CHEAP CHIC is back!

OK. I just copied and pasted from the publisher's website. Anyway, THIS was the book we used to pass around the vintage clothing store where I worked. THIS was the book that taught me about COST PER WEAR. THIS was the out-of-print book that was going for big bucks on Amazon.  Did you read this book back in the day?

The Ultimate Fashion Bible CHEAP CHIC Is Back in Print!

40th Anniversary Edition -- With A New Foreword by Tim Gunn

CHEAP CHIC

CATERINE MILINAIRE & CAROL TROY

• Imprint: Three Rivers Press
• On sale: 9/1/15
• Price: $16.00
• Pages: 224
• ISBN: 9781101903421

CONTACT:Rebecca Marsh
212-572-2544
rmarsh@penguinrandomhouse.com

With a new foreword by Tim Gunn and hundreds of timeless tips and tricks, the ultimate fashion bible CHEAP CHIC is back in print.

“I think it’s terrific.” –Diane von Furstenberg, of the original edition of Cheap Chic

Before there were street-style blogs and ‘zines, there was CHEAP CHIC by Caterine Milinaire and Carol Troy. Originally published in 1975, this little book about personal style sold hundreds of thousands of copies in its first iteration and was an international hit. Decades later, it continues to inspire designers and attract fashion lovers, gaining a reputation as a cult classic.

Back in print and with a new foreword by Tim Gunn, the fortieth anniversary edition of CHEAP CHIC: Hundreds of Money-Saving Hints to Create Your Own Great Look (Three Rivers Press; Trade Paperback; $16.00; On Sale September 1, 2015) is both a fascinating fashion artifact and a timeless style guide. It was one of the first fashion books to show photographs of “street style” intermixed with couture.

Whether you’re a lover of designer labels or a master thrifter, CHEAP CHIC is about cultivating your personal style on any budget.CHEAP CHIC covers all the basics, and provides advice for stocking up on must-have items such as T-shirts, denim, exercise gear, and one-of-a-kind couture pieces. There’s a reason that classics – like a good pair of leather boots or a navy blazer – never go out of style, and CHEAP CHIC is proof of their staying power.

Astonishingly relevant forty years later, CHEAP CHIC provides great practical advice for creating an affordable, personal wardrobe strategy: what to buy, where to buy it, and how to put it all together to make your own distinctive fashion statement without going broke. It is the original fashion bible that proves you don’t have to be wealthy to be stylish.

CHEAP CHIC also includes interviews with fashion icons like Diana Vreeland and Yves Saint Laurent, along with beautiful vintage photos of stylish celebrities from Greta Garbo to James Dean to Cher. The model on the cover, swinging from the logo designed by Bea Feitler, is Jerry Hall.

CHEAP CHIC provides excellent tips on thrifting, layering, and more – readers will even learn how to make a bikini or tie a headscarf properly. Packed with style ideas, shopping tips, and ways to develop your unique look, CHEAP CHIC is a go-to for fashion inspiration.

A Wonderful Book You Might Not Have Heard Of

There are good books and there are great books and there may be a book that is something still more: it is the book of your life. If you’re quite lucky, you may at some point chance upon a novel which inspires so close a kinship that questions of evaluation (Is this book better than merely good? Is it some sort of classic?) become a niggling irrelevance. Luck has everything to do with it. For the sensation I’m describing has its roots in a poignant, tantalizing feeling that this marvelous new addition to your existence, this indelible Presence, has arrived by serendipity. Anyone who cares seriously about fiction eventually will get around to The Brothers Karamazov orMadame Bovary or Pride and Prejudice or Moby-Dick or Don Quixote, and if you’re somebody whose closest literary attachment is to a book of this staple sort, the satisfaction you take from it will not be graced by the particular haunted feeling of good fortune I’m talking about; you will have, instead, the assurance of knowing that your keenest literary pleasures were preordained. One looks differently on the book of genius that, even in a long bookworm’s life, one might never have stumbled upon.

