LBD. The little black dress. It is the staple of a woman's wardrobe. I remember when I bought mine first LBD. I was 15 and my mother and I went to Ann Taylor where I tried on dress after dress in search of the perfect one. I finally decided on a floaty chiffon number with a wide tie halter bodice and a bias-cut skirt. A couple years later I realized that my hips looked atrocious in bias-cut skirts and that A-lines were the only way to go. So I went to White House/Black Market and bought a simple A-line to the knee, strapless cocktail dress. That was only two years ago, but I have worn the dress countless times: with a black ballet wrap sweater over top to a funeral, with a starched white shirt to my CCM audition, with turquoise jewelry and shoes to the Dolly Awards, with black textured tights and my silver Manolo Blahnik d'Orsay knockoffs to a birthday party, over a white tee and gray leggings with my Manolo knockoffs to the theatre, etc. What is it about the little black dress that makes it so special? Is it the simplicity? After all, with such a basic, one can accessorize to suit practically any occasion. Perhaps it's the effortless style associated with the LBD. As the French discovered long ago, less can often be more when it comes to fashion. I believe that beyond any rational explanation for the LBD's extraordinary super powers, it is a certain "je ne sais quoi" that this dress has, and the way a woman feel when she wears it, that has made the LBD the greatest fashion do of all time (besides blue jeans, of course).


It is essential that the essential LBD be black. While colored dresses are lovely and can have quite a show-stopping, fresh, youthful look, they do not have the range of ability that the LBD has. Black is a "non-color", a lack of color; and this allows it to be relatively unpretentious and yet amazingly radiant simultaneously. It can be quite the chameleon. I spent a lot of my life, shunning the idea of a little black dress, because I was so in love with color. Color is happy and expressive. Plus, I am one of the few people on the planet who does not look particularly good in black. It's not an awful color on me, but it doesn't quite do much for my complexion (apart from draw the eye to the dark circles I inherited from my fathers side of the family, along with my breasts and my taste for expensive wine). While, I love my little black dress dearly, it remains one of the few black items in my wardrobe. One doesn't need a great variety of black clothing, because black is so versatile. I get by with three black dresses, two black skirts, black dress pants, black yoga pants, and three black tops: a camisole, a long sleeve tee and a short sleeve tee. The rest of my wardrobe is colorful. But black remains a time-tested favorite of fashionistas everywhere. Who could forget Audrey Hepburn's Givenchy LBD in Breakfast at Tiffany's or her all black, skinny pants and turtleneck ensembles in Funny Face and Sabrina?


While black dresses, black pants and even the classic black cashmere sweater are well-thought-of fashion hall-of-famers, it is black tights, a severely underrated wardrobe staple, that hold the highest place of honor in my heart. I have countless pairs of black tights, thanks to ballet lessons. They are almost all Capezio and mostly convertible style, so that I can wear them rolled up to just under the knee or all the way down and over the foot, depending on the outfit. When black leggings, came into style a few years ago, lead by the commendable Kirsten Dunst, I was thrilled. They are definitely one of those items (along with Ugg boots and boot-cut jeans) that I will continue to wear long after they go out of style. After all, fashion isn't about following trends, it's about expressing yourself and flattering your body. Inspired by Edie Sedgwick (1960s it-girl and muse to Andy Warhol), who wore Black tights everyday, I have begun to expand my mind to the possibilities of what black tights can be worn with. Of course they look great with black dresses, of which I now have three: the aforementioned strapless Ann Taylor, a sequin-bodiced, bubble skirted vintage piece from Casa Blanca (my favorite vintage store), and a fitted linen princess dress with white detail from The Mustard Sead (my other favorite vintage store). But beyond the LBD, black tights can be worn with colorful sweater dresses, dress shorts, denim mini skirts, and even floaty white summer dresses. Break the rules. Black can be anything. One might as well play around with it. Until next time.

Love. Evolve.

There is something wonderful and satisfying about borrowed or inherited clothing. I used to loath the hand-me-downs I got as a child (mostly likely because they were from my brother and I wanted to wear things a bit more girly than dinosaur sweatshirts and boys sneakers), but now, I cherish clothing that has come to me from a loved one. At this very moment. I am wearing my friend Marisa's burgundy American Eagle hooded long sleeve tee-shirt. I will return it eventually, but at the moment it is keeping me company on a ski trip to Canada. Marisa and I share clothes a lot. Last summer, a few close friends, Marisa, Rachel, Erin, Sarah and I spent so much time together and exchanged so much clothing that for months we were finding pairs of Urban Outfitters shorts or Forever 21 camisoles in the back seats of our cars and, seven months later, not all clothing has returned to its original owner.


