Finally!!! Stitch Fix in Plus Sizes!

I've loved sharing about Stitch Fix over the years. You've been right here with me when I've found great dresses, fabulous outfits, favorite jeans, and even a few epic duds.

It's so fun to receive a box of clothes in the mail that I can look though, see what works for me, and easily return what doesn't. And, as long as I keep just ONE of the 5 items in the box, my styling fee is refunded! It has been a great way to refresh my wardrobe.

Many of you let me know, however, that you were disappointed that Stitch Fix did not have an option for curvy women. I gave your feedback to the company, and was thrilled to find out that Stitch Fix is launching styling for plus sized women...starting TODAY! Great brands, great looks, selected just for you.




If you are size XS-3X Now you can have your own personal stylist!

I can't wait to hear about your Fixes! My next one comes in April.


#affiliate

Fashion Faux Pas?

I know I have a reputation for being thrifty when it comes to clothes, but all the money I save shopping at the thrift store is really just to make up for the stuff I buy but barely ever wear. The clothes that I really, really wanted but now me cringe when I think about them. I am NOT talking about the heavily shoulder padded boxy blazers or the flannel shirts of the 80’s or our well-loved stonewashed jeans. We looked HOT in those and you know it.

I’m talking about those articles of clothing that are perfectly fine, but that we wear once and realize they just don’t work for us. Have you ever been caught in an outfit that is suddenly so emphatically, undeniably WRONG, that you wonder whether being naked would be better than keeping it on one second longer? This usually happens to me in a public place w/ no mode of escape.

This happened to me last week at a school fundraiser. I wore a satin retro-50’s June Cleaver cocktail dress. I had bare legs and high heels. It was 13 degrees outside and not much warmer in the building. I had forced myself out of my cozy sweatpants only moments before, knowing that this was a pretty formal affair.

My ankles still had sock indentations on them. I was freezing, but ready to suffer for fashion. All the other women wore fitted wool skirts, tall boots and sophisticated and WARM sweaters. I wanted to rip the cozy little scarves off their necks and fashion a poncho for myself out of them.

Great dress, wrong occasion.

Other times, I’ve tried to wear things that just weren’t me. A Target tube top, for instance. While I’d never be accused of wearing "mom jeans," and I WAS the first person in my high school to get a 1986 asymmetrical haircut (check it out!), any attempts to be on the cutting edge of fashion leave me feeling self conscious and uncomfortable.

When I think of cringe-worthy outfits, the very worst was when I tried too hard to look cool. I was in grad school and was headed back to my old college for homecoming. I had super long hair, had shed the college 15 and I was looking pretty darn good.

My outfit of choice? A velvety pseudo-gothic tunic, black tights, chunky shoes, and ripped jean SHORTS over top. Eeek. In my defense, I was an English major, I took women’s studies, and I felt slightly artsy. I wavered slightly about my choice when my brother-in-law asked, “You’re going to wear THAT?” but what did he know?

I dismissed him and forged ahead. It wasn’t until I walked down the crowded stairs into a frat party that I realized my outfit stunk. I couldn’t pull it off. A snooty girl from another sorority looked me up and down and her eyes settled on my velvet tunic. “I never thought these parties were FORMAL!” she laughed.

Most recently, I wore a nearly floor length sweater found at the thrift shop with the tags still on it. I should have taken that as a clue that it would take a mighty strong woman to pull off this sweater. Seeing as I am neither Stevie Nicks nor Elvira, I don’t think I’m that woman. Halfway down the hallway at church I’d had so many positive comments I wanted to crawl in a hole.

You see, it is my personal belief that when an inordinate number of people feel compelled to comment on any one article of clothing, it is a bad sign. I came to this understanding after witnessing far too many compliments of nightmare haircuts and fashion trainwrecks. I realized that people feel like they have to acknowledge some outfits, even if it’s with a bogus compliment. They may even think they are being sincere.