This is from Brad Leithauser's introduction to Independent People by Halldor Laxness.  Ive been meaning to recommend a few books people might not have heard of (and to elicit recommendations for books I might not have heard of). 

Like Leithauser, I picked up Independent People by accident, though not, as he did, on a hiking trip through Iceland. No, more prosaically, I picked up the book at a library sale. I had never heard of it. I was enticed by the publisher (Vintage Books) and the remark by Jane Smiley on the cover: I love this book. It is an unfolding wonder of artistic vision and skill--one of the best books of the twentieth century. I cannot imagine any greater delight than coming to Independent People for the first time. 

While you are reading it, you might wonder what makes it so great. It took me a while. Often, I felt like I was trudging through this long book, much as the main character trudges through life. All will become clear on the last page.

 An interesting sidenote: The novelist Ann Patchett opened a bookstore in Nashville. 

In an Atlantic article, she mentioned that she did not like the name--Parnassus Books--suggested by her partner-to-be. She had always fantasized about owning a bookstore called Independent People--"after the great Halldor Laxness novel about Iceland and sheep." 

Well, in honor of Patchett, I'm not going to link to Amazon! Buy it from an independent bookstore or do the frugal thing and check it out of the library. My library doesn't own a copy, but they would buy one if I requested it. I really should as a service to other readers in my area. 

Do you know of any books you might never have heard of?

Farewell to Thredup and Others

Thank heavens my semester is starting up soon! I want to return to thinking about the beauty of literature and how best to convey it...

Meanwhile...

Last spring, I wrote some positive things about the new and newish resale sites. I even have another positive post that I never got around to publishing.

Just as well: the bloom is off the rose. Twice has been purchased by Ebay. Luckily, I had used my credit, but I witnessed a mad scramble among those with credits to use up.

Tradesy has gotten very expensive. Most of the items seem to be listed by professional resellers with access to outlet stores. I have no problem with that, but the prices are generally high.

Thredup: The worst for last? The site announced a lowering of prices last spring. As far as I can tell, the brand I like--Eileen Fisher--is about 50% HIGHER than it was last spring. I did buy one thing recently though: skirted leggings. I paid the $6.00 shipping fee on top of the listed price.

The thing is: I ALWAYS wear an S in Eileen Fisher. The item I bought was listed as an S. It is an EXTRA SMALL PETITE. That's two mistakes. I am probably not going to return and pay the ridiculous restocking fee. So look for these on ebay one of these days..

I emailed and await their response. I expect the typical customer service: you are welcome to return for credit blahblahblah. But I doubt I will order from them again. In fact, like the Swedes in Beowulf I have a long memory. So I will add Thredup to the list of brands and stores that I don't buy from. 

I think this is a message from the universe to USE WHAT I HAVE. OK. I'll try to listen.

Have you used (as seller or buyer) any of these resale sites? Have you had any excellent experiences?

A Public Service Announcement from William Blake

So many hurt feelings and so much festering anger in our lives.

Never Again: A Story to Read

Last summer, my family met up in Belgrade. Miss Em had been teaching English on a Fulbright in Novi Pazar , Serbia. It was an emotional trip for me. My mother and her family had passed through Belgrade in 1938 on their way to the United States from Vienna. In Belgrade lived one of my grandmother's sisters, who had married a Serbian man, Nicky Petrovic.

We met one of our few relatives there: Ildi Ivanji, the widow of my mother's first cousin George. Amazingly, she still  lives in the same house once owned by Nicky and Julchi Petrovic (my grandmother's sister). Though somewhat decrepit, it is an elegant home with still elegant furniture.

 Ildi is in her 80s. She had a distinguished career as a journalist and writer. She was imprisoned  in two concentration camps as a child, Terezin, which had a large population of artists and children, 90% of whom died there, and Bergen-Belsen, where Anne Frank died. Her parents--both doctors--were shot by the Nazis in mass killings.

 Ildi's brother Ivan Ivanji, also survived the war. He too was in two concentration camps. He is quite a distinguished writer and was Tito's translator. 

We met Ivan and his wife at Ildi's house. Communication was difficult because he speaks German and a number of East European languages, but not much English or French, the languages of our family. 

