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The Consolations of Femmes

“What made you sad?” a friend asked, privately, after my last post. I will tell you: someone important in my life is dying of cancer.

We are both femmes. Introduced by a mutual friend five years ago, we’ve become close as family. We both like making houses beautiful, keeping vintage clothing forever, old-school dinner parties and acres of books. My friend has recreated herself again and again, challenging society, making the most of her talents, intelligence, and sensuality. She was wrapping up her Ph.D and starting a new teaching job when she got the health news.

Jan at the Michoutouchkine & Pilioko Foundation in Port Vila, Vanuatu, snapped by me

Jan at the Michoutouchkine & Pilioko Foundation in Port Vila, Vanuatu, snapped by me – we went on a cruise together in 2011

What can I do? Love unceasingly. But, along with that, love respectfully. I do my best to respect how she needs and wants to spend her time, and to help whenever I’m asked. I bring food – mild and easy things to eat, such as risotto, braised oxtail with polenta, a swirled pound cake, rewena bread. She asked, “Can you do my nails?” I said yes. “Sooner rather than later?” Again, of course. Chemo can be hard on one’s nails. I assembled a nail kit (with sterilized clippers and just-for-her files and orange sticks) and Saturday I stopped by and gave her a pedicure at the hospital. She chose a rich, iridescent paua-shell blue. I support her decisions in other ways, too – she is choosing how to treat her cancer and deal with her life issues.

What can we all do for our friends with cancer? At one point, a friend of hers, a single man, had had a heart attack. She observed, “Everyone was sending love and light on Facebook, but nobody DID anything. So several of us banded together and went over to clean his house.” Front up with the hands-on care and in-person presence. And  help your friends feel beautiful in other ways, but keep your own hair on your head – Locks of Love, the world’s biggest cut-your-hair-for-cancer charity, is being investigated for fraud, and in New Zealand high-quality cancer hairpieces are funded by national health care. (Cutting hair has been a sign of grieving throughout human history and in many cultures, so I see where they’re coming from, it’s a pity it doesn’t work very well.)

This is how it goes; I’m sad, in waves, like the ocean around the paua. Then my friend and I see each other, and we are sad together. But then we laugh, and rejoice in each other’s presence, and go on rants about health care and hair – because we’re alive. “We’re making memories,” she says.

Carved gateway at Michoutouchkine & Pilioko in Port Vila, Vanuatu

Carved gateway at Michoutouchkine & Pilioko in Port Vila, Vanuatu

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Friday Follies: Reviving After Travel

At last, I’m back, after wrapping up my trip, followed by two weeks of jet lag and Extreme Busyness. Some of what’s going on is very good, and some of it has made me very sad, and there’ll be posts about that later. In the meantime: burlesque!

I emceed a fantastic little show in Martinborough, and I’m emceeing Frolic Lounge this weekend. I’ll also be extending some hospitality to a visiting performer next week – if you’d like to see her, check out The Burlesque Assassins.

FrolicPoster2013

It’s the Winter Solstice here, with a hey, ho, the wind and the rain. But it’s a great moment to go back to our roots…here are 8 tips for developing personal style for us quirky types.

After my trip, my feet were beat. I was walking four to eight hours a day, sometimes in 95 degree heat. I had blisters on my blisters! This great advice on preventing and treating blisters applies to both long hikes and high heels. Thanks to moleskin, I could still keep going, albeit with frequent gimpy breaks.

Also: jewelry and taxidermy. TOGETHER AT LAST. Oh yusss.

Amy Shutt photograph of Digby and Iona ring on a taxidermy quail.

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Travel: Packing, Pre-Shopping, and Unnatural Acquisition

I’m pretty pleased with how a “capsule wardrobe” has worked out for me on this trip. It’s taken me from lunch at a formal New York bistro to pizza on a park bench, and through a 40-degree range of temperatures. I was able to pack minimally, saving luggage space to abuse for other purposes (bringing clothing, book and culinary gifts). And I felt polished and relaxed. Polyvore makes it easy to play with the idea of capsule wardrobes, so it’s great to experience that they actually work well in real life.

This is the tight capsule wardrobe that has served me well: two pairs of jeans (one grey with a pattern), a black pencil skirt, six tops, two cardigans, and a wool ponte blazer. For a handbag, I am carrying an unfashionable, but useful and secure, leather messenger bag. Everything in the “capsule” goes with everything else. Here’s my ‘Polyvore On The Floor’ for you.

