All posts tagged: Dresses

How a Dresses-Only Girl Learned to Love Jeans

(Graphic: Kat Borosky/TueNight.com, Photo Credit: Elnur Amikishivev/Veer.com) Making grand, public pronouncements is often a surefire way for me to get the universe to tell me exactly how wrong I am. This was the case when I declared that “every day is no pants day” for me in an essay at Refinery29. At the time, I’d purged my closet of all but sweatpants and one pair of extremely comfortable yoga pants that I used to sleep in, after my foray into yoga. I was convinced that my fashion sense and comfort level meant I was strictly a dresses-and-skirts kind of gal, and for the most part, I still am, except for a single pair of jeans I now can’t live without. Here’s the story of my love affair with my $29.99 Old Navy SweetHeart jeans, size 12 short. I learned that feeling comfortable can be its own kind of sexy. I was merrily going about my skirts-and-dresses life when I decided to volunteer as a dishwasher at a nonprofit restaurant. The job itself was straightforward, except …

Gloria, Calvin, Earl and Not Me: On Being a Denim Disaster

(Graphic: Nancy Gonzalez/TueNight) I hate jeans. I have hated jeans since, like, forever. This may be an unpopular opinion, perhaps almost un-American. But jeans almost never look good on me, and I dread the days I have to wear them. Which, if you work in the new media world in New York now, is pretty much every day. Instead, I do my best to get away with the cute dresses I love and, in the winter (if I have to) black pants. But you only have to look around a meeting once to see who, among all those young denim-clad cool girls, comes off looking more like their Sunday-best-dressed aunt. If forced, I can don a pair of Gap legging jeans (weekends or anytime we go outside of New York). But I have to tell myself they are leggings in order for me to get out the door, confidence somewhat intact. Why are jeans are so unflattering on me? I’d love for a fit specialist to explain it. I suspect it’s a combination of short …

Why My Cleavage is My Ultimate Accessory

In high school, my friend Steve nicknamed me “Cleavage.” Or, more accurately, “CLEEE-VAGE,” which he shouted down the hallway or across the cafeteria in his deep, booming voice. Sometimes he’d try to throw French fries into said crevice, which wasn’t hard to do as I often sported outfits that put my boobs on display. Over 20 years later, not much has changed, except that Steve and I have lost touch, nobody else has picked up the nickname, and I’ve gotten better at shopping for pushup bras. I still love to show off my cleavage any chance I get, meaning just about every day. Now, I should clarify: I’m not talking about a Kim Kardashian or even Christina Hendricks amount of cleavage — i.e., when a woman’s boobs are the only thing you see because they are totally front and center. Rather, I go for a less over-the-top look. It’s not about smushing my breasts together as much as it is about gently suggesting what the rest — what you can’t see — might look like. …