Ivan is a survivor of Auschwitz, whose liberation is being commemorated today. Little of his writing has been translated into English. I found only a very short piece, which is autobiographical. It doesn't read like a translation and is both beautiful and painful to read. Please read Games on the Banks of the Danube.

Upscale Designer to the Rescue! Thanks, John Rosselli!

One of my major bad habits involves reading shelter magazines while sitting in my messy house. One enters a pastoral world, an enclosed space that makes, in the words of William Empson, author of Some Versions of Pastoral, "the complex into the simple." Kind of like the characters in Shakespeare's As You Like It trooping into the Forest of Arden, eventually returning to the "real" world to remake it. I guess that means I should clean up after reading a magazine.

I had an idea a while back to clip frugal ideas from these magazines. Of course, most of the frugal ideas aren't very frugal for those of us in the middle class. I did clip one, however.

The featured luminary is John Rosselli, who sells elegant goods in a New York City shop. His idea IS frugal and it pertains precisely to my "sofa issue" recounted in my last post.

Does John Rosselli have new slipcovers made? Does he reupholster? No, he does not.

It’s been years since I’ve recovered a sofa. That’s because I have dogs. I simply wrap chairs and sofa cushions in fabric or in Indian cotton bedspreads. Or buy a sheet that’s the same color as the sofa, wrap it around the cushions, and throw it in the wash when it gets dirty.

THANK YOU, Mr Rosselli. Image from his website. Love the socks!



And thank you, Mr Empson. Image from New Directions website.

In case anyone is wondering

I am back from a most amazing journey. Beginning in Brussels and Paris, then on to the Balkans: Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia. I can hardly begin to process what I experienced there.

And--while overcoming the jet lag from a 30 hour return trip--I finished the final volume of Proust. That too has been a journey--more than a year of reading, more than 4000 pages.

Thanks for commenting on the posts that appeared in my absence. Much appreciated, though I could only respond in my head.

One of the places we visited...

Wisdom from Iceland

While I was cleaning up (sort of) in preparation for our trip, I came upon a postcard I picked up in the airport in Iceland. It was free (though food--except for children--was not included in the ticket cost. UGH).

There were a lot of different cards, but I picked the one with the frugal sentiment:

Everything is hay in hard times.


For more wisdom from Iceland, I recommend a wonderful book, which I would never had heard of had I not picked it up for a pittance at a book sale. Interestingly, in the introduction to the book, Brad Leithauser talks about how this is a masterpiece that most people have never heard of.

It IS a masterpiece. It is sometimes slow going, but the very end makes the journey worth it.

Non-Financial Accounting: Time Regained

I am beginning to recover from the end of the semester. I like every part of my job except grading. The worst part is assigning grades. I have a headache from the start of finals week till grade turn-in. Even after, since I get numerous sad and/or mad emails from students--only two so far, but the numbers may grow.

I am close to achieving a life goal: to read all volumes of Proust's "A La Recherche." I am on the last volume--"Time Regained"--and have 432 pages to go. It is a difficult read for me. My reading style (fast) does not coordinate well with Proust's complex sentences. Sometimes I can read only a handful of pages before stopping. Can I read 432 pages in two weeks, when I will go on vacation? I hope so.

The thing about reading Proust is that you forget what you've read almost as soon as you read it. My in-house expert, Mr FS, says that is to be expected. I asked him what to do when I've finished. He said "Start again." He's been doing that for over forty years.

Is anyone else reading a long and difficult masterpiece? I have many more on my list. Time is running out.

Grading, Grading: Grossly Material Things

I sometimes think that as there are stages of grief, there are stages of grading.  Sadly, I often forget this and experience the stages anew each semester. Grading is a difficult task, at least for English teachers, who grade essays and papers and don't just run some multiple choice exam through a scantron machine.

