Fall Look: Embracing My WASPY Roots
Eek. I can’t quite believe I just wrote that title, or that I’m actually going to do this. But determining my fall look was a no-brainer this year.Walking around Charleston in August I gazed upon a needle-pointed slipper and I knew: I was going to embrace my inner WASP.
I have tried to bury my roots for a long time. Those who know me well know how determined I have been to not have anything to do with from (physically and metaphorically) whence I came. I cultivated a passionate dislike for anything that smelled of my preppy suburban upbringing, including but not limited to:
- country clubs
- polo shirts
- middle-aged women in Lilly Pulitzer dresses
- cable-knit anything and
- the suburbs themselves.
Why? Because I was terrified that those elements would end up defining me, and determined not to let that happen. (laugh all you want, but those women in those boxy Lilly dresses fell victim to this a long time ago)
Its time. I’m pretty confident in who I am, and I know enough to know that I can color outside the lines when, where and how I choose. So we’re going there. Not in an unattractive way (Talbot’s), of course. Because this time around I’m putting my stamp on it, and not vice versa.
I’m going to channel the ole good WASPY days: the late sixties and early seventies. While free love was happening, people like my relatives were digging in in Shaker Heights, Pasadena, New Canaan and the like. My mom was at an all girls boarding school outside of Boston, wearing wide whale corduroy and wool sweaters a la Ali MacGraw in Love Story.
I’m not quite in high school anymore, so my inspiration falls somewhere between Love Story Ali and Vogue Ali. A little more sleek than clubby.
Behold my fall inspiration board
see you on the tennis court. Ta ta,