Back in the saddle

About 15 years ago, I had a bad accident while biking home from a friend's house. As I was riding along, my bike ran over what I swear was at least a pebble and hit it the wrong way so that the front tire stopped. I didn't, though, and flew over the handlebars, landed on my jaw, and skidded on it halfway into the street. Thankfully, there was no traffic, and although I was in bad shape my bike was fine. I was halfway between my friend's house and my house, so I decided to continue on home. Cars flew past me, and I saw people looking at me, then wincing when they saw the blood and scraping on the side of my face. No one stopped to help. My mom thought I had been in a fight until I explained otherwise. She took me to the emergency room, and somehow my jaw had not been broken, but lodged out of place. Because of the accident, my jaw still doesn't align quite right; the doctors said I have TMJ. However, it's not quite bad enough to warrant surgery, and they gave me a retainer to try to get my mouth fit back together properly. It helped and I do still wear the retainer, but sometimes the pain returns. Advil does the trick. (For those who are wondering, I was wearing a helmet.)

The real lasting damage is that I have never since ridden a bicycle, and have never been motivated to get back on, until now. New York is beautiful when seen from a bike, but it can also be a dangerous place for cyclists. Like any other city, there are plenty of idiot drivers, and a person on a bike is considered by most people to be not quite a pedestrian (and so does not have automatic right of way) but not quite traffic either (so they're expected to yield at all times to all things). Despite all of this, a bike is a great way to travel, providing freedom to travel without buying a subway card or a tank of gas, and it's good exercise besides. My sister just completed two triathlons, and since my man and I moved to a building closer to the park, he's been riding his bike more often. For these reasons and more, I decided it was time to get back in the saddle, and today was the day.

We went to Ride Brooklyn and rented a bike for me to ride for the day. It actually felt good to be back on a bike, and after practicing a little in a nearby schoolyard, we left to meet up with my sister and another friend to go to Red Hook and check out the food vendors. It was a great ride. I gradually got more comfortable, and I had never seen so much of the Red Hook waterfront as I did today. Since Ikea and Fairway landed in Red Hook, the area has gone through some major renovations, but remains largely inaccessible by subway. We rode past boutiques, cafes, art galleries and garden centers that I never knew existed and thought I might like to visit again. There was not much car traffic where we were, so I could relax and remember what it feels to tool around on a bike. I had a great quesadilla from one of the food vendors, and thought about how much easier it would be to come do this if I owned my own bike. All things considered, it was great, and I realized how much I'd been missing by not getting back on a bike.

The ride from there on out was different. We went down Clinton Street, where there are parked cars on one side of the bike lane and traffic whizzing by on the other. I started to feel claustrophobic and spooked about my abilities to maintain balance, then began imagining what would happen if someone opened a car door or tried to leave their parking spot, leaving me with no place to go but headlong into traffic. I got anxious and had to stop a few times. I biked on the sidewalk and that was easier, but obviously there are still plenty of obstacles like strollers, pedestrians, gates, etc. When we returned the bike, I was definitely done for the day.

For all of that, however, I do still want to keep riding. (There's a pink Electra cruiser which caught my heart and eye at the shop, plus it's on sale.) One of the central tenets for me of being a pinup is that you only live once. Just as there's no reason not to look and feel your best every day, there's no reason to let one experience, however tragic, hold you back from exploring. I figured that if I'm brave enough to look the way I want to look, and to be going after my dream of performing burlesque, then surely I'm brave enough to conquer my fear of a bicycle.

As I was practicing in the schoolyard, my man was working with me to get me in a comfortable place. A man and his son were there too, playing with a soccer ball. The son couldn't have been more than 4, and was in his own little world. I tried to stay out of his way, and the father tried to get him to do the same, saying, "She's practicing...bicycling." But, eventually, they left. The father went to say a few words to my man, who explained to him that I had been in a very bad accident and that this was my first time on a bike in many years. My man told me later that the father said he too had a bad biking accident and hadn't ridden since. He said that I was an inspiration to him.