First stage: irritation. Why do so many students hand things in late? Why do so many students hand in bunches of loose sheets. I have more than 100 students: try dealing with all that paper!!!
Second stage: anger. Why didn't those students listen? Why didn't they do the reading? Why didn't they read my email?
Third stage: empathy. This is evoked by all students, but most especially mine. I used to teach at a private college. In 1988, the median income of student families was $80,000/year. I now teach at a state college, where many students have their own families, jobs, and serious money issues. Not to say that my affluent students didn't have emotional and other problems. My current students have those too. But they also have financial issues that are often overwhelming.

So as always, frequent meltdowns. One student--a mother of 4--had her husband ask for a divorce right before finals (I recommended the counseling center and gave her a hug). Another student broke down and mentioned that a relative had been a victim of horrific violence (same response as to student above).  Another student sent an email about a severe medical problem that would make her late for the final. She wasn't supposed to drive, but ended up driving herself since no one else was around.

And those are just the students who tell me what's up. Most do not. Yes, I know that students will lie about disasters for various reasons (though the ones mentioned above are all true events). And that doesn't even account for students working 30 or more hours a week to support themselves, while they are supposed to be full-time students.

I read that one value of reading literature is that it helps us develop empathy. Click the link to the left for an array of articles on that topic. I have always been a reader and, of course, I've been teaching literature for many years now. And, teaching at my current place of employ, I am reminded often of Virginia Woolf's wise words, which remind us that material things can keep us from doing what we're supposed to be doing.

I asked myself; for fiction, imaginative work that is, is not dropped like a pebble upon the ground, as science may be; fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. Often the attachment is scarcely perceptible; Shakespeare’s plays, for instance, seem to hang there complete by themselves. But when the web is pulled askew, hooked up at the edge, torn in the middle, one remembers that these webs are not spun in mid-air by incorporeal creatures, but are the work of suffering human beings, and are attached to grossly material things, like health and money and the houses we live in.

Destressing While Grading: French Lessons

Could anything be more dispiriting than reading research papers which are a pastiche of copied and pasted primary and secondary sources? And the sources are found--sadly--on sites with names like schmoop and gradesaver. Every now and then, the sites present dubious information (like the "fact" that Shakespeare was depressed about the closing of the theaters and so wrote sonnet 29. Or the "fact" that  clowns and fools  are markers only of comedy. Really? Only? Isn't there a fool in King Lear?) Enough! My mission in life is to develop assignments that help the students learn to read the material. Alas, I am required to assign traditional research papers in certain courses, assignments that were developed before EZ COPY PASTE (should I trademark that?).

So, to take a break, I am playing with Duolingo, the language learning site I first read about on Frugalshrink. How I wish I had had this before. I last studied French around 40 years ago. One kind woman we met in France told me that she could tell the language was in there, trying to get out.

I hope so. I don't know if I could learn a language from scratch on this, but I am tearing through the lessons and will hit the more sophisticated and difficult Foreign Service lessons later.

 Today I even had to translate a frugal saying.

Acheter mieux, jeter moins.

Well sort of frugal. Could one also say Acheter moins, jeter moins? Je crois que oui.

I am so happy! Back to the grind.

St Patrick's Lost and Found: Geaux Saints

As we await our certified letter's redelivery, we continue to suffer dental stress and distress. How about St Patrick's Day (and the traditional New Orleans parade the Saturday preceding) as a stress-reliever? Celebrations were marked by things lost and found, but the stress of the lost was far outweighed by the de-stress and delight of the found. This is turning out to be a year of saintly interventions: I can now add St Patrick to St Anthony (the prayer of a thrift store customer to St Anthony led to immediate recovery of my grandmother's bracelet.) As the signs and tee shirts of football fandom proclaim in New Orleans:

THE LOST: The New Orleans St Patrick's Day parade is huge and noted for its throws: in addition to the usual beads and flowers, spectators vie for cabbages, potatoes, and carrots. So exciting! A frugal parade! Unfortunately, the parade was running rather late and Mr FS and I had to head home before the big floats with the cabbage-givers rolled by. Not to worry: we had Frugal Son in attendance. He wanted cabbage for his homemade kimchi, which is not a traditional Irish recipe. But Poor Frugal Son. He had a bag of seven cabbages. He walked a few steps away for a few seconds to say hello to a friend. When he turned around, the bag was gone. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

