rated sunscreen analyzed by the EWG. It’s a physical sunscreen, rather than a chemical sunscreen. Its active ingredient does not deteriorate when exposed to sun, and, unlike a shocking number of sunscreens, it blocks not just UVB rays, but also UVA rays. The second ingredient—after zinc oxide—is shea butter, so it’s moisturizing, but it’s not at all greasy. I like the subtle herbal smell, too. And it’s vegan, if you care about that sort of thing.

Ted, Frances, and I have all been using Solar Rx for a couple of weeks now. It seems to be working, in that our skin does not appear to be either tanned or burned, and we’ve been out in the sun a lot. Frances and I both have sensitive skin, but neither one of us has had an adverse reaction to this product. You can read more about Solar RX here, and it’s available through Amazon, too.

Barely There Lip Color

Perfect red lipstick will always have a special place in my heart, but I have recently developed a fondness for the nude look. It’s especially nice with dramatic eye makeup, as it keeps the look from being overdone.

When it comes to understated color, Bobbi Brown is your girl. I have her awesome lip gloss in several shades. Brown is a rich, light earthtone. Buff is similar, but with a little bit of rose. Petal is a pretty, pretty pink. All these glosses have a nice sheen, a pleasant feel, and surprising staying-power for a gloss.

If you’re looking for a little bit of sparkle, try Stila’s always-lovely Lip Glaze in Apricot. The color is a very sheer and subtle and laced with superfine silver glitter. The scent is nicely fruity. I enjoyed wearing this gloss in the summer, but it’s versatile enough to have found a place in my cool-weather kit.

Lancôme’s Juicy Tube in Simmer was another summertime purchase that I have yet to put away. It’s a glamorous bronze with a sparkly pink punch. It’s as warm as its name suggests.

For everyday, wintertime wear, I recommend Neutrogena Moisture Shine Tinted Lip Balm in Fresh. It’s a pale beige with a bit of glimmer. It’s also very emollient, so I’m thinking it will provide excellent protection when the cold winds start to blow.

“Cosmetic Chemistry: A Brief Historical Survey”

BLOGGER’S NOTE It’s finals week at CMU, and I am busy studying for exams and working on my James Joyce term paper. While I am thus occupied, I leave you with excerpts from my education. Today’s offering is a passage from my Chem 101 project.

Elizabethan England

Egyptians were not unique in using lead as a cosmetic ingredient. Ancient Greek women used lead-based face paints, and similar products were used to create the lustrous white complexion seen in portraits from 16th-century England. It’s not altogether clear what the chemical compositions of these cosmetics were, but powdered cerussite (lead carbonate, PbCO₃) is one suggestion—certainly there was a product called "ceruse" in use at this time—while a cream created when lead is reacted with vinegar (impure dilute acetic acid, C₂H₄O₂) has also been proposed. Many Elizabethan pictures also show hair-loss characteristic of lead poisoning. In fact, court ladies were forced to shave their own foreheads to match the queen’s receding hairline, since the monarch set the fashion. This toxic compound also took a toll on the very face it was meant to beautify: ceruse ate pits into the queen’s complexion, and these blemishes inspired her to slather the mixture on even more thickly—which, of course, only made matters worse. The effects of lead poisoning continued to erode the queen’s beauty to the point that stylish ladies had to blacken their teeth as well as shave their foreheads. Ultimately, Elizabeth banned all mirrors from her palaces.

She’s a Total Velma

It seems I struck a nerve with my recent postings on girls who wear glasses. One commentator suggested that we reclaim Velma—the cleverest member of the Scooby gang—and use her name to signify a woman whose beauty and sexiness depend, at least in part, on her awesome intelligence. Thus, we might say, “That Tina Fey is a total Velma.”

I’m all for it. I have always believed that an ample brain is an asset, regardless of one’s gender, and that glasses are just another chance to accessorize. And, while I still put in my contacts when I want to slap on the liquid eyeliner, I must admit that my idea of glamour is, perhaps, slightly out of sync with at least some conceptions of sex appeal. Back when I was single and cruising the personals ads, I discovered that all sorts of guys cited Janeane Garofalo as their ideal woman, and I ended up marrying a man who listed Daria as one of his very favorite ladies. So, Dorothy Parker’s famous dictum aside, female four-eyes should know that Velmas are hot.