Pinup Wakeup

Sometimes, people are surprised to learn that I haven't been super-feminine my whole life. Usually this comes up when someone sees me wearing jeans for the first time. Although I do own a couple of pairs of pants, they rarely come out of the dresser, emerging only for things like moving days or an extremely long flight (I hate flying, and tend to contort myself to try and get comfortable, which is difficult in a skirt and a tiny space). But the truth is that I used to wear pants almost exclusively. I've always loved getting dressed up, but pants were my first choice when it came to workaday clothes.

I think a lot of this has to do with my mother's influence. My mom has always been heavy, and her long, nondescript denim or twill skirts are her way of hiding her legs. She owns very little makeup, has kept her hair the same way for as long as I've been alive, and doesn't care for manicures, pedicures or facials. All of her clothing is functional, practical. Growing up, she was my example, and like most parents, tended to dress me and my sisters the same way she dressed herself, usually with very little in the way of frills or accessories. When I wanted to pick out my own clothes to wear and sought guidance about how to know what colors go with each other, she directed me to my older sister. She hedged when I wanted to learn how to shave my legs, and finally taught me only when I came home from camp one summer, having been mercilessly teased for being the only girl there who didn't shave. Not to be too cliché, but my parents never told me I was pretty or complimented anything about my appearance--a habit I may have picked up, with my man now pointing out to me that I never say anything about how he looks.

My resources became magazines like Seventeen, my older sister, my friends and people I saw on the street. To this day, I look at other women for the purpose of picking up style ideas and inspiration. However, let's be honest; I grew up in the Midwestern suburbs where Abercrombie & Fitch and Express were considered high fashion. By the time I graduated high school, I had learned enough about myself to know what looked good on me and what didn't. I was handy with makeup though I didn't wear much of it. My style then was kind of punky, which worked at eighteen. I went to college, studied theatre and joined a sorority, so I had my foot in the doors of both creativity and plastic preppiness, but I was still living in the middle of a prairie so clothes weren't too adventurous. In terms of style, neither were the people. My look grew up, but wasn't anything special.

Then, I moved to New York for graduate school, right after finishing college, and a floodgate was opened. In New York, it's somewhat easy to be anonymous, so if you try something and it doesn't work, no one will remember or notice it. Besides, there's probably someone walking ten steps behind you who is wearing something stranger. Nobody in New York had any ideas or preconceptions about who I was, so I could reinvent myself entirely if I wanted. Being a graduate student, I didn't have a lot of many to spend on clothes, but the freedom itself was exhilarating.

I met my man about six months after I moved to the city. He looked at me with fresh eyes, and could see someone who liked to play with clothes and makeup, but whose girliness remained closeted. He constantly made me feel like the most beautiful person in the room no matter what I was wearing, which gave me the confidence to branch out and adopt the nostalgic pin-up style I had always admired. I learned that being a woman is great, and it's okay to have fun with it. Looking my best suddenly equated with adding beauty to the world, a noble endeavor not only for the people around me but also for myself.

So here I am now, with no holds barred on dressing the way I want. When I was young, I was taught that Elvgren- and Vargas-type paintings were porn, but inside I always loved them and thought they were much more. Finally, I'm having as much fun as the woman with the wind up her skirt, proud to give us a glimpse at what's underneath.

Defining the pin-up

As I write here, one thing that question that often comes to me is, "What is a pin-up?" I think that it's easy to define a pin-up as just a pretty girl, and not take it any further than that, but in reality there's so much more.