THE FOUND: As our group of four crossed Magazine Street en route to our chosen parade spot, I felt eyes upon me. I looked into the eyes of a young man. We were locked in a stare. Finally, he mouthed "Dr Frugal???" I ran over and he gave me a hug, reminding me that he had taken classes from me. I asked him to remind me of his name and he said "My name is Josh, but you always called me another name, which you said suited me better." As we walked away, I retrieved my memory from the file cabinet in my brain. Josh was a psychology major who took one of the dreaded (to many students) required literature courses. He was very smart and more interested than most. He fell in love with Paradise Lost and always vowed he would take a Milton course if it was offered while he was in school. A few years later, the course was offered and--lo and behold--there he was. He held his own with the advanced English majors too.

As we walked back from our stint at the parade, we came to Magazine Street once more. And there he was again. He came over and said "I always loved you as a teacher." And I said "I always loved you as a student." Another hug and then I remembered. I said, "Isn't funny? I always called you PATRICK."

LOST AND FOUND: A few years ago, I was whining in this very space about how I wanted a second Hermes scarf. Amazingly, a blogger with a beautiful spirit sent me one and, also amazing, it arrived on my birthday. The scarf was designed by Kermit Oliver, the only American to design Hermes scarves. When you read about him and view his artwork, it is clear that he too has a beautiful spirit. In addition to gifting the world with remarkable images, he has suffered tragedy beyond my efforts to process. Any powers of empathy I possess are not sufficient.

This scarf has come in handy. I wear it when I teach Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, whose plot hinges on the gift of a green scarf. I also wear it on St Patrick's Day. And when I looked for it in my scarf area, IT WAS NOT THERE. I looked and looked. Even though I am a certified slob, I always keep my two Hermes scarves in their place. This one is especially valued because of the giver and because of the artist.

I suffered through several hours before and after work of looking in various unlikely places. Then I found it. It had slipped from its spot (HOW???), crossed to the other side of a small closet, and ended up next to Mr FS's socks. Oh, how I hugged that precious piece of silk to me! Just like poor Sir Gawain, for whom, unlike for me, taking the scarf was a sin.

I'd say that in the LOST AND FOUND of St Patrick's celebrations, I have received much more than I lost. Frugal Son mentioned that the mom of one his friends might give him a few cabbages from her parade stash. So we may have kimchi after all.

Baking Sweet Potatoes and Peppers to Keep Warm

I am sure our hardwired frugal efforts will elicit either chuckles or exasperated eye rolls. After all, Mr FS and I are getting close to normal retirement age and we retained our jobs while witnessing the elimination of a few programs. We have not gotten raises in many years, but still, we are more than OK.

So tell me, why did I balk this morning when Mr FS--usually the more stoical member of our household--suggested we turn up the heat? It is warmer outside than inside. We could not simply open windows, because it is very humid out there.

Mr FS and I were wearing our normal chilly house garb: regular clothes topped off with--for me--a fleece jacket and--for Mr FS--a down vest. Isn't this what everyone wears indoors?

Finally, I hit upon a solution: baking the cheap sweet potatoes and reduced for quick sale bell peppers we had. I can't even figure out how many levels of frugality this is. We didn't turn on the heat. Turning on the oven heated the house, WHILE cooking--and thereby prolonging the lifespan of--cheap for Thanksgiving sweet potatoes and a lovely melange of orange and red bell peppers reduced to around 30 cents a piece.

Why do I even think about such things? I COULD be reading Proust. Actually, I AM reading Proust, having finally, after many failed efforts, made it to the middle of the third volume. However, I can only read a few pages a day, before mental fatigue sets in. But frugality--either hardwired or habitual--produces no such fatigue for me.

Also, I am reminded of Amy D. of Tightwad fame. She considered the question of whether one can be too frugal. As she considered her darned sock--even though she could darn well buy a new sock--she realized that the darned sock made her happy. She opined that asking whether one could be too frugal was akin to asking whether one could be too happy.

