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ajnabiehI'm a little late finishing up Dress Your Best Week. However, I did have some photos and thoughts I wanted to post, so might as well get them up. The ladies of Academichic have posted some really great guides (here and here) to what was posted last week; I recommend you check them out, if you've got an interest. (And thanks again for hosting!)
Anyway, here is my outfit from Wednesday, May 12
Blazer: Banana Republic
Graphic tee: hand-me-down
Belt: Macy's
Jeans: thrifted
Shoes: vintage, from my mother-in-law (I told you she was an endless font of shoe-y goodness)
I wore this outfit to go to the retirement party for my undergraduate boss. M. was the administrative assistant/business manager for her department for over fifty years, a thought which boggles my mind. She's bossy, opinionated, very good at what she does, and totally without patience for people who can't follow simple directions: that is, she is exactly what an academic department (particularly one full of, god help her, people who read ancient Sumerian for a living) needs to keep from sinking into the utter morass. I chatted with one of the senior department members while I was there, and he said, forlornly, that she knew every single living alumnus of the department, and that the department would never be the same. I knew he was right. I think it's important to remember how much of the work of universities is not done by people with PhDs; it's done by department secretaries/business managers/administrative assistants, done by librarians and archivists and curators, done by IT workers and human resources workers, done by maintenance and food services staff. Those of us on the teaching side of the equation are only a small part of the system; just because we're the shiniest part of it doesn't make us any more important.
The other reason I wanted to post this outfit is because Wednesday was my third wedding anniversary. We didn't do anything to celebrate, except travel: first to my alma mater to attend the party, and then to my wife's, where we stayed in a hotel room before checking in for reunion the next day. And we weren't alone: we were traveling with one of her college friends, and had planned on bringing our roommate, though he had to reschedule for later in the week. My wife is my partner, the other half of my brain, the most important person on the planet as far as I'm concerned--but neither of us feel compelled to make a big deal out of our anniversary anymore. Some of it is how long we've been together (over a decade). Some of it is probably a Quakerly aversion to pomp and circumstance. And some of it is probably that we're too damn busy, stressed, and broke to take notice of these things when they don't relate to the kid. In any case, we did have a lovely anniversary, despite spending much of it on I-95.
But, since we were talking about drag, I thought I'd share this story from my wedding day. At the reception, I was standing around talking to a bunch of grad school friends. I believe someone complimented me on my dress, or how I looked, or something, and I teasingly talked about how I had worked really hard at doing convincing bride drag--that when I do a look, I take it seriously and want to adhere to all the conventions. "Well, it worked," she said. "I mean, anyone would have thought you'd gotten married today."
***
I spent most of the rest of the week and weekend dressed like a slob, because I was on vacation: a roadtrip to Western Massachusetts, and then my wife's reunion. This involved some adventuring in the wilderness:
But I did have one day when I had to dress up: for Ivy Day. I'll admit, I have more warm and fuzzy feelings about Smith than I do about Yale. Some of it is that it's a women's college, which means there's a feeling of solidarity and support for your fellow members of the community that isn't there at co-ed schools; some of it is that Yale is kind of a big giant semi-evil behemoth; some of it is that I didn't go to Smith, so all my memories of it are of having fun on weekends with my wife and her friends. But Ivy Day is my favorite of all Smith traditions: you march through a long cordon of awesome women (and, especially in the more recent classes, more than a few awesome men), and everyone cheers for each other.
Here are me, my wife, our friend, and Mr. X on Ivy Day:
On me:
Blazer: Banana Republic
Shirt: Ann Taylor, hand-me-down
Skirt: Thrifted
Shoes: Vintage, from my mother-in-law
On Mr. X:
Shirt: GAP Kids
Pants: Thrifted
On my wife (L):
Everything's thrifted (we basically cleaned out our Goodwill; who owns this much white?
On our friend (R):
I have no idea, but the tights are mine! And, hey, I don't think she returned them...
Oh, and my friend, while asking not to be identified, did want me to relay that her hometown has some serious issues.