I'm not looking to be a pin-up on paper (though I wouldn't turn down the offer), but my main goal instead is to be a pin-up in real life. However, it's not enough just to be pretty. My favorite pin-up artist is Gil Elvgren, and one reason I like him is because his girls have so much character. Of course they convey that sense of playful innocence we all love, but when I imagine meeting one of them in person, I think the Elvgren girl would be just as much fun to spend time with as she is to look at. She's well-mannered and treats others the way she wants to be treated. She dresses modestly, with class, but won't shy away from the happy accidents that allow her to show off those gams. She has a range of interests that stretch beyond fashion and domesticity; in fact, part of her power lies in the fact that when you look at her, you might initially write her off. Quickly, though, she proves you wrong--she's witty, interested in art, is an avid reader and also incredibly curious about everyone and everything around her. Even after she greaduated from college, she never stopped learning.

Back in the day when Elvgren was painting, it may not have been socially acceptable for most women to get involved in politics, but I imagine that his ladies are citizens of the world. They take seriously the ongoing fight for women's rights at home and abroad, and don't take for granted the sacrifices others have made before them. They're compassionate with others less fortunate than themselves, and play a role in their community that goes further than local gossip. They vote. They volunteer for charity.

I know perfectly well that back in the America of the 1940s and 1950s, when most of my favorite classic pinup girls were created, things were much different for women. They had a very different relationship with the world than we do, and what was pushing a boundary back then (like going out without a hat and gloves) is not given any thought these days. Relative to their era, I imagine that classic pin-ups were a little rebellious. I imagine a man might have been taken by surprise when he learned that there was so much more to the girl next door than just a pretty face and sense of style. I think it's incredibly important for any aspiring pin-up to remember that, for as much as she might fuss over her outward appearance, a girl's most compelling feature is always her character.

Favorite Things Roundup: September

My apologies that these posts seem to creeping in a little late. Working three jobs is hard! Luckily, I have little things listed below that have helped make my life a little easier...

1. Repro Depot

Remember those old oilcloth tablecloths that your grandma used to have? In my memory, the least likable thing about them was the pattern, which was invariably hideous. But they were great for Grandma when she had her three granddaughters in town to visit, because she could wipe up our messes from the oilcloth and be done--the alternative being constantly washing her fabric tablecloths.

Between my pets (who get on the table even though they know they shouldn't) and my man (who virtually needs a blast shield when eating), my tablecloths are a mess. However, I need them to protect our antique dining room table and to maintain my sense of personal pride at keeping a pretty table for my little family and our guests--but other oilcloths I've seen are hideous. I was thrilled, then, to find Repro Depot's selection of oilcloths and vinyls. I have the strawberry pattern for the summer and spring, and just got the apple one for the fall. They're backed with flannel so they're easy on my table, and in the case of these two patterns, wide enough that all I need to do is order two yards and put it on the table. There's no sewing required because the edges of the fabrics are already finished and won't fray. With shipping, they run just under $20, and they're far more unique than what you'd find for that price in most other places. And Repro Depot has lots of other fun fabrics out there for all your other pinup projects, so be sure to check out the rest of the inventory.

2. Cooler Weather

As I posted earlier this month, the cooler weather has been fabulous for lacing, and oh, how it blows up my skirts! But, it's so wonderful for other reasons, like that I get to start wearing stockings again. I can also indulge my deep and abiding love for coats and hats, both in the wearing of what I have and in drooling at the shop windows displaying them. As for my makeup, I am back to wearing loose powder, which never survived my perspiration in the summer. With all of these elements, plus the lack of mosquitoes and sweat, cold weather is my favorite. Yet there's one other part that deserves a section all its own...

3. Apples

Ever since I was just a little Kitty, I loved apples. Granny Smiths have always been my favorite, but at the moment I'm a Gala girl. I love their crunch, their sweetness, their juiciness, and I don't have to feel guilty for loving them because they're good for me too. I love apple ciders, apple juice, apple pie, apple crisp, apples in caramel or in peanut butter--okay, now we're starting to get away from the 'good for me' part, but the point is that this is the time for my favorite fruit. An added bonus is that, done correctly, you can look pretty damn foxy eating an apple (as with Ms. Gyllenhaal here). Keep the bites small, and channel the idea that you're eating something that has been frequently associated with sin. Fortunately for pinups, it's our kind of sin.