Often clothes are borrowed, but occasionally clothing is handed down to keep, and this is very special. About a month ago my movement teacher Susan, a spunky modern dancer with a deep and soulful maternal love of her students brought in a bag of clothes she didn't need anymore and wanted to give the girls in my class. We took it up to the 2nd floor lounge of the dormitory and joyfully sorted through her cut up tee-shirts, overalls, and fuzzy boots. I now have two tee-shirts and a sweater of hers that I cherish as precious gifts. Wearing her clothes is like being hugged by her.


There is something personal instilled in clothing. I have friends who, after breaking up with their boyfriends, couldn't bare to return his sweatshirt, and friends who couldn't get rid of it soon enough. A person's clothes smell like them, they may be slightly molded to their shape, they express their personality. Far more than simply fabric, a piece of clothing can harbor memories, love, and warmth. In fact, one of my favorite books, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants was created around the idea of four friends sharing a pair of pants as a way of staying close over a summer spent apart. To share clothing is to share a very personal thing and it can be a beautiful, uniting act of friendship. Until next time.

Love. Evolve.
Celeste

I cherish the time I am able to spend pottering around in Joseph-Beth Booksellers above almost anything else. It is heaven to me. I can stay there for six hours and still not be ready to leave. I have. It was on such a heavenly excursion to Jo-Beth that I discovered a book called "What Not to Wear". The cover showed two 30-something women in simple but well cut clothing against a stark white background. It interested me immediately and in what may have been one of the most fortuitous moves of my young life, I opened it.


The introduction claimed that all women can look stylish if they know what not to wear, that looking good isn't about wearing the latest trends, but about knowing what does and does not suit you (maximizing your assets and minimizing your defects) and that while your best friends may not tell you about your fashion mishaps, Trinny and Susannah (the women on the cover who would soon become household names to my mother and I) are not your best friends, and they will. The contents of "What Not to Wear" consisted of chapters with titles such as "No Tits", "Saddle Bags", "Big Butt", and "Short Legs". I was intrigued. I immediately turned to the Chapter called Saddle Bags to see what these two bad-ass British fashion journalists had to say about my most loathed body part. I quickly learned that I should attach myself at the hip (literally) to the A-line skirt and that slash neck tees can draw the eye to my shoulders and make my hips appear more proportionate. I was in love.


Soon I was watching "What Not to Wear" on BBC America religiously. I was there following along and learning all I could as Trinny and Susannah styled the nation (that's the U.K., not the U.S.) one hopelessly mismatched housewife at a time. What I love about Trinny and Susannah's style is that it's all about using clothing to show off a person's natural beauty. It's about making the most of what the good Lord gave you. This show is about everyday women with imperfects bodies. It's not about dressing up super models. Trinny and Susannah themselves have average female figures that they are able to poke fun at and use as examples whenever the opportunity presents itself. Trinny has very short legs and a long torso, so she likes to wear dresses over pants (this make her legs look longer) or layer tee-shirts (to break up her long torso). Susannah has huge breasts, so whenever the duo is dressing a well endowed client Trinny likes to do a little squeezed tests to see who's are bigger. I delight at this incredibly forward European way of doing things. As an insecure and body conscious American girl I am envious of the way Trinny and Susannah talk openly about the female body with little to no reserve.


The absolutely delightful Englishness of the show is half the fun. I've learned all kinds of fashion related British idioms including trousers (pants), polo neck (turtle neck), vest (sleeveless tee shirt), knickers (panties), mutton dressed as lamb (an older women wearing teenage style clothing), and sloan ranger (I'm not exactly sure what it means but it has something to do with wearing pearls). Now, just a few years after my life changing discovery in Joseph-Beth Booksellers, I am happy to report that my Trinny and Susannah addiction has caused me to buy all three of their books and see every episode of their TV show. What's more, every morning when I pick out my outfit for the day I wonder what Trinny and Susannah would think of it. Until next time.

Love. Evolve.
Celeste