PolyvoreFloor

Yes, only one pair of shoes! More shoes, and a travel-friendly black dress were waiting for me. One of these pairs of shoes, black leather sandals from Naot, went with skirt and dress ensembles. I “pre-shopped” so that these items were waiting for me at my mother’s address. I’ve acquired some new items from sale racks and consignment stores – the only full-price items I’ve bought have been underwear. (Very good bras, mini-camisoles, and Jockey Skimmies.) Nothing – absolutely nothing – requires ironing. From my newer purchases, another pair of jeans and a shrug cardigan made it into the trip clothing rotation.

Acquiring a good chunk of my wardrobe every two years on trips to the U.S. is a very unnatural pattern of clothing acquisition. Why do I do it? Three factors. I can’t buy petite-proportioned clothing in Wellington, and I have difficulty buying shoes for my tiny hooves. I like the variety and huge range of colors in the U.S. And the tremendous amount of clothing in the U.S. means that those consignment stores, outlets, and sale racks stretch my shopping dollars. This time around, I’ve been shopping from a list, which is also helpful.

I love the advice at the long-term travel site Journeywoman, and their Favorite Travel Clothing stories are spot on.

 

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Travel: Philadelphia Freedom

“All things considered, I’d rather be in Philadelphia,” said W.C. Fields before his death. And I’ve been thrilled to be back in the city I lived around or in for ten years. Seriously, I am so happy to be here. Some things haven’t changed, like the picture below, and some things have.
Phil-QuinceI used to live in the house immediately on the right.
Phil-LoveThe famous “LOVE” statue on a perfect spring afternoon.

Phil-Quest“Quest’ at the Philadelphia Academy of Fine Arts.

Phil-Bunting

Flag and bunting emporium in Old City. Philadelphia has gotten a LOT more into the patriotism thing than it used to be. When I lived here in the 1990s, a lot of the historical atrractions were run down after a then-stylish update in 1976. Now, a massive new visitor’s center welcomes tourists and entertains them with storytellers and costumed historians. The line for the Liberty Bell snakes around a city block. New museums and a Philadelphia son et lumiere show have opened up. There was a Tea Party protest going on in front of a government agency.

Also, while visiting my mom in CT, I watched a lot of those new restaurant-voyeurism TV shows, which all seemed to focus on meatloaf. Evidently these shows found rich subject matter in Philadelphia – I went to Reading Terminal Market and my co-diners were Instagramming their food. It’s like everyone else realized how great Philadelphia is, and the result is some Philadisneying. Hm. I always praise Philadelphia to people outside the U.S. as a fantastic, affordable, walkable place to visit and get a sense of The Real America, much more than New York, which is its own beast. Based on the accents in the crowd, non-U.S. visitors have discovered Philly, too.

Away from the Liberty Bell and Benjamin Franklin and Betsy Ross, there’s a vibrant liberal city with a strong queer presence. Medicine and science have been an integral part of the city’s  intellectual life forever, leading to institutes like the Philosophical Society and the Mutter Museum. It’s crowded – but not too crowded. Perhaps it’s because the crowds are thinner that I’m finding Philadelphians even more stylish than New Yorkers. Neon green, hardly seen in New York, is out in force here. The City of Brotherly Love is not as cheap as it once was, but I still recommend it to New Zealand travelers, especially as a stop between New York and Washington D.C.

Next post I’m going to discuss the beauties of Philadelphia shopping. Hold on to your tricorn hats and wallets.

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Travel: New York, Briefly

Going to America, New York feels…somewhat mandatory. At least, it is if your father and brother live there. I stayed for four days and spent most of the time catching up with people. “New York is one of the most uncomfortable environments there is,” says my Brooklyn-based brother. “You can get away with anything as long as you don’t get in anyone else’s way.” It was frantic and crowded and sweaty and dirty and exciting and full of wonderful, high-energy people.

Lovely Lolitas in NYCIn Bryant Park, meeting up with a friend, we ran into a fashion shoot and a separate Lolita meetup. By the carousel, of course!

Their "Ho Ho" cakeBryant Park cafe cake. Very dark and rich.

NY-EmpireState

I stayed very close to here for three nights. Had some fabulous food in neighboring Koreatown.

Mi abuela Isabel NemirovskyRediscovered at my dad’s place, this photo of my Argentinian grandmother, aged 22 here.