Back in business

With the fall in full swing, corset time is back! I am once again cinched up. Just another reason why I love the cooler weather. But with the return comes the return of some of my lacing anxieties--namely, corset care and visibility.

When I took off my corset for the warmer weather, I mentioned that my corsets would be spending their summer in rehab. Stays had popped through casings, and the friction of my clothes against my corsets was taking its toll. What I discovered was that my new best friend is extra-wide grosgrain ribbon. For any of you with corsets needing repairs, this is your quick fix. Grosgrain, also used sometimes as a seam binding, can be folded over the edge of the corset where the stays are coming out, and once carefully stitched into place, it's an effective patch.

Of course I'd rather get a new corset. Okay, I'd really rather get several new corsets. One of my biggest concerns as a tightlacer is people seeing the lines of my corset, and the extra layer of the grosgrain, though slight, doesn't help alleviate my concerns. I hope nobody looks at me and thinks that if they just do enough situps they, too, can achieve a 22.5 inch waist. They'd get frustrated, so I would really prefer if people could put it together and figure it out. But just as I don't want any other pieces of my underwear to show, I don't want my corset to show. And even with new corsets, it can be difficult to find one that is both effective and invisible.

My solution is to wear clothes that already have some weight to them, and that aren't skin tight. Of course I love my pencil skirts and pencil dresses, but I don't like feeling self-conscious either. It's an ongoing battle, which usually means that I end up trying to replace my wardrobe with clothes that I feel are better for keeping my secret.

In the meantime, it's not going to stop me from lacing. My man says it probably doesn't occur to anyone that I would be wearing a full corset, because most people don't think of them as options for everyday wear. I hope so. In the meantime, secret or no, it's great to be me again--laces and all.

Having an Audience

One thing that can be a little disconcerting about living as a pinup is all the attention one gets. I know what some would say to this--that they wish they got so many looks, or perhaps that this is conceit and vanity on my part--but I'm here to tell you that in any case, it's not easy having a constant audience.

I started modeling my everyday style after 1950s pinups about two or three years ago. At first when people were staring at me, it felt awkward. It feels like a cross between flattery and espionage, and often times I wondered if something hanging from my nose was the reason for the attention. By now, though, I've gotten fairly used to it. Little boys and little girls sometimes snicker at me on the subway, older women lean in and whisper together with their eyes locked on my face, and men's eyes travel me up and down. I imagine that some people like the look, some think it's exhibitionist, and at its worst maybe they think I'm a freak of some kind. Perhaps still others wonder if they're walking by a celebrity--after all, big sunglasses and hats are common props for disguise, and famous people are always so polished, right?

Here I am making guesses at what may be going through the
minds of the onlookers, because only a fraction of them actually say something. When they do, it's often to compliment the look as a whole or in pieces, and there have been some humorous ones too. I was standing on an escalator one day when a woman ran up it with great urgency to tell me that my seamed stockings were crooked. It was as though she thought I should stop right there, hitch up my skirt and adjust my garter among the other morning commuters. Another time, a woman asked me if I just came from one of the theaters, because do I know that I'm dressed entirely in vintage?

Unfortunately, yes, some of the comments are not welcome, but these are few and far between. I think this has to do with the fact that I dress like a lady, and my look commands that I be treated like one. No one has ever said anything so inappropriate to me that I started screaming at them on the street, no one has rubbed up against me or grabbed me. Generally I'm thanking someone who kindly told me that I look nice, or I'm spelling out the name of the website where I got my dress/stockings/makeup for someone scribbling on a piece of paper they dug out of their bag. Oddly enough, the reason I never pursued acting was because I didn't like being watched. Like I said, I'm better with it than I used to be, enjoy it sometimes and tire of it at other times. In the end, I hope that I'm one of many to inspire others to make classic beauty a part of their daily life. You only live once, and there's no reason not to look your best doing it.

