A Person of Size

I'm throwing out lots of stuff in preparation for throwing out lots more stuff when I'm older, and this washed up on the tide of junque from yesteryear: a Simplicity pattern -- wait! What's a "pattern"?

A pattern is a guide, printed on tissue paper, for cutting appropriately sized pieces of fabric for sewing, and the envelope includes a printed step-by-step illustrated guide, in three languages and with idiot graphics, as to how to sew the pieces together and do the other tasks required for completion, such as pressing open the seams and inserting elastic into the tunnel one creates for the waistline. Apparently at one time (the presence of a bar code indicates 1975 or later) I got the jones to sew for myself an elastic-waist skirt or capris, and I did, because I used the pattern and kept the tissue-paper pattern pieces nicely folded in this envelope in case I wanted to re-use them to sew me some more of that with the Kenmore sewing machine that was my college graduation gift.

You gotta understand America was different then. Piles of cheap gaudy-bawdy synthetic clothes sewn in Asia that you wore for one season and chucked: Oh, no. You cared for clothes. If certain clothing items were not available, or you never found an affordable/desirable item on repeated trips to several stores, logic led you finally to buy a pattern and fabric and some notions and custom-sew the item yourself as all girls learned to do at age 12 in Home Economics class. We  didn't yet hate Spanish-speaking people either.

But OMG, the size chart is the most stunning thing. As a populace we are a lot broader and dumpier than we used to be, and ready-to-wear manufacturers have adjusted clothing sizes accordingly (called "vanity sizing") and although today I wear clothes labeled "small" or "extra small," size 4 or 6, and folks call me "model thin," by the standards of 30 years ago I'd be size 14-16.

How to Find Women's Shorts

Last year a middle-aged lady seeking summer shorts found in the stores only shorts with 3-inch inseams--or 2-inch, or 1-inch--meant to show a lot of leg. A lot of thigh. This being unacceptable, she inquired of the Old Navy clerk, who said that was the only kind they had. On the way out, Middle-Aged Lady saw the men's shorts and grabbed her size (30) and tried them on. They fit very well (not perfectly; they don't have the same cut) and had 7-inch inseams. She bought khaki and navy blue--furthermore, made with serious pockets, and CHEAPER and BETTER SEWN than the women's, which were flimsy.

This year, Middle-Aged Lady sought summertime sport shorts, Dri-Fits, for hikes, forays, spin class, and days just too plain warm for cotton shorts, and the dozens of styles and brands of colorful women's sport shorts at Dick's Sporting Goods all had 3-inch or 2-inch inseams. The clerk said that was the only kind they had. Guess you're not supposed to be athletic and middle-aged. Lightbulb goes on and Lady locates the men's shorts: Basketball-type with very long inseams; compression shorts; running shorts with male briefs inside (would require that Lady use her sewing skills to remove the brief). She picked up and tried on a weightless, well-vented pair of Dri-Fits from Nike, 7-inch inseam, called the "Freedom" model, made without the inner brief, featuring two front pockets and a zippered key pocket, comfortably wide-legged so on her body they look like culottes (who remembers culottes?!?). She couldn't find the pricetag so she asked a clerk and he found it and said, "Forty-five dollars," and the Lady blanched, but purchased men's size Medium, which accommodated her curves, along with inflation needles for her basketball. At home she put the shorts on and has now taken them off only to sleep. The next morning before spin class she ordered a second pair online, exact same, same price, and hopes they last.

Warm Clothing, Part 3: UnderArmour and Its One Problem

UnderArmour clothing is tough stuff, all polyester and compression, and its Cold Gear and Heat Gear are worn by athletes, hunters, cops, soldiers, bikers, and all those whose activities turn normal fabrics into dripping or freezing rags. You'll see it on a good percentage of Walmart shoppers because we all think we are athletes, hunters, cops, soldiers, or bikers. Its only fault, discussed at length online in forums frequented by athletes, hunters and cops: This miracle fabric that stretches, breathes, wicks, and warms so wonderfully reacts with underarms and begins to smell within the hour, no matter how clean you are--and it won't wash out. UnderArmour denies that this happens. What to do?

1. Buy a lot of tops and change them daily. Retail prices are hugely inflated ($40 for a tee?) so I bought my collection on eBay, many "worn only once." They were cheap, probably, because of the problem UnderArmour denies.
2. Wash them with GearAid's "Mirazyme Odor Eliminator," or a similar product meant to remove the stink from tents, backpacks, waders, and anything skunked. Set the washer to soak, squeeze in a few drops of enzyme, soak the clothes for 5 minutes, spin 'em, hang them to dry and you'll be eucalyptus-fresh. The more you do this the less the shirts will smell, until they're totally tamed.