I Really Don’t Like This Ad

Even as a toddler watching Scooby-Doo on Saturday mornings I realized that Velma had a terrible hairstyle. This was the early 70s. I had long, flowing hair. My mom had long, flowing hair. Malibu Barbie had long, flowing hair. Marcia Brady had long, flowing hair. Wonder Woman had long, flowing fair. And, of course, Daphne had long, flowing hair. Velma—clearly—was tonsorially impaired.

Thus, I have no problem with Dove sweeping back the heavy bangs and introducing a playful flip. The new ‘do totally lightens up her face. No, what I have a problem with is the removal of Velma’s glasses.

It’s not just because I am, myself, a four-eyes (although I can’t deny that this fact contributes to my sense of pique). Rather, it’s also that glasses have long signified smarts, and this ad seems to suggest that female sexiness can only be attained at the expense of female intellect.

My friend Griffin, who sent me this photo (as you might guess from the graffiti tags, it’s a bus-stop ad, but this image has also appeared on television commercials) pointed out that, not only has Velma removed her glasses, but she’s also closed her eyes, and her hand is no longer making the thoughtful gesture of index-finger-to-chin; instead, it suggests an ecstatic—or vapid—kind of swoon.

I find this all rather bullshit. When I was very little, I identified with Daphne because she was so obviously beautiful in a princessy kind of way. But, as I grew older, I realized that my own gifts were more cerebral—less bluntly aesthetic—I learned to appreciate the smartest member of the Scooby gang. When a boyfriend suggested that he would cast me as Velma in a live-action version of Scooby-Doo (this was years before such a picture would come to pass) I was pleased and flattered.

Dove has launched something called The Campaign for Real Beauty. The ad campaign features big gals and women with freckles, and the website has forums on body image and related issues. This is all cool. But, still: if big gals can keep their curves and redheads can keep their freckles, why can’t Velma keep her glasses.

Stars Without Makeup

I didn’t watch Stars Without Make-up last night, but I did flip to it during the commercials on CSI. As I had suspected when I made my programming decisions for the evening, the Fox show was pretty crap—too much snarky cuteness and too much filler—but I applaud the concept of Stars Without Make-up.

Those of us who consume popular culture inevitably end up with a considerable confusion about the difference between reality and fantasy. For example, we look at a magazine and see a woman who spends hours everyday with a personal trainer, who has been coiffed and maquillaged by a team of professionals, who has been lit with exquisite kindness and who will be painstakingly retouched before her picture hits the newsstands, and we think we’re seeing an image of how women are supposed to look. Then we take a look at ourselves, and the comparison is not always pleasing.

I am—obviously—not the first person to describe this phenomenon, but it bears repeating, and it explains why I appreciate photos of famously beautiful women looking kind of shitty. Yes, there’s an element of schadenfreude to my enjoyment, but, mostly, it’s about that tiny, fleeting moment in which the sight of a pink, puffy, and rumpled Renée Zellweger or Madonna looking “like a worn-out, chainsmoking trailer park mom with a serious meth habit” inspires me to cut myself some slack.

THANKS TO NEWYORKISH FOR THE PHOTO AND VIVID DESCRIPTION.

My Favorite Lip Glosses of 2004: Runway by Smashbox

There are many ways to fall in love. You might, for example, experience the joy of finally finding your dream boy or girl, the precise person for whom you’ve long been searching. Or you might discover the wondrous delight of the surprisingly perfect partner—someone you never knew you needed until you found him, and now you can’t imagine how you ever lived without him.

The first time I tried on Smashbox Lip Gloss in Runway, I felt the latter sensation. This lip gloss completes me. It’s not an everyday kind of thing—it’s certainly more mistress than wife—but, when I do wear it, I have the awesome confidence and je ne sais quois that only a perfect lip color can provide. It’s an unlikely shade—a sort of chocolaty purple, deeper than any gloss has a right to be. It’s kind of punk-rock, kind of silent-movie glamorous, and it is absolutely my favorite lip gloss of 2004—perhaps my favorite lip gloss of all time.