How's this for an incongruous duo?

More Alice Munro Love: The Beggar Maid

I've read everything by Alice Munro--newest Nobel laureate--but probably the first story I read that simply blew me away was Royal Beatings. This was in the New Yorker. I stole some time from my graduate studies (not much time for recreational reading in grad school) and read it over and over and over. Later, I discovered the story in a book of interlocking stories called The Beggar Maid. I was at my first year in a "real" job and the book rep let me pick 5 books FOR FREE! I was so excited.

I still have my yellowing copy of that book. Somewhere. As the subtitle indicates, the stories center on Rose and her stepmother Flo. But the character of Royal Beatings who is most poignant is Rose's father, a poor working man, taciturn, abusive, and yet with a beautiful sensibility. Rose hears him recite lines of poetry as he works. One--the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces--is from Shakespeare's Tempest. This is easily findable nowadays with Google. But when I read it in grad school, I was thrilled to be able to identify it myself. I was such a serious student.

I Love Alice Munro

Alice Munro won the Nobel Prize for Literature! You can read about her in lots of places. You can--as of this writing--get some of her books from paperbackswap.com. You can--again, this may change--get her books used for supercheap on Amazon (as of this writing, the book pictured below can be had for a mere penny plus shipping). Or frugal fans: go to the library.

Here's what I love about Alice Munro, whom I discovered in a borrowed New Yorker as a college freshman: she is a wonderful, wonderful writer, but not at all difficult to read. And because she writes short stories, anyone can find a bit of time to read her.

I am someone who reads the Brothers Karamazov for fun. I even wrote about it. But it is a huge time investment, not to mention an emotional one. Same for another group of favorites: the late novels of Henry James.

I often say that the hardest type of literature to find is something that is good--very good, excellent--but not too intellectually or emotionally draining. I loved the title story in this collection. I read somewhere that a movie is in the works.

Second-Hand Shopping, Eileen Fisher: Thoughts on Virtue

I'm still in a daze from the end-of-semester stress. Usually I emerge into a period of lesser stress, but this year we are emerging into closing on Frugal Son's house, a major stress-event unto itself. One de-stressing event: the return home of recent grad Miss Em. Miss Em and I celebrated her arrival with a visit to the TWO Goodwills in our area. What a treat! Also, having Miss Em comb the racks with me is like having a clone.

And the frugal gods were with us. As we walked in, I said to Miss Em, "Find me something from Eileen Fisher." We didn't, but we got a few nice things. This was the seldom-visited-because-farther-away outpost that is opposite the entrance to an upscale gated community.

We were sated, but decided to stop at the lower-level shop on the way home. Miss Em came charging up after a few minutes: she had found THREE Eileen Fisher pieces. They were all together on the rack (same donor--thanks!). I investigated and found TWO more. Now we are even more sated. We divvied up the EF and decided to swap after a year. And now we have to donate even more excess to make some space. Miss Em--unlike me--is good at that.

We were feeling pretty good. I've been reading (can't remember sources--sorry) that second-hand shopping is the most virtuous--in terms of environmental impact and--post-Bengladash building collapse--in exploitation. So we were not only frugal but virtuous: can't beat that!

But how virtuous are we? After all, the fact that there were FIVE Eileen Fisher pieces donated at once--all very nice, in good shape--meant that the donor has even more. Also, we noted that many of the EF pieces were made in China of Italian yarn. Does EF supervise the factories? Are the savings in labor reflected in the prices? EF has a section on her website outlining various virtuous categories: made in USA, eco, Fair Trade, and so on. Does any item fall into all the categories? I'm not criticizing--just wondering. After all, the clothing is expensive for me, even on sale. And I wonder if my purchases make a difference or if it would better to buy something cheaper and donate the difference in cash to Doctors Without Borders.

