My chic mother in classic streamlined spring/summer style: Simple light-colored belted linen dress with slip-on huraches, accented with eye-catching earrings.
Even before I became a Francophile, I sought a signature style. My aesthetic has always been very French. People noticed that even when I was in my teens. At the time I assumed it was because I was tall, brunette and dabbed Chanel No. 5 on my wrists every now and again. I realize now there was way more to it. It was in my genes and in the air I breathed.
My first style muse and teacher was my mother. Mama was not French, never went to France and most assuredly never read "Entre Nous," the style bible cited by most American women with Francophile leanings. But like French women, she possessed in spades that je ne sais quoi quality that most American women find so elusive. She wasn't tall, but she wore clothes confidently. Having now observed many, many French women at close range, I can attest that style confidence is really the factor that sets "them" apart from "us."
My mother was not one to follow the herd. In an era when the preferred look was All-American Doris Day-ish snub-nosed blondes, my ethnic Croatian mother with her dark coloring and angular features didn't try to look cute or frou frou with ruffles and pastels. Nor did she go overtly sexy with cat-eye liner, cinched waists and plunging decolletage a la Sophia Loren or Gina Lollobrigida (though with her great legs and generous bosom, she would have stopped traffic).
Lean, clean lines that made her look taller were her trademark. She preferred solid colors, but sometimes wore prints, like this blouse, in small doses.
Instead she adopted a look that was part gamine, part classic casual elegance that suited her perfectly. Cropped pants with espadrilles and cotton boat-neck sweaters. Simple Ts with flowing skirts and leather huraches or ballet flats. Tailored trousers (still a novelty in the ultra-conservative South) with slip on loafers and button front cardigans with collars and three-quarter length sleeves. A cropped Italian boy bob that played up her big dark eyes and incredible cheekbones. Max Factor's flattering Pink 'n Orange lipstick rather than Revlon's dramatic Love That Red.
She loved clean lines and solid colors (but not black which she felt turned her dark olive complexion muddy), and put them together in original pairings like blue or aqua with brown. She didn't want to overpower her slight frame, so she accessorized sparingly but dazzlingly. She might adorn the French cuffs of a simple blouse with exotic jade cuff links fashioned like the heads of Burmese dancers. A pair of sculptural gold earrings looked great with her short hair and the cream, brown and camel clothes she favored.
Collared cardigans like this one worn over simple Ts were favorites whether paired with trousers, skirts or cropped pants -- always with flats.
My first style muse and teacher was my mother. Mama was not French, never went to France and most assuredly never read "Entre Nous," the style bible cited by most American women with Francophile leanings. But like French women, she possessed in spades that je ne sais quoi quality that most American women find so elusive. She wasn't tall, but she wore clothes confidently. Having now observed many, many French women at close range, I can attest that style confidence is really the factor that sets "them" apart from "us."
My mother was not one to follow the herd. In an era when the preferred look was All-American Doris Day-ish snub-nosed blondes, my ethnic Croatian mother with her dark coloring and angular features didn't try to look cute or frou frou with ruffles and pastels. Nor did she go overtly sexy with cat-eye liner, cinched waists and plunging decolletage a la Sophia Loren or Gina Lollobrigida (though with her great legs and generous bosom, she would have stopped traffic).
Lean, clean lines that made her look taller were her trademark. She preferred solid colors, but sometimes wore prints, like this blouse, in small doses.
Instead she adopted a look that was part gamine, part classic casual elegance that suited her perfectly. Cropped pants with espadrilles and cotton boat-neck sweaters. Simple Ts with flowing skirts and leather huraches or ballet flats. Tailored trousers (still a novelty in the ultra-conservative South) with slip on loafers and button front cardigans with collars and three-quarter length sleeves. A cropped Italian boy bob that played up her big dark eyes and incredible cheekbones. Max Factor's flattering Pink 'n Orange lipstick rather than Revlon's dramatic Love That Red.
She loved clean lines and solid colors (but not black which she felt turned her dark olive complexion muddy), and put them together in original pairings like blue or aqua with brown. She didn't want to overpower her slight frame, so she accessorized sparingly but dazzlingly. She might adorn the French cuffs of a simple blouse with exotic jade cuff links fashioned like the heads of Burmese dancers. A pair of sculptural gold earrings looked great with her short hair and the cream, brown and camel clothes she favored.
Collared cardigans like this one worn over simple Ts were favorites whether paired with trousers, skirts or cropped pants -- always with flats.
She invested in quality pieces and wore them a lifetime. I loved her chocolate-colored three-quarter length, shawl-collar walking coat in a wool, cashmere and reindeer hair blend. She -- and I -- wore that coat for nearly 50 years, and she was still receiving compliments on it the last day she wore it. Her go-to evening bag was a simple cream-colored, mesh metal bead clutch she bought in the 1950s -- a delightfully tactile little number that my sister and I loved to play with when we were kids.
And to the end of her days, she wore one signature fragrance: Toujours Moi by Corday.
As she grew older, she became less interested in dressing herself than in passing on her style wisdom to my sister and me. But she never lost interest in good style. She read fashion magazines and pored over the latest fall collections (like me she always like fall clothes the best) and singled out pieces she thought would suit us. She loved to visit the mall to observe what people were wearing so she could critique them to us sotto voice.
And to the end of her days, she wore one signature fragrance: Toujours Moi by Corday.
As she grew older, she became less interested in dressing herself than in passing on her style wisdom to my sister and me. But she never lost interest in good style. She read fashion magazines and pored over the latest fall collections (like me she always like fall clothes the best) and singled out pieces she thought would suit us. She loved to visit the mall to observe what people were wearing so she could critique them to us sotto voice.
While Mama generally did not care for the way she looked in black, she did own a little black dress, worn here, with a flattering lace insert to keep the dark color away from her face. The simple lines are classic Mama.
Her lessons stuck. Though I've had my "what was I thinking" fashion moments (my 20s coincided with the 1980s), like my mom I prefer clean lines and solid colors and well-made pieces I can wear forever. I don't eschew trends, but, like her, I consider them carefully and adopt only those I feel suit me.
There are some individualistic differences in our styles. Since I have dark hair with a fair complexion, I prefer black and grey clothes and red lipstick (how very French of me) rather than the earthier tones she favored. I am tall, so I choose bolder scaled (but still classic) accessories. Unlike my mother, I am a cat mama so my clothes are often unintentionally accessorized with cat hair. For that reason, I keep lint rollers in every room of my house, my car, my office and my bag.
Mama even managed to look good in a bridesmaid's dress. Of course, she designed the dresses and picked the color schemes (mossy green here) for both of her sisters' weddings. My sister and I weren't the only ones who looked to her for style advice!
The biggest lesson I've learned from my mother is that I don't have to be a conventional beauty, have a certain weight or body type or be under 40 to look stylish -- and more importantly feel good -- in what I wear. It's an attitude as much as a look, and it's one I hope to continue to cultivate no matter how old, fat, flabby, wrinkly and /or stooped over I become.
Merci, Maman. Merci beaucoup.
The biggest lesson I've learned from my mother is that I don't have to be a conventional beauty, have a certain weight or body type or be under 40 to look stylish -- and more importantly feel good -- in what I wear. It's an attitude as much as a look, and it's one I hope to continue to cultivate no matter how old, fat, flabby, wrinkly and /or stooped over I become.
Merci, Maman. Merci beaucoup.
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