As a semi-former punk/goth chick though, I'm very surprised that there aren't more articles written about the fashion shock women go through when they move to, party at, or vacation here in the Magic City.
Fellow New Yorkers will tell you; sacrificing comfort for fashion is...stupid. Try looking cute in 5-inch pumps and a dress made out of tissue paper when you're standing outside of a club in the Meat Packing district, waiting for an hour to get in... in January. There's nothing cute about those lips you didn't deliberately paint blue or twisting your ankle on the ice. Also? Trying WAY too hard.
I used to rock boots when I went clubbing - combat boots, go go boots, ankle boots etc. My outfits mostly consisted of raiding the racks at Sally's the afternoon of, then getting out a pair of scissors and a bunch of safety pins and working some magic. Bonus: having club buddies who did drag. Usually the "ritual" began by going to their place to have them help you put your outfit together. They always had a fully-stocked sewing room and drink bar. Stores were never my thing; my guy friends always had better luck at Century 21 than I did. Daffy's was too overwhelming (and now they're all closed).
Nighttime Miami is a major fashion shock I've never really gotten over cause none of the above options are really available. Here, the unspoken dress code for women is the nicer the club the higher the heels. HEELS. The most athletic thing I can do in heels is trot down half a block at a light run (and why would I do that, anyways). I certainly won't subject myself to standing around and/or dancing for three to four hours in heels. Too ouchy.
The flimsy clothes I like. Contrary to what impression the above may have given, I'm not particularly fixated on clothes. Quite the opposite, in fact. The less clothing I can get away with wearing, the better. This presents unique challenges to a lady who's used to comfortable shoes (see above), a multitude of low-cost shopping options and a culture that elevates ingenuity above sexiness. Turns out that ingenious sexiness is a loftier goal to aspire to than I originally thought it was. But I can achieve it. Yes, I can!
As for hair and makeup? Hair-wise, pigtails always do it for me. Makeup... meh. Miami is a very sweaty place and dancing is a very sweaty activity. Spend an hour and a half putting on your face and the rest of the night taking trips to the bathroom for upkeep? Nope, not me.
I do have rock-starish curly hair that gets bigger and wilder as the night goes on. Once I've been on the dance floor for more than 15 minutes though, it feels like I'm wearing a cat on my head. I like it out of my face and off my neck. Also, there's something about my curly hair that inspires people to invade my personal space and grab at it. Hell, it happened last night and I had it in pigtails. Sigh...
Oh, I almost forgot to mention this. I go to clubs to dance. Not to get hit on, bought drinks for, etc. My idea of happiness is being left alone so I can dance freely to awesome music. Hint, guys - practically holding me down on the dance floor while grinding on my ass... not my idea of dancing. I love meeting awesome, fun people too. The key word here? Fun.
This is why I've always leaned towards gay clubs. They play the BEST music and the guys are the BEST dancers. They get the music and let YOU get the music. Best of all, your dance partners don't charge you an hours' worth of boring, egocentric conversation afterwards or piss you off with possessive, sexist behavior. Last night, within ten minutes of arriving at a club, my friend and I were pretty much set upon by two guys who just didn't get the hint. Within five minutes of talking to us, they were inviting us to their hotel room. No flirting on our part, no nothing. Just us, standing there, trying to be polite.
They didn't stop pestering us, too, until a half an hour later when one guy started gnawing on my ear out of fucking nowhere. Think of it like this: you're at the supermarket shopping at the produce section or whatever, and some random guy just comes up to you, grabs your cart, tries to force you to follow him and when you try to grab your cart back he sticks his tongue in your ear.
In New York, the entirety of our exchange with those guys would have lasted a millisecond and the whole conversation would have been two words - not interested, or keep moving. I was following my friend's lead; she was trying to be nice and I didn't want to scare her with my "attitude" since it was the first time we'd gone out by ourselves. I hope she now trusts my skill at shaking off creepers at a club.
Mission #1: Find comfortable, stylish dancing shoes for a narrow size 5. Flats won't do it either, I have flat feet and besides, I've never liked flats. Your feet get too dirty.
I'm really into Jeffrey Campbell these days. There is one, ONE fucking store in Miami that carries him. For chains, Urban Outfitters and Nordstrom carries him, too. I might go check those places out locally before calling the Joanna Paige boutique.
I've always wanted a pair of Fluevogs and by gum, I'll have a pair too! DSW is a mostly-miss kind of place for me. Online, they have an impressive selection. In-store, it's been nothing but disappointments (the one in Aventura, at least). Strangely, I've had pretty decent luck finding shoes at Ross. Other shoe brands I watch out for: Steve Madden, Aldo, Chinese Laundry. Hard to find in my size, hit-or-miss style depending on the season, the sole-to-heel incline tends to be too high to stand around in for very long.
Loehmann's, you broke my heart when you closed down. I loved you so. Mosh Pitt, you broke my heart too.
Quick run-down and explanation of my "comfort-first" attitude towards fashion. It all began with shoes. When I was a kid, finding shoes in my size may have been a challenge, but it wasn't damn near impossible. Also, kids styles are more interchangeable and less of an outfit commitment. This is why, when I plan my evening wear outfits, I usually plan them around shoes. And those shoes had better last, too! I go through hell finding a decent pair that matches my criteria.
Walk into a store, any store, and check out the selection of size 5's. You'll see a pitiful, anemic selection with, at the most, three shelves from which to choose from. Weed out the ones that look like they belong on cartoon characters. Now, weed out the ones that are painful to look at and walk in. Finally, check out the price on the pair (or two if you're lucky) you're left with. Yeah, now you're feeling me.
For bottoms, you can't really go wrong with shorts. I was wearing a pair of silver shorts a friend gave me (I'd had a gold pair too, but I don't know where they disappeared to). I wouldn't opt for a dress unless it was a daytime party and I was with a group of friends. Guys can forget their manners at a club and get very grabby, so I opt for an extra layer of clothing between my butt and the night air. Last night, for the first time, I wished my shorts had been shorter.
Mission #2: Find stretchy, comfortable, shorter shorts that can withstand spilled drinks.
As far as tops go, this is the easiest part. One of the many great things about Miami is that you can throw on a white tank with no bra underneath and it works. I love being able to get away with that here. In New York I wouldn't make it to the front door of my apartment building. Here, the clothing serves to better highlight nudity and not the other way around (dressing stylishly and hinting at nudity). Also, the right tube top can be gloriously comfortable and cute.
Mission #3: Find gloriously comfortable, cute tube tops. Side note: Find a comfortable strapless bra and/or one with clear straps so I can better pull off strapless shirts.
So, that's the end of it except for one final thing. I won't pay more than $150 for a pair of shoes unless they transport me to Nirvana and back on the first trial walk. As rare as that already is, throw in an extra "true-love-at-first-sight" clause in there for a small and narrow-footed petite woman. To the hunt I go!
No comments:
Post a Comment