I got it as part of a set, and it looks like Smashbox has discontinued it, but it appears to be available at Nordstrom. Get it while you can, ladies.

My Favorite Lip Glosses of 2004: Lip Shimmer by Burt’s Bees

A few weeks ago, Sarah Hand recommended the magnificent—and magnificently inexpensive—Lip Shimmer from Burt’s Bees. It acquired a permanent place in my makeup bag immediately.

I am crazy about this stuff. Rich with lanolin and cocoa butter, it’s very emollient, and peppermint oil gives it a delicious little tingle. It goes on nice and smooth, and the shimmer is charmingly subtle. I have it in Watermelon, but I’m definitely picking up another shade or two the next time I’m at my local hippie grocery store.

My Favorite Lip Glosses of 2004: Stila VIP Party Lip Glaze Set

I luv a set. It’s just so exciting to get a lot of something, especially when that something is as nice as Stila Lip Glaze. I like Stila because they get grown-up fun just right. Their products have a little pizzazz, but not too much glitter, and they are, in my experience, of excellent quality.

The VIP Party Lip Glaze Set includes just about every shade of gloss a normal woman might need, and enough variety to enchant even those of us who need more—drag queens, beauty pageant constestants, glamorous housewives, beauty addicts, etc. And, each gloss is paired with a similar color, so that you can prepare for a change of cosmetic mood and still travel light. This set contains two of my all-time favorite pinks, Watermelon. It also introduced me to a couple of new favorites: Black Cherry is a rich, deep, dark magenta; and Cinnamon is a lovely warm beige with just a hint of pink shimmer. Stila Lip Glaze is smooth, moisturizing, and long-wearing, and all the shades I mentioned are available by themselves.

My Favorite Lip Glosses of 2004: Smashbox PCH & Malibu Set

I am quite fond of Smashbox lip glosses. They have a nice, smooth, emollient consistency; they come in rich, interesting colors; and they’re long-lasting. That said, the Smashbox PCH & Malibu Lip Gloss Set is really a triumph of packaging as much as content. Three tiny tubes of gloss are nestled in the red-satin lining of a very smart little black-patent case. There’s a mirror on the inside of the lid. Really, it’s just so chic and snappy that it practically demands lip-gloss application at the dinner table or barstool. The colors are nice, too: there’s a delicate beige, a true red, a sparkly sheer.

I got this as a gift for my mom. She likes things that are tiny, and she loves stuff that comes with its own, customized containers. I don’t expect this to be something she uses every day, but I do expect that, on those special occasions when she does, she’ll really enjoy it.

Beauty Review: Stila Pink Ribbon Set

I luv it when buying something frivolous feels like a good deed. So, I purchased the Stila Pink Ribbon set in much the same spirit as I buy Girl Scout cookies and band-camp candy bars. This adorable wee collection of eye shadow, blush, and lipstick is definitely more satisyfing than the latter, and almost as good as a box of old-recipe Thin Mints.

I’m a big fan of Stila eye shadows: they have a nice texture subtle sparkle—more of an irridescent sheen, really, that’s fun and glamorously grown-up. Heather is a smokey, earthy purple—a must-have shade for fall, according to Lucky—and Diamond Lil is nice pale pink. The blusher is called Bloom, and it’s a bright pink—brighter than I usually go for, but cute if applied with a light hand. The lipstick, Anni, is a lovely sheer rose, a color that’s like nature, but better.

Altogether, it’s a very nice set, and, as you might guess from the name and the packaging, a portion of the proceeds of every sale goes to The Breast Cancer Research Foundation.

The Wedding Planner: Unmentionables

I bought a backless dress for my wedding reception. I don't know what in the hell I was thinking. I was, obviously, not thinking at all. Such is the splendor of this gown that I was rendered incapable of rational thought.

Had I been in my right mind, I would have realized that backless means braless, and I have not been publicly braless since I was twelve. Even my bathing suits have underwires. Without a bra, I might as well be naked.

One would think that my head would have cleared sufficiently to realize my error when I actually tried the dress on (it's from Bluefly, so I didn't have the chance before I bought it), but no. I was delighted with the way it fit in every way except through the bodice and, once again drunk on beauty, I thought to myself, "I just have to find the right bra." I said exactly the same thing to my mom and my sister when I tried on the dress for them, and they nodded—whether in agreement or the desire to placate me, I know not.

