#20 of Blogging with Friends
When I moved to Thailand to work in the NZ Embassy for three years, I discovered a nation where the women were impeccably dressed. When I’d been there as a student, I’d lived in my school uniform (it helped to identify me as “local,” someone who was not a rich tourist, someone who could not be ripped off when bargaining for goods!) or jeans and t-shirts. So when I returned as an adult, it was a little shock to the system to see the high standards the Thai women kept. They’d even dress up going out on the weekends, whether meeting for lunch, shopping in a nice mall, having afternoon tea in a 5-star hotel, or going to the beauty salon for a massage. So I felt I needed to maintain similar standards, to represent the Embassy and my country well.
Despite the fact that, ten years on from my student exchange, Bangkok had become quite cosmopolitan, it still catered to the tiny (compared to me) Thai women. So I couldn’t go to stores and buy clothes, and there was zero chance I could buy shoes. I found a tailor, and a shoe-maker. Oh, happy day! For the first time in my life, I had shoes that fit and were comfortable. It was bliss! (I actually got my sister’s wedding shoes made there – she sent an outline of her longer-and-narrower-than-mine foot, and we agreed on the design, et voila!) And I went to the tailor (which the Thai women did quite often too) to get blouses, suits, etc all made to order in my three year term. They were all simple, elegant, but practical, using good quality fabrics. I stayed away from a lot of the synthetics the Thai women wore (contrary to the common fallacy that people in hot countries live in cotton and linen), but took advantage of some of the lovely silks. A purple Thai silk suit was a favourite.
Coming home after three years, I found a different, more interesting, clothing market in New Zealand. My style hadn’t really changed – I still didn’t like fussy clothes, clean lines flattered my body, and with my height, I could carry off length. My return home to NZ saw me gradually put on weight, but my style stayed much the same. Then in the mid-90s, I started working at a new company, and met sometime-commenter Peony. And she introduced me to Penny. Danger, danger, Will Robinson! Let me explain.
Penny was a business woman who had run clothing stores in the past. She brought in clothes from selected NZ and Australian designers (and I remember a French brand too), and helped her clients put together a seasonal wardrobe. Appointments were free – she got a commission from the clothes we bought. So they were more expensive than I would usually buy. I thought I knew how to mix and match – frugality teaches you that – but Penny took it to another level. She didn’t have any boring clothes, and she didn’t mix and match them in boring ways. If I cringed at the price, she’d help me put together a group of clothes that could work together in multiple ways. “Throw on a cheap white t-shirt from a chain store,” she would suggest to complement a fabulous jacket, or outrageous skirt. She’d throw my favourite item on the floor, and then show how others would work together with it or with each other. Anything that was insufficiently versatile would be discarded. Unless I adored it. Penny taught me to have fun with clothes.
It helped that business attire at the time was just starting to change. And perhaps more that all my clients lived and worked overseas. So I had a couple of more boring suits that were great for travel and business; they were my “meeting clients” clothes. Most of my fun clothes were kept for NZ. I loved the surprise of asymmetric clothes. (I remember my father looking at an otherwise very simple, asymmetric black coat, saying, “but why?”) I discovered that I loved clothes with a bit of embellishment, a sense of fun or daring, but that weren’t too fussy.
I had a favourite beige cotton jacket that I would wear with black pants or jeans – it had very simple lines, but had pirate (it’s the only way I can describe it) white lace frills at one cuff and under the front panel of one side, and the other side was just plain. My girlfriends loved it. I loved it. My husband and male colleagues all shook their heads in puzzlement. I remember going to the supermarket once after work with my husband. He saw someone he knew, then looked at me, and moaned, “oh no, you’re wearing that jacket!” I could only laugh! That jacket pretty much represented my style in those years. Clean, elegant, but with a fun surprise. I had some great, fun, skirts and shirts, and over the years bought two winter coats that were just not available in most of the shops. Oh, I felt so good in those luscious coats! For about six years, I had fabulous fun with clothes, albeit tinged with guilt at the amount I spent at a single visit. But then I didn’t shop much elsewhere, so it probably all evened out. Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it! I had never before enjoyed clothes so much. Never before felt that I had clothes for every occasion. Never before felt that my clothes presented how I wanted to be in the world. Calm. Sophisticated. Professional. And a little bit daring and fun.
And I am in complete admiration of you! (When I was growing up, shoe shopping was as traumatic as clothes shopping—I could never find my size and I have very wide feet. Once I moved to DC, I began to find acceptably fitting shoes on a more regular basis.)
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Don’t admire too soon!
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This is wonderful – I love the story of Penny and how she taught you to have fun with fashion and find clothes that really worked well. It’s such a surprisingly tricky business, really. I’m always terrified to buy expensive pieces because what if I can’t find the way to wear them often? Having someone like Penny sounds amazing!
The shoes and tailoring – yes! I was really surprised when I started to order some “made for me” pieces over the years (yay internet) how much a difference it made in how nice the clothing looked on me. It’s really lovely to get pieces made that fit and that you feel great wearing.
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I’m impressed that you were able to just laugh at your husband’s (and other’s) reaction to your coat. I’ve bought things I love but if my husband makes a snide comment I never wear it again — or at least in front of him.
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I loved it so much, I just didn’t care! He was being conservative and downright boring.
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This is a post that begs for photos (although I guess that would diminish the effect of your wonderful descriptions!). So lovely to have a mentor like Penny!
One of the women’s wear shops near my office (a chain that’s long gone now) used to hold lunchtime seminars, showing how to mix & match the pieces in their collection. That was very helpful, and I bought a couple of skirt/jacket/blouse combinations from them that I’d seen in those show. Eventually, my office adopted “business casual” wear, and I rarely wore skirts after that, but I did enjoy some of those outfits!
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I miss wearing skirts! lol Especially in the winter.
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1) I love this post.
2) I love the idea of a purple silk suit.
3) I bought a cotton shirt at a market in Bankok in 1985. I wore that shirt a lot throughout our backpacking trip and it’s still hanging in my closet, all seams intact (although I don’t think it’s very stylish any more–I’m sure Penny would insist I get rid of it).
4) I need a Penny.
5) Whenever I hear “pirate” associated with clothing I think of (and chuckle at the thought of) that Seinfeld episode where he inadvertently agreed to wear a puffy shirt that resembled a pirate’s outfit for a television interview.
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5) I’ll have to find a clip of that!
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