I had fun doing this! (And thanks tosofiaviolet who joined me.) I do have thinky thoughts on dressing for fieldwork and dressing for teaching, which I'll probably haul out in a couple weeks, when I'm stressing about my writing and in a bad mood.
Anyway, here is my outfit from Wednesday, May 12
Blazer: Banana Republic
Graphic tee: hand-me-down
Belt: Macy's
Jeans: thrifted
Shoes: vintage, from my mother-in-law (I told you she was an endless font of shoe-y goodness)
I wore this outfit to go to the retirement party for my undergraduate boss. M. was the administrative assistant/business manager for her department for over fifty years, a thought which boggles my mind. She's bossy, opinionated, very good at what she does, and totally without patience for people who can't follow simple directions: that is, she is exactly what an academic department (particularly one full of, god help her, people who read ancient Sumerian for a living) needs to keep from sinking into the utter morass. I chatted with one of the senior department members while I was there, and he said, forlornly, that she knew every single living alumnus of the department, and that the department would never be the same. I knew he was right. I think it's important to remember how much of the work of universities is not done by people with PhDs; it's done by department secretaries/business managers/administrative assistants, done by librarians and archivists and curators, done by IT workers and human resources workers, done by maintenance and food services staff. Those of us on the teaching side of the equation are only a small part of the system; just because we're the shiniest part of it doesn't make us any more important.
The other reason I wanted to post this outfit is because Wednesday was my third wedding anniversary. We didn't do anything to celebrate, except travel: first to my alma mater to attend the party, and then to my wife's, where we stayed in a hotel room before checking in for reunion the next day. And we weren't alone: we were traveling with one of her college friends, and had planned on bringing our roommate, though he had to reschedule for later in the week. My wife is my partner, the other half of my brain, the most important person on the planet as far as I'm concerned--but neither of us feel compelled to make a big deal out of our anniversary anymore. Some of it is how long we've been together (over a decade). Some of it is probably a Quakerly aversion to pomp and circumstance. And some of it is probably that we're too damn busy, stressed, and broke to take notice of these things when they don't relate to the kid. In any case, we did have a lovely anniversary, despite spending much of it on I-95.
But, since we were talking about drag, I thought I'd share this story from my wedding day. At the reception, I was standing around talking to a bunch of grad school friends. I believe someone complimented me on my dress, or how I looked, or something, and I teasingly talked about how I had worked really hard at doing convincing bride drag--that when I do a look, I take it seriously and want to adhere to all the conventions. "Well, it worked," she said. "I mean, anyone would have thought you'd gotten married today."
***
I spent most of the rest of the week and weekend dressed like a slob, because I was on vacation: a roadtrip to Western Massachusetts, and then my wife's reunion. This involved some adventuring in the wilderness:
But I did have one day when I had to dress up: for Ivy Day. I'll admit, I have more warm and fuzzy feelings about Smith than I do about Yale. Some of it is that it's a women's college, which means there's a feeling of solidarity and support for your fellow members of the community that isn't there at co-ed schools; some of it is that Yale is kind of a big giant semi-evil behemoth; some of it is that I didn't go to Smith, so all my memories of it are of having fun on weekends with my wife and her friends. But Ivy Day is my favorite of all Smith traditions: you march through a long cordon of awesome women (and, especially in the more recent classes, more than a few awesome men), and everyone cheers for each other.
Here are me, my wife, our friend, and Mr. X on Ivy Day:
On me:
Blazer: Banana Republic
Shirt: Ann Taylor, hand-me-down
Skirt: Thrifted
Shoes: Vintage, from my mother-in-law
On Mr. X:
Shirt: GAP Kids
Pants: Thrifted
On my wife (L):
Everything's thrifted (we basically cleaned out our Goodwill; who owns this much white?
On our friend (R):
I have no idea, but the tights are mine! And, hey, I don't think she returned them...
Oh, and my friend, while asking not to be identified, did want me to relay that her hometown has some serious issues.
I had fun doing this! (And thanks to
sofiaviolet who joined me.) I do have thinky thoughts on dressing for fieldwork and dressing for teaching, which I'll probably haul out in a couple weeks, when I'm stressing about my writing and in a bad mood.