After having tried on mountains of lingerie—corsets, long-line brassieres, foam cups backed with adhesive—I can safely say that there is no right bra for this dress. I realized that it was time to give up hope when I found myself wondering how I might find a local beauty pageant consultant who would no how to tape breasts. So, having officially ended my search for the right bra, I have two choices: I can either find a new dress, or I can attend my wedding reception braless.

I'm really not sure which option is more harrowing.

While I usually have a good relationship with my breasts, this experience has pumped new life into my worst body-image fears. My aesthetic self-esteem, fragile at the best of times, withers away completely after sustained exposure to the fluorescent glare of department-store dressing rooms, and it would take a much stronger woman than me to feel fabulous while spilling out of heavily-boned foundation garments. Thus, the confidence I would require to be a braless bride was quite thoroughly ground out of me as I tried on bra after ill-fitting bra.

As for finding a new dress, I don't have the time, the money, or the emotional energy to begin a new search. And, I do truly love the dress I already have.

I really don't know what I'm going to do. I'm thinking that, for a few days at least, I'm going to ignore the problem. Ultimately, I'll probably resign myself to bralessness, and hope to achieve the moxie required to pull it off between now and the reception. Then, as I prepare for the nuptial cocktail party, I will probably add a festive, fortifying new step to my toilette. To my knowledge, gin has never been regarded as a beauty product, but I'm pretty sure I'll be throwing a flask into my makeup bag.

What to Read: Hope in a Jar: The Making of America's Beauty Culture by Kathy Peiss

Last night, while I was writing about The Swan for Bitch, I found myself thinking about an interview I did a few years ago. It was with an author called Kathy Peiss, and it was about her book Hope in a Jar. Peiss, a historian by trade, does amazing job of chronicling the business of beauty, from slightly shady medieval apothecaries to multinational cosmetic corporations. She traces the connection between witchcraft and maquillage, and she elucidates the generally ambivalent relationship between feminism and makeup. It's a fun read—one that entertains as it enlightens—and one that I recommend wholeheartedly to anyone who has an interest in the politics and social economics of beauty, and anyone who enjoys a really good cultural history.

Beauty Review: Orange Is the New Pink

It never occured to me to wear orange makeup until several seasons ago, when François Nars created a green and orange palette for Prada's runway models. The lipstick he used was an intense, matte red-orange called Heat Wave. It struck me as an interesting alternative to red, much as brown is an interesting alternative to black. It's a playful shade—red with a wink—but it's also a demanding shade. It doesn't complete one's outfit; one builds an outfit around it. It's not casual: it requires a buttoned-up, tucked-in, slicked-down look. I can only manage it about three times a year, but I enjoy it when I do.

It doesn't seem that NARS makes Heat Wave anymore, which is too bad, but the eye shadow duo that appeared on the same Prada runway is still available. It's called Rebecca, and it's a very nice combination: a leafy, golden green and a slightly shimmery apricot. The green is subtle and pretty, and it's one of my favorite eye shadows. The apricot is surprisingly dramatic, a grown-up version of a style I used to affect as a punk-rock teen: I would, on occasion, apply red blush around my eyes to create a look I'll call "Romantic undead." Photographic evidence from the era reveals that, at the very least, I got the second part right.

While I may never need another orange eye shadow, my experience with Heat Wave inspired me to experiment with other, more easygoing versions of that lip color. On a trip to Sephora last summer, I picked up Delux Beauty Sheer Lipstick in Angus. It's a wonderfully cute color: it makes my mouth look like I've been eating an orange Popsicle. I wear it when I'm feeling too sassy for pink, and too goofy for red. On the same shopping excursion, I also bought Bloom Solid Lip Gloss in Tangerine. It's a very rich, creamy gloss in an almost opalescent coral. It smells like vanilla

While cruising the local Marshall Field's, I discovered that Bobbi Brown just launched a lip gloss called Tangerine. This color is a little wild for Bobbi—her specialty is natural, intensified. Its very existence is a testament to the appeal of orange. I snapped it up as soon as I saw it. I am crazy about Bobbi Brown's lip glosses. The pigmentation is sheer but even. They have a subtle, lovely sheen. The texture is just right, and they last much longer than most glosses. I anticipate that I'll be wearing Tangerine a lot this summer.

