I snapped this photo when I was waiting at the doctor’s office. I was somewhat surprised to find a beautiful book of photographs from British Vogue (one of my favorite magazines) in the waiting room, but then again, it was a fancy dermatologist office—for the record I was there for an annual skin check.
It’s a 1932 photograph of the actress Loretta Young taken by Edward Steichen. I knew it was Loretta Young, because I grew up watching old movies with my Aunts when visiting them in Texas, and Loretta Young was one of their favorite actresses. What struck me about this photo was what she is wearing. The white T-shirt, black pants and white men’s style oxford is very of the moment minimalist chic—think the fall collections of Celine, Stella McCartney and Chloe.
This return to minimalism (not that it ever really went away) makes me happy because when it comes to fashion, I am a bit of a serial minimalist. Not, mind you, in that I have just a select few pieces of clothing hanging in my closet—although that would make my husband happy and my savings account healthier. My minimalist—with an edge—tendencies are in the way I put together an outfit. I often dress monochromatic (black or sometimes gray), I own few pieces of clothing that have patterns, and most of the time I limit the amount of accessories I wear at once. (If i stack a few bangles on my arm, the necklaces come off, and vice verse).
That’s not to say I haven’t flirted with finding my inner embellished self. This has led me to experiment with mixing patterns (the few I own), excessive layering, and piling a couple of chunky necklaces around my neck. It’s just every time I do it, it doesn’t quite feel right. On me. And while I envy those who can—and do with fashionable flair—I just can’t. Which probably has to do more with not wanting to draw too much attention to myself than anything else. And that just might be a topic for therapy. Preferably with a doctor who has glossy fashion books in the waiting room.