Warm Clothing, Part 1: My First Poncho

In spring and fall I like sweatshirts because a woman in her 50s needs climate control RIGHT NOW so I wear only those with zippers and hoods, and prefer them to have pockets. Trouble is, billowing and droopy sweatshirts with those baby-clothes cuff bands and unflattering bottom bands look like hell anywhere but at home.

Jackets for spring and fall bind my arms, or are either too heavy or too light, too short or too long, or they're okay for fishing but you need a different one for town; some are too nice or stiff to tramp through messy woods with, or not water-resistant. I haven't had a good spring or fall jacket for years because I can't find one that fulfills my every need.

Seeking alternatives I bought my first poncho, 100 percent alpaca knit, in the wine color I favor. For $16 on eBay how could I go wrong?

It's perfect in every way, like being embraced by a blanket--a warm, nice, secure one--and it goes everywhere, indoors or outdoors, casual or town. It's flattering. It's as warm as you want it to be; flip it up around your neck to catch your torso some cooling breezes. Alpaca, like cashmere, is close to indestructible, nonflammable, soft, natural, and nice. A poncho is not like a shawl or ruana; I don't have to be an artist to wear it or keep it on. People compliment it and ask if they can touch it. People want to buy a poncho for themselves. How great is that? I can foresee myself bundling it up and using it as a pillow on a plane. I've had it just over a week and I might actually look forward to winters now, with a poncho to comfort me. I'm totally at peace when I wear it.

I Hire a Wardrobe Consultant

I followed a sudden, unprecedented impulse to hire Dacy of MindfulCloset to re-dress me and yesterday bagged up clothing that no longer fit: 44, count 'em, 44 pieces of business clothing: pants, skirts, suits unworn since the workdays of 1997-2010 or that I wore with safety pins and grieved in because their waistlines measured 26" and mine didn't anymore. This seems trivial, but in business it matters very much. I'm a professional editor and when I go out I have to look well-edited.

I told Dacy, a girlish 36, that although those mostly black and funereal clothes didn't fit, I felt bad leaving them (and thus those days) behind. She told me to picture the future wearing new stuff I'd look awesome in and absolutely love.

Our free consultation was right here. We did a questionnaire and paged through some fashion books seeking looks I liked (Coco Chanel!) and what else I favored (solid colors, fur or mohair or cashmere, comfort, durability, linings, pants pockets, necklines with space for jewelry). I showed her my closet, what I wore, didn't or couldn't wear. She measured me and gave me a choice of shopping with her or she'd shop for me, bring the clothes over, let me try them on, and return those I didn't want. I chose the latter (I hate shopping for clothes, or rather, I suffer: they never have my size; I don't know who sells classic clothes; I'm hustled or ignored by salespeople; I don't have hours to crawl the malls, and pricetags scare me. I bought almost all my clothes on eBay and paid a tailor to fit them to my then-body). Consultant to many, Dacy  (pictured) knows where to shop and she came over with several armsful (with her own rolling clothes rack) for me to choose from.

I could just weep for joy, imagining the confidence I will have when clothes fit, are pretty colors, hide my figure flaw (yes, I've got only one), and make people say "You look stunning" -- because I am!

MindfulCloset service costs $45 an hour, but my services cost rather more and I know when I'm more confident I'll surely draw more business. I told her I'd pay for quality, durability and versatility. I will take it out of my savings because this is what savings are for. It's also a business expense.

What's left in my closet after the Great Purge: One dress (black). One suit (black). One pair of pants (black). One skirt (brown). One summer dress. One beloved too-tight suit (navy) to take to the tailor to see if she can "let it out" and make it wearable again.

Walk a Mile in My Shoes

Life in the country requires serious footwear, but sometimes I'm forced to go to the city, and for that I need dress shoes -- women's pumps with heels. But I'm very active, and can shred the soles of a pair of girly shoes in less than one day.

To slip and fall on the wet gravel in front of the Divine cabin, or on asphalt, or on cobblestones in the city streets, for me, would be no joke. I walk places, run in the rain, climb stairs. Three months ago, wearing stockings and a suit, in an emergency I vaulted a stone wall (using the old Western Roll). For YEARS I've pined for a pair of ordinary black pumps that could handle all this; and, oh yeah, fit my Extra-Wide, divinely crafted feet.

Finally in a Janesville, Wisconsin McDonald's this summer, I see an employee reading a shoe catalog called Shoes for Crews. Online I found their pair of passable-looking pumps with SERIOUS non-slip soles. I mean, these pumps have TREADS. And they're comfortable. Mostly they sell clogs, oxfords, sneakers, boots, etc. to working people: kitchen workers, nurses, construction workers, farmers. But I ordered their pumps and now have confidence that at least my shoes, even my girly shoes, won't hold me back or let me down. And I just had to let you know.