On a recent visit to Target, I bought Sonia Kashuk Cheek Sheer in Summer Girl. It's a gel blush, pleasantly translucent. It goes on smooth, and it blends nicely. It is a highly unnatural color, so it should be chosen mindfully and applied with caution. I've only worn it once, to a bar, where its exuberance was tempered by dim lighting. I imagine it would also look good outside, on a magnificently sunny day.

Public Service Announcement: Kirsten Dunst's New Haircut

As I review the traffic reports for this blog, I can't help but notice that a lot of people get here by searching for things like "kirsten dunst new haircut". The top search result at Google is this Village Voice book review, which contains a brief analysis of Dunst's hair history, but no useful photos of the new do.

The second (sometimes third) search result is my announcement of my own Dunst-style tonsorial redux. This posting contains one photo helpful to those seeking to make this look their own, but, in the interest of serving those who need more—I know I don't let my stylist start snipping until I have photos or sketches that depict the desired haircut from at least three different angles—I thought I should share the results of my own pre-cut search.

The one photo I have posted is from a photo gallery for the Mona Lisa Smile premier. This gallery is one-stop shopping for all your Kirsten-Dunst's-new-haircut needs, and it comes to us courtesy of the superfans at kirsten-dunst.org.

You might also like to check out this Maggie Gyllenhaal photo gallery—at maggie-gyllenhaal.net—since Ms. Gyllenhaal got her punk nouvelle cut from the same stylist. In fact, she got hers first. (Sadly, I cannot remember the stylist's name, and I am weary of searching for it. Once again, I must ask myself: Why do I not save back issues of US Weekly? Why?)

Beauty Review: Sheer Lipstick

In a recent posting, I declared that I have renounced lipstick in favor of tinted lip balm. This is mostly true: Lip balm kicks ass during the winter, particularly when one is wrapped boots, cords, and a woolly sweater. There is, however, another option, one that offers both rich color and translucence. That option is sheer lipstick.

I'm a big fan of Stila Sport Clear Color in Plum and Red. Both colors are nice, basic shades that stay true. Clear Color doesn't have the staying power of lipstick, but it wears evenly, leaving a little pigment behind without any waxy dregs. Lip balm is, obviously, more moisturizing, but it doesn't offer the same density of hue. Clear Color has been my default lipcolor for a couple of years now, both for office drag and more glamorous situations.

I bought Trish McEvoy Sheer Lip Color in East Hampton kind of by accident. A business associate, impressed by the Urban Decay Rock Superstar palette I was using in the bathroom at work, turned me on to a dark but diaphanous lipstick from Clinique. On a subsequent trip to the mall, I tried to buy the recommended product, but those Clinique hos were totally disrespecting me. Seriously, they would not even look at me, and I do not know why. I mean, I was screaming "salaried," wearing an Ann Taylor suit and carrying a Coach hobo. What the fuck? On my last visit to the Clinique counter, I got into an argument over whether or not something that is "noncomedogenic" can, nevertheless, cause an unpleasant dermatological reaction. I'll tell you what: I am through with those lab coat-wearing bitches.

Anyway, the Trish McEvoy counter was about four feet away, so that's where I went. I have, since then, been thoroughly happy with this lipcolor. It's a little more emollient than the Stila Clear Color, and just a little bit shinier. It's not an everyday shade for me, but I like the combination of deep color and luminescence.

Cargo Lipstick in Nevis was, I believe, my first sheer lipstick. I bought it because Drew Barrymore wore it to the Oscars a few years ago, and I thought she looked sweetly pretty. More brownish-red than pink or burgundy, it's pleasantly earthy—much like Miss Barrymore herself. The texture is honey-like, bordering on lipgloss. It has, historically, spent more time in my makeup kit than in my purse, but it's been making its way into the rotation more often of late—whenever I want something rich but unassuming.

