On Glamour for Fashion Week, but What Does that Mean?

What do I know about fashion, glitz, and glamour? Not much these days, but I care about my appearance. I live in Colorado where casual defies formal attire. My friend, Sherilyn wears the latest trends and bought me a flashy metallic scarf for Christmas. I couldn’t imagine how I would wear it.

A scarf like one in the Michael Kors collection

This is Fashion Week in New York City where all the 2017 fall lines are being unveiled. I worked retail many years ago and imagined my boss sitting at a runway show while making notes on the latest styles. Attending one is on my bucket list.

Twitter hosted the Michael Kors live fashion show Wednesday morning. I clicked on it and went full screen HD. With ten minutes remaining before it started, attendees found their seats and chatted. I felt like I was there rubbing elbows with the likes of Blake Lively and Anna Wintour.

As the cameraperson moved through the large room, superimposed phrases appeared. I didn’t think to write them down. One said something about fashion and glamour. I understand fashion, but what the heck does glamour mean, exactly?

I conjured an image of my mother getting ready to go out for the evening. Tightening her lips, she applied lipstick in the bathroom mirror. Makeup from a bottle of Revlon evened her skin tone. Her bright violet eyes popped with eyeliner and mascara. A fabulous new dress would be worn for dinner out with my dad and their friends, most likely a Vogue dress sewn on her Singer sewing machine. She may have worn a matching coat. She was the most beautiful woman I knew and still is.

Was being glamorous more easily understood? Celebrities. Lifestyles of the rich and famous. Being pampered, chauffeured, and treated like royalty. A bit cliche, perhaps.

I had to look it up.

According to Merriam-Webster, Glamour means: A magic spell. An exciting and often illusory and romantic attractiveness.

I was dead on.

Fashion Week is an unveiling of designer’s collections created so we can feel glamorous. I know the feeling of wearing something that makes me feel more attractive. It’s illusory alright. Not so sure about romantic.

Maybe the first experience girls have of glamour is in the story of Cinderella. With a magic spell, she is transformed from sooty, dirty housemaid into lovely enchanted princess. No one could take their eyes off her including the prince. Maybe that’s why some of us consume the latest and greatest fashions. To feel like a princess, even if it doesn’t last or is an illusion, is still a dang good feeling.

In fifth grade, I needed a dress for Confirmation and found the one of my dreams at Gimbels. My mom frowned on the price, but had me try it on anyway. She studied the French seams, the lace, and the unusual square cuffs that hung over my hands. Then she bought similar purple velvet fabric and duplicated it on her sewing machine. When I wore it that night, I received so many compliments and lots of attention. I felt glamorous. I’m not sure the nuns at Queen of Peace were as in love with my dress as I was. Too much leg!

my-purple-dress

I think it all goes back to that magic spell. While watching the Michael Kors show, I studied the fabrics, the colors, the metallics, the cut, and the flow. Inspired, I filed these mental notes away for next fall. Then all eyes fell on the last model. She sashayed around the room wearing a black mini dress layered in full-length fringe. We were simply spellbound.

Glamour isn’t only for the rich. It’s about finding a style that reflects who you are. It’s about how you feel when you wear your clothes. Some of mine date back decades, but I think I have an eye for fashion. I keep the timeless garments that boost my confidence.

That said, look at what Michael Kors tweeted after the show…

Look familiar? Hmm. Maybe it’s time to rethink my wardrobe and find something new to wear with my scarf. Thank you, Sherilyn! Then I’ll go through my closet and freshen it up (toss out tons of old clothes) after I study Vogue, Glamour, and Instyle magazines.

It’s time to feel glamorous again.

Are you into fashion trends? Do you wear clothes from decades ago? When was the last time you felt glamorous?

Related post: In Defense of Rankings, Yoga Pants and just Going Naked!

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And Our Flag was Still There!

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I had smiled and hugged my kids, then sent them out the door to school on September 11th. What happened while I cleaned up the cereal bowls still brings me to tears today. Alone in my kitchen while watching the Today Show on a small television, I witnessed mass destruction broadcast live. When the second plane crashed into the tower, my heart became gripped in a kind of terror I had never felt before. Speculation soon became reality that we had been attacked.

My family, including my parents had been inside the World Trade Center only a few weeks before. My son Kelly must have had an intuitive sense about The Twin Towers. As soon as we arrived in New York City, he would frequently ask, “How far are the Twin Towers from here?” This was the first stop before a European vacation and we only had two full days to show my parents around. Because of Kelly, we taxied down to the financial district.

My husband and I owned a toy and school supply business and had traveled to New York City for Toy Fair many times. I had never been interested in the Wall Street area and had only traveled down there once.

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After taking many pictures of The Statue of Liberty, the six of us traipsed the couple blocks to the Towers. We hoped to take a tour of The Top of the World and get a bite to eat in their top floor restaurant. We had heard about the breathtaking views. As we entered the cool cream granite tiled building, we were impressed by the high ceilings and natural light. We gazed in disappointment at the line for the tour that wove up the massive stairway and around the second floor and imagined it would take hours. With so little time to see everything in the City, we opted for a main floor explore.

Then we spotted a sign for gifts and shops under the building. We walked down the stairs where independent vendors sold trinkets to tourists. My daughter, Courtney, and I were enthralled by one of the stalls, selling of thousands of charms. The salesman was young and had a thick head of black curly hair. With a broad smile, he asked many questions about life in Colorado. After a friendly exchange, we bought apple charms.

We climbed the stairs and emerged into the blinding sunlight. Then we bought a few items from vendors selling leather goods and socks on the sidewalk. These people thwarted the typical New Yorker stereotype. They were super nice.

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Weeks later, alone in my kitchen, the memory of the people I met at the Twin Towers came back to me. No one heard my screams when the second tower tumbled to the ground. My heart wrenched for the unsuspecting workers who came to put in their hours making cheerful conversation with tourists and for all who did business in the offices above. All these years later, just writing this brings tears to my eyes.

So many emotions rose from my heart that day. Sadness for the loss of all the wonderful people who died, but intense anger for the terrorists that changed so much for us in this country in one horrific day.

After sobbing for hours I rose from my chair and stormed down the basement stairs looking for our cache of American flags. We had just sold our wholesale business, but had sold flags along with many other sundry items for years. I found the electrostatic flags and pressed one onto my car window. I went back down the stairs and dug through cardboard boxes until I found a couple of small flags. I stuck them into the remaining flowers planted in the cement pots outside at the front entry. I smiled when I found our 4×8 flag. It still hung on a wooden pole from the last Boy Scout meeting. I took it off the pole and jerry-rigged the string through the grommets and hung it lengthwise on the front door.

I held my breath along with many other Americans, praying for no other heinous attacks. Every time I heard the breaking news theme music, my heart would race. I had to turn off the TV every time it repeated the video of the collapse of the buildings. This was the only time in my life, when depression took hold of me. I knew why I was going through this rough period and allowed myself time to grieve along with the nation. I think part of the reason it hit me so hard was experiencing the death of so many, live on TV, alone with no one to talk to until later in the day. It took me months before I could go to a sports arena or shopping mall without fear.

By the 4th of July, I sensed the strength of camaraderie as a nation who had put aside differences to come together like never before. When the Star Spangled Banner blared at the end of the concert we attended, we heard the very first shouts of, “AND OUR FLAG WAS STILL THERE!” I smiled and shivers ran up my spine. I was never prouder of our country or of being an American. I stood with my husband, two children, and fellow Americans as tears ran down my cheeks. We would endure.

All Photos by S. Lindau