And as for second-hand shopping: is it all that virtuous or am I just trying to justify my cheeepitude? If the item was made in China in bad conditions, does its virtue component go up as it cycles through the secondhand market? I keep thinking of an interesting moment in Paradise Lost. When Adam is thinking about falling in Book 9, he wonders if his act will be less guilty (it won't--spoiler) because the the fruit is "foretasted." He's wondering if--and hoping that--the sin will be diluted by the fact that it was already tasted. Second-hand sin, anyone?

"The Shirt" by Robert Pinsky

Many thanks to Janice, of viviennefiles, for reminding us of the true costs of what we wear.

I am remembering fondly the little ILGWU tags in clothing from my vintage days.


The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams,
The nearly invisible stitches along the collar
Turned in a sweatshop by Koreans or Malaysians

Gossiping over tea and noodles on their break
Or talking money or politics while one fitted
This armpiece with its overseam to the band

Of cuff I button at my wrist. The presser, the cutter,
The wringer, the mangle. The needle, the union,
The treadle, the bobbin. The code. The infamous blaze

At the Triangle Factory in nineteen-eleven.
One hundred and forty-six died in the flames
On the ninth floor, no hydrants, no fire escapes--

The witness in a building across the street
Who watched how a young man helped a girl to step
Up to the windowsill, then held her out

Away from the masonry wall and let her drop.
And then another. As if he were helping them up
To enter a streetcar, and not eternity.

A third before he dropped her put her arms
Around his neck and kissed him. Then he held
Her into space, and dropped her. Almost at once

He stepped to the sill himself, his jacket flared
And fluttered up from his shirt as he came down,
Air filling up the legs of his gray trousers--

Like Hart Crane's Bedlamite, "shrill shirt ballooning."
Wonderful how the pattern matches perfectly
Across the placket and over the twin bar-tacked

Corners of both pockets, like a strict rhyme
Or a major chord. Prints, plaids, checks,
Houndstooth, Tattersall, Madras. The clan tartans

Invented by mill-owners inspired by the hoax of Ossian,
To control their savage Scottish workers, tamed
By a fabricated heraldry: MacGregor,

Bailey, MacMartin. The kilt, devised for workers
To wear among the dusty clattering looms.
Weavers, carders, spinners. The loader,

The docker, the navvy. The planter, the picker, the sorter
Sweating at her machine in a litter of cotton
As slaves in calico headrags sweated in fields:

George Herbert, your descendant is a Black
Lady in South Carolina, her name is Irma
And she inspected my shirt. Its color and fit

And feel and its clean smell have satisfied
Both her and me. We have culled its cost and quality
Down to the buttons of simulated bone,

The buttonholes, the sizing, the facing, the characters
Printed in black on neckband and tail. The shape,
The label, the labor, the color, the shade. The shirt.

"Surprised by Joy": A Sad Poem

The subject of this poem is Wordsworth's daughter, Catherine, who died very young.

Surprised by joy - impatient as the wind

Surprised by joy – impatient as the wind
I turned to share the transport – Oh! With whom
But thee, long buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind –
But how could I forget thee? - Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss? – That thought's return
Was the worse pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
That neither present time nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.


For a nice explanation of the poem, see this essay in The Guardian. Here is a bit of that piece.

This sonnet activates a series of "pangs": the moment of delight, the desolate realisation that the one person with whom the speaker wants to share it is irrecoverable, the pang of guilt that the beloved child could have been forgotten, and, finally, the remembered moment of desolation. The natural event, the source of the joy, un-described but beautifully left to our imaginations, is quickly erased. Nature, for once, fails the poet. The sonnet seems to travel a considerable distance, though it turns back on itself to look again at the moment of anguish, "when I stood forlorn,/ Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more." It blossoms early and vividly but it appears to be prematurely concluded, or, at least, rapidly transformed from immediacy into memory.

Joyce, Plato, Karma, Purses

I once wrote a post titled Frugality and Destiny, wherein I wondered if my destiny is to be super-frugal and there's no escape. I am once again thinking that may be true.

Recently--in honor of my big birthday coming in 14 months--I decided to buy a handbag. Not a super expensive one, but a medium one. I am a teacher, so middle-class, and have never bought a new bag. How weird is that?