My New Haircut

So, I've been rocking my hair Jean Seberg-style for some time now. It's a classic look, and it's totally done me right, but I've been in the mood for a change. When I saw photos of Kirsten Dunst at the Mona Lisa Smile premier, I realized I had found my new haircut. I took a page ripped from US Weekly to my beautician, and, voilà: a whole new me.

I don't think this is going to be a problem. I mean, Kirsten and I don't usually go to the same restaurants or the same parties, and I haven't been to a New York opening, film festival, or major awards ceremony for awhile. However, if you happen to hear that she's pissed, please let me know so I can send her a basket of mini muffins or something.

MORE: Public Service Announcement: Kirsten Dunst's New Haircut

Beauty Review: Kiehl's Lip Balm in Hue No. 30G

So, I'm pretty much off lipstick. I mean, if I were auditioning for "American Idol" or making my debut in society, I'd probably wear lipstick. It would have been an absolutely perfect, plush red from Chanel before I found out that Coco shacked up with a Nazi during the occupation; now it would probably be the very similar, but slightly less opulent and therefore slightly less satisfying, Urban Decay Jezebel. If I needed something a little darker, a little more earty and mysterious, I would go with Lola creme lipstick in Paris. But, under ordinary circumstances, lipstick is just too much. I've become a big fan of gloss, but I'm finding that it just doesn't work for me in wintertime. With a comfy, no-nonsense, WASPy wool sweater, for example, super-shiny and possibly shimmery lips just look odd. With a fuzzy turtleneck, glossy lips make me feel like I'm back in junior high ski club, which is not an unambiguously good feeling. That pretty much leaves lip balm.

The greatest lip balm of all time is, of course, Kiehl's #1. A very nice Kiehl's employee at the East Village store turned me on to this product when I was stocking up on Creme de Corps, preparing for a move to Anchorage. In fact, when I told her I was going to be living in Alaska, she threw in the lip balm for free. I made it through an Arctic winter without ever experiencing chapped lips, and I've been a fan of balm #1 ever since.

Recently, Kiehl's introduced a couple of tinted lip balms, thereby offering a solution to my winter lipcolor dilemma. There are two shades. I have hue 30G. Straight from the tube, it's pinky-red. On the lips, it's incredibly subtle—like nature, but a little better. It's got a nice sheen, but it stops well short of glossy. It's wonderfully moisturizing, and it has the same protective powers as Kiehl's original lip balm. It is, in short, proving to be the perfect cold-weather lip treatment.

If you live in NYC, you know where to get Kiehl's. If, like me, you live in Ann Arbor, you'll find it at Bivouac on State St. Otherwise, you can order it from Kiehls.com.

I Like to Wear Men's Clothes

It's time to come out of the closet, as it were: I like to wear men's clothes. I've been fighting my menswear fetish for awhile, I think because unisex clothes—jeans, big t-shirts, sweats—are the default uniform of women who take no interest in how they look. I'm not talking about sporty gals with glowing skin and bouncy ponytails; I mean the kind of woman who can be seen at Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon, dragging several loud, sticky children through home electronics. I am never going to be a natural beauty graced with gamine athleticism, but I need to get over my fear that I'm going to look like a NASCAR fan if I wear chinos and a long-sleeve tee.

As much as I love the idea of sequins and marabou feathers, the fact is that I feel like I'm in drag when I dress up like a girl. I feel like I'm adopting a persona, putting on a costume. I'm so much more at ease in a pair of cords, an oxford shirt, and a jacket, and it's not just a matter of physical comfort: I just feel more like myself.

I do not, however, feel like a man, nor do I believe that anyone will mistake me for a man. I always have on something girly—lipstick, pretty earrings, femme fatale shoes. And I certainly don't look butch: My inspiration comes not from James Dean, but from Marlene Dietrich, Katherine Hepburn, and Jean Seberg The clothes I like best are informed by menswear, but cut for a woman: They accentuate my shape without making a big deal about it.

I believe the ensemble I wore on Thanksgiving was my ideal outfit: a beautifully tailored pair of pants, a perfectly fitted jacket, a soft satin camisole, and kitten-heeled mules. I think, in fact, that I might look more womanly in manly clothes. I certainly feel more womanly, as I feel more like myself.

From this day forward, I vow to embrace my masculine aesthetic, and shake my hips unabashedly even when they're encased in tweed trousers.