Stockings by the Fire

It seems the perfect time of year to write about stockings. For most of my readers, it's starting to get chilly, plus there is the added allusion of stockings with Christmas. I'm sure that as in years past my mom will give me another few pairs of shitty socks which will make better cat toys than anything else, but if she were paying closer attention she'd know that what I really want are more stockings. Seamed or not, stockings are essential to completing the look of a classic pin-up, and they don't have to cost a fortune. Keep an eye out for 2-for-1 deals, and take care of them once you've worn them--I store mine in plastic bags so they don't get snagged or stretched by other items in my drawer, and I also wash them by hand. It's a bit of maintenance, but it's well worth it. A good pair of stockings can be almost as transformative as a great pair of shoes. For the uninitiated, here is a glossary of vintage stocking terms. (Note: Since stockings advertised as "stay-ups" rarely do in fact stay up, and because they are bad for circulation, I only wear and recommend stockings that require garters. Garters are another post entirely.)

There are about three different places I patronize when I require new pieces of hosiery, and each has their pros and cons. I can be found most frequently wearing thigh highs by What Katie Did. My favorite thing about stockings by What Katie Did is that they wear like iron. Occasionally they get a little run in the foot or the ankle, where there is the most friction, but I've never had that run extend so far past the foot as to render the stocking unwearable. I'm extremely clumsy, forever tripping over things and getting snagged on something or other, but these stockings are strong to withstand even my best inadvertent slapstick routine. In fact, the only reason I ever have to discard these stockings is because they're odorous and discolored by my shoes after many wearings. The downside of strong stockings is that the material seems to hold everything, and no amount of washing seems to really clean them.

I also buy stockings from time to time at Agent Provocateur. They have a fabulous range of colors and styles so you can find ones suitable for work, evenings and play time. They're also thinner than the stockings from What Katie Did, even when they're the same denier, so if you're not looking for warmth and iron wear, these are great. I tend to reserve these for special occasions when I can be more playful than at the office, in part because they are so fun, but also because they don't wear as well and I'd rather not wear them for 12 hours at a stretch, which I sometimes have to do during the week. They also make that wonderful raspy sound when you rub your legs together--a nice touch when you're crossing your legs in attentive company.

As far as feel is concerned, the best stockings I've worn come from Secrets in Lace. These are so incredibly soft, and when I wear them I feel as though my legs are being kissed in silk (even if the stockings are not actually made from silk). These are the height of luxury, if not durability. They're also made with a keyhole in back, just like in the good old days. While these are definitely not stockings I can wear every day, I love them for big nights.

Now, as much as I might wish that I'll have the time to post again before I'm on the road for Christmas, the reality is that I probably won't. I wish all of you a very happy holiday, and as my gift to you, I'll end with some of my favorite pinups featuring stockings.

Getting into it

I had been wearing a corset regularly for quite some time when my mom said to me, "Do you know how long women fought to get out of those things?" After a moment I replied, "Do you know how long I've fought to get into one of these things?"



I've been interested in tightlacing at least since I saw Hattie McDaniel tighten up Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind. Beyond that, I've always admired the classic pinup styles of women like those painted by Gil Elvgren and used nowadays as humor by Anne Taintor . Their allure and coy, (sometimes) innocent faces have never failed to inspire me and inform my sense of style. Not only that, classic pinups timeless, defying fads and trends that are in one year and out the next. In the many conversations I've had with others about pinups, beauty and the definition of sexy, not one person of any age (or gender) has been able to claim that a Vargas girl does nothing for them.


As I became more and more immersed in emulating classic pinups, sexiness became more about hinting that I might have a secret, and if you happen to be around at the right time, I might give you a peek. Classic pinup style has nothing to do with your ass hanging out of your shorts, but has more to do with the sprinkler that just blew up your skirt. What's a girl to do? Gather everything she's learned about classic pinup style and put it in one spot.