Slip Ups

Way back in ’09, I wrote about my blasé attitude to panties. Three and a half years later, I stand by my minimalist approach to foundation garments: but with one significant caveat.

Slips – half and full – are the solid foundation on which the greatest of outfits are built.

I’ll admit, slips have a public relations problem. They’re what our nanas wear. They’re made from flesh coloured polyester. They’re perilously close to those awful spencers our parents forced us to wear under school blouses. In short, they’re not what you reach for when you want to feel pulled together, chic, and ready to kick ass and take names like a mo-fo.

But, I’m a style blogger, and therefore sartorially fearless. The above concerns? I laugh in their faces. I wear slips, in all their nana-ish, flesh coloured polyester, under-the-blouse glory. And, at least some days, kicking ass and taking names like a mo-fo is item one on the agenda.

(Other days, I consider it an achievement to not spill toothpaste on my shoes in the morning. But let’s not dwell)

The great thing about slips is that they perform radical wardrobe extensions. For instance, that woollen sweater you bought five years ago, wearing a little thin but oh so soft? A neutral slip, popped underneath, will allow you to wear that old favourite sweater to the office without giving your colleagues more information than they need about your bra. Or, a vintage dress, viscose rayon, with an unfortunate tendency to crotch creep like an overeager lover? A half slip will keep your dress where it’s supposed to be.

These uses are all fine and dandy, but my all time favourite application of a slip (half or full) is to facilitate floaty floral sundress and skirts on windy spring days. To live in the nation’s capital, in springtime, is to risk disgrace every time you step out in a light, full skirt – our breezes are, indeed, fresh. A slip, under your floaty florals, will mean that you can stroll about our blustery city free from fear of flashing unsuspecting passers-by. Should your skirt be blown completely up (this actually, no-joke, happened to me last month outside the Melbourne Building), all that will be revealed is your tasteful, modest slip.

Which comes in doubly-handy if you’ve had one of Those Mornings, and forgotten to put on your panties.

Spring Wardrobe Cleaning

It’s nearly the end of August. It snowed yesterday in Canberra (I hope you got to see it, it was beautiful). There’s a cold-as-charity breeze sneaking through the draught in the bathroom window. I’m still taking hotties to bed with me to keep me warm.

But, spring is coming.

I can feel it when the sun rises early enough to wake me in time to catch the 7.45am bus. I can feel it as I walk to the shops for the Saturday paper, smelling wattle mingling with smoke from the wood fires Canberrans are so fond of. I can feel it while I take a ten minute cuppa-and-novel-reading break from PhDing on the balcony to soak up some rays.

Most particularly, though, I feel it when I look at the disaster that is my wardrobe, because I can feel a cataclysmic Spring Wardrobe Cleaning a’coming.

I’m one of those irritating people who can’t make up their mind whether or not they’re a neat freak or a slatternly grotbag in matters of wardrobe maintenance. And, because I remain undecided, I vacillate between the two states, depending on particular external factors.

For instance, a rental inspection, a particularly special new clothing purchase, epic procrastination, and the first hint of warmer weather will turn me into a neat freak who sorts her (American Apparel) tights and stockings by colour and degree of ‘goodness’ (If you’re interested in the classificatory scheme? No holes = best; holes at crotch only = second best; holes in toe and crotch = third best; holes everywhere = laundry day only).

On the other hand, long days in the office without sunshine, winning gold at social decathlons (BREAKFAST! BRUNCH! HIKING! LUNCH! COFFEE! MOVIES! SHOPPING! DINNER! DRINKS! THEATRE!), and writing sessions where I’ve got my flow on, turn me into the sort of slatternly grotbag who interprets closing the wardrobe door, by even the narrowest of narrow margins, as a sign that folding, hanging and chucking out can wait for Another Day.

At present, the pendulum is well and truly making its home in slatternly grotbag territory. To give you an idea…in a two minute reconnaissance mission, the following items, hitherto missing and presumed lost, were recovered from my bedroom floor:
• one half of a very expensive pair of earrings;
• my favourite vintage Nike hoodie;
• Cath Kitson woolly wellington socks;
• a pink and cream Elle McPherson bra (I thought I’d left it at the gym); and
• countless bobby pins and hair elastics.

While this sounds dire - and, indeed, outfitting myself from my wardrobe mess for tonight’s decathlon events will be problematic - it’s actually a part of a well balanced seasonal cycle of building up, then slashing and burning, my wardrobe.

I know that in the next couple of weeks, as the sap of spring rises in my blood, I will derive a peculiar, seasonally specific, pleasure from spending the better part of a weekend cleaning, sorting, arranging, and redistributing no longer needed clothes, bags and accessories.

Just right now, though? I can feel the sun dipping below the mountains, and that cold-as-charity breeze tickling my bare feet. It’s time to put on my woolly socks, curl up with a book, and wait for Another Day. Given the pleasing signs that spring is almost here, I am sure Another Day won’t be too long in coming.

Sprung

Spring has sprung, people. The ten to twelve weeks of perfect weather in the Nation’s Capital are top on my list of reasons why I adore living here. Particularly because spring means it’s time to indulge in one of my favorite things…

Spring fashion. Oh my word.

See, I love me a bit of a mullet – an incongruous combination of business and pleasure. Spring fashion provides plenty fashion mullet moments. Bare legs and cardigans. Maxi dresses with boots. Sunhats on top, lacy tights on bottom. A hybrid, combining the best of your winter wardrobe with the cream of the early summer crop.

Spring is also a catalyst, enabling you change things up in your wardrobe. I know I only wrote about wardrobe clear outs a few months ago, but I’m all about change as soon as the first daffodils push their sunshiny heads forward. Whilst I didn’t get rid of too much this weekend just passed, spring cleaning my clothes was a great opportunity to get reacquainted with a few old friends. Vintage kaftan - I missed you. Let’s not leave it so long next time, alright?

Spring does have its downsides. Those first few cleavage sunburns, hay fever, and having to clear the winter undergrowth from my legs are not things I enjoy. But oh, to stroll bare-legged through campus on a sunny morning is worth all the sneezing, peeling skin, and razor burn.