These are the same people who say, “Oh, have you lost weight?” every time you look good. They don’t seem to realize this implies they thought you looked like a lard butt before. You may have just gotten a nice new pair of earrings, but they just have to play the weight card.

So, for all of my money saving, I must admit I’ve wasted a chunk of change on clothes that simply don’t work for me. I’d LOVE to hear what similar bombs are in your closet. I’m not alone in this, am I?

And, for the first An Inch of Gray Giveaway, I have a lovely floor length black sweater to mail to that lucky someone. Must be at least 5’3” to enter!

How Old is Too Old?

I was at Pottery Barn last week and saw two women, probably in their early 50’s, who were dressed so hip it made me uncomfortable. I’m not sure what my problem was, but when they walked by in their heels, low rise cords, shrunken jackets and very blond hair, I got the heebie jeebies. Both women were in great shape, and their outfits were perfectly put together.

I guess I was wondering about some of my own recent fashion missteps, and feeling insecure about how to dress. Nine years ago my closet went from work clothes, to casual, stay at home mom clothes. I admit to a few years of looking schlubby, particularly when my breast-feeding breasts were so big I couldn’t even see my feet. Case in point: when I had my first child, it was still okay to go out in public wearing a unisex t-shirt and overalls. I’m at a point now where my closet is pretty much comfy clothes and dressy clothes, without much in between. I think comfy clothes are getting much cuter, so it’s possible to look pretty good when only running to Target or the vet. I tell myself that my chocolate brown velour hoodies and pants aren’t going to one day remind me of the baggy fuchsia “sweat suit” I wore during the eighties.

None of this explains why I felt so funky around the women at Pottery Barn. Was I jealous because they both were in better shape and better coifed than I was? Why did I shrink away? Was I worried I might catch a glimpse of a thong? I guess it’s just that when I was growing up, moms tended to look like moms. While we were prancing around in our tight stonewashed jeans and v-neck Forenza sweaters, our moms wore sensible sweaters, pants, and maybe a wrap-around skirt. It’s one of my least favorite words, but I think the term “slacks” sums the look up pretty well. Now, the line between “young clothes” and old has really blurred and I’m not sure where I fit in.

I feel young and want to dress young. No up to the chest “mom jeans” for me. I try to wear clothes that are fitted and flattering. But I still wonder, how much is too much? Can I still venture into a juniors department, or is that simply too weird for a 38 year old? I haven’t stepped foot into Abercrombie since it became apparent that it was no longer the place to buy khaki pants and wool sweaters. Some stores I pass have mannequins so small, it looks like preteens should shop there.

I tried to wear a cute terry cloth tube top from Target last summer. It was brown and was loose around the middle with elastic at the top and bottom, not like the pink one I wore to the junior high carwash when I was twelve. That one was so tight, my little breasts were highlighted and my chubby tummy stuck out. I was about 10 minutes into that carwash when I realized I was in fashion hell.

I have lots of friends who dress well, and I wanted to try something new. I had recently attended a wedding and a reunion in strapless dresses (go White House/Black Market!) and was feeling pretty good about myself and my tanned shoulders. The Target tube top was on clearance, so I thought, “why not?” I entered our beach house living room for the debut, thinking I might be more comfortable in this vacation setting, rather than the dentist’s office or grocery store at home. Husband said nothing. He has not said anything about my clothes since an incident when we were dating and he said I looked “homely” in my new dress. He insists he meant “homey,” but, really, is that a compliment? Anyway, no comments all around, until my 8 year old son walked in and said, “Mom, you are missing part of your shirt.” Hmmmm.

Fashion-wise, I feel like I should have pretty decent credentials, having been voted “Best Dressed” both in high school and as a young high school teacher. However, the first honor was in 1987, and there wasn’t a whole lot of competition for the second. Oh well.

I know that we should dress in a way that makes us feel comfortable, confident, and, if possible, doesn’t embarrass our children. I feel like I may wake up at age 60 and wonder why I didn’t take more fashion risks when I was say, 38. Am I wasting these years on shirts that cover my stomach?