So, like the narrator of Araby (great story by James Joyce about the quest for beauty and the disillusionment en route), I set out on my quest. Only mine was through the internet. Eventually, I ordered 4 bags, planning to leave Miss Em with the final choice, since she is the decision-maker of our family.

The other day--needing a break from the often dispiriting labor of processing final exams--I headed to Goodwill. Unlike the narrator of Araby, who finds that Araby (a bazaar) is not what he thought it would be (an exotic, exciting place), I am never disillusioned with Goodwill. I love it! Everyone is equal: you find what you find.

Most handbags sported by the shoppers are--let's face it--fakes: L Vuitton, Gucci, and Coach. In fact, one reason I would never buy a real bag by LV is because everyone would just assume it was fake anyway, given my reputation for frugality. And most of the bags on display are fakes too.

On that recent trip, among the many fakes and free bags with purchase (ugh--Estee Lauder, stop cluttering up the universe with free bags) were two bags: they were copies of two of the Michael Kors bags I ordered! The Kors bags, in turn, were inspired by even more expensive bags by Hermes. A copy of a copy of a copy. Hello Plato! (In honor of the many students who use these cheater-websites, here is a link to one of the worst)

These bags--and others--were being snatched up with glee by the shoppers. I had an image of sporting one of my four candidates, only to be asked if I got it at Goodwill in the shopping frenzy. Kind of deflating.

Then I wandered by the tote bags. There I saw a Baggallini tote. We recently got Miss Em a small suitcase by that company (at Twice as Nice, a great consignment store in Alabama). The tote was OK. I realized it would serve my needs. I need a bag to carry to class with files of papers in it. It wasn't too bad looking, though I would prefer a solid color to the gray/black zebra-ish print I got. It was $2.99, way less than the fake bags on the special-priced rack.

So should I thank the forces of Karma for bringing me an inexpensive bag that will serve some of my needs? Or is it just a reminder that frugality is, indeed, my destiny?

Twixt Virtue and Love: A New Purse??

A STRIFE is grown between VIRTUE and LOVE;
While each pretends that STELLA must be his.

That's by Sir Philip Sidney. The lines just popped into my head, as lines of poetry are wont to do. Was I thinking about grading final exams? No, I was taking a daydreaming break. I was thinking about my new handbag!

So, the strife within me is between virtue (frugality) and love (not physical desire in this case, as it was for Sidney, but for NICE STUFF). That strife is why my blog is often conflicted. I love frugality and even wish I were of the cut WAY back on stuff mindset (like many of the frugality bloggers) but I do enjoy getting things now and again. Even if I don't need them.

So, the purse. I realized last year that I was getting near a big birthday (2014) AND that I had never bought a new handbag. I've gotten them from thrifts and from my mother's donation bags. So I thought I would buy one for my 2014 birthday. Then I decided to get one this year. This is not really frugal since I have lots of handbags from the above sources.

For a few mad moments, I thought about getting an iconic bag of one name or another. But I noticed when I saw these bags carried by various stylish women--here and in France last summer--I did not feel that frisson of desire. Thank heavens for that.

So I started looking at midrange bags, more befitting my midrange life and definitely midrange salary. I now have three bags to choose from: all bought from Nordstrom at between 40-60% off. Since I must resume my grading in a bit, I cannot post pics. But you can see two of the candidates on the blog UneFemme. Pseu has such good taste. (The two are the Astrid and the Candace. The Astrid, probably unfortunately, is in a python print which looks like something Carmela Soprano might carry. so maybe not for me. The Candace is black).

I await the homecoming of my daughter, Miss Em. The rest of the family is of the genre INDECISIVE. fortunately, Miss Em did not inherit this trait. So we all wait for her visits and await her decisions. She's always right. (OK. She was wrong once.)

I got the bags from Nordstrom and will return the losers. Even at 40%-60% off, these bags are a splurge for me. So, not really frugal. Every time I deviate from the frugal path, I fear that I will never return.

I'll let you know what Miss Em decides. She's due for a visit December 23. She may tell me to return them all.