Mister Showbiz courtesy of Juleskill via Creative CommonsIt’s not a New York trip without a dose of burlesque or cabaret. And I got mine from Mister Showbiz himself, Murray Hill! I saw him perform on May 18th, at Galapagos Art Space, with my “show date” being Judith of Unseen Censer. Such a pleasure to see the emceeing master at work. The show was flawless, too – unlike my excited, shaky photography. So this far better image is via Creative Commons, so you too can feel the love.

A word about New York shopping. It’s easy to get overloaded, jaded, bewildered, and overspent very quickly. If you have a strong interest in music, or crafts, or graphic novels, or some other highly specific hobby or subculture, you may get more pleasure out of spending money on the specialized items for these that you can find in NYC than on the chimera of “New York style.” But many visitors to New York are convinced the chimera is out there…

I find my best New York fashion return-on-investment comes from cosmetics. It is worth it to pick your favorite cosmetic counter and get some refreshing tutorials along with your purchases. My favorite is the boutique brand Paula Dorf, and their Henri Bendel counter is staffed by makeup sorcerers.  I went to them and said, “My eyebrows – can you help?” They did.

Clothes were more hit and miss – I’m not the only one to find this season of clothing rather meh. Macy’s on Herald Square was vast and confusing. I preferred the cleaner, more tranquil, and better curated Lord and Taylor at 38th Street – their sale racks had some bargains that matched items I was seeking.

New Yorkers look like everyone and wear everything – the full cross-section of humanity, not the tooth-bleached actors in Manolos we get in the media. That said, this spring, the New York fashionistas got a memo that said “Wear a very, very simple black dress. And beige shoes, and a bag of an entirely different color. Top it off with a clunker of a necklace or a bracelet, but NOT both.”

So, Many. Things. Made of leather!
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Brahmin Tent Sale: An Ocean of New England Handbags

Like many carbon-based life forms, I hate trying to replace favorite bags. Last year, I stumbled across a bag that fit my exacting topological requirements, by a brand named Brahmin. Not only did this bag have a great shape, and inside pockets designed to please, but it was made of a steampunk-looking crocodile-pressed cowhide that promised to outlast me.

I poked around to learn more about Brahmin, and was satisfied that I could feel good about giving them my handbag money. An intelligently managed midsized brand, they court bloggers actively – of all colors, ages, and sizes. They don’t overcharge. And while a distinctly feminine brand, they are tech-friendly and their core line has a clean-lined, sturdy aesthetic that’s often reserved for men’s leather goods.

So when I found out that they were having their biannual “tent sale” two hours away from my New England idyll, my mom and I planned to go. We get a surprising amount of designer sample sales in New Zealand, from our own designers, but I wanted to see one Yankee-style.

We arrived to an industrial parking lot full of tents, with traffic and security staff waving us along. Outside the tent, a local vendor was selling fresh, hot cookies, and we refreshed ourselves before entering the scrum. Inside the tents were vast quantities of fresh handbags.

ERMAHGERD HERNDBAGS

Inside the Brahmin Tent Sale: bags as far as the eye can see

In case this wasn’t enough, a stream of well-set-up Brahmin staffers constantly conveyed fresh boxes of handbags to our gaping maws. Experienced shoppers hovered for the new boxes.

So, Many. Things. Made of leather!

A constant stream of items for our consideration

There were bags that are being sold currently on the web site, bags from last winter, the winter before, and bags of total mystery. Colored oddments – puce! sandy mustard! eggplant! – were blended with standard reds, blacks, and browns, and with metallics. Privately, I was disappointed that there were no bags in the thrilling teal “Peacock” color from last winter.  Not that I was stalking them, or anything. I had to keep tearing myself away from the brown crocodile-look handbags that Brahmin does so very well. Many of the leather satchels were heavy, more than I prefer for a bag. There were tables of accessories. Keychains seemed overpriced, but leather picture frames were an excellent deal. We all have photos that deserve a frame of fuschia leather.

This handbag jungle had its laws. If two of us converged on the same bag at the same time, the first comer had dibs. I was charmed when, twice, the bag’s claimant offered to find me amid the scrum if the bag didn’t make their cut.

The handbag-shopping sound and fury was a bit much for my mom, who slipped outside after choosing one item. “I almost passed out!” I found her chatting amiably with one of the other shoppers, helping her choose between a red and a metallic bag. Many buyers tripped away with two or three giant grey shopping bags. Others slipped off with one modestly burdened bag. The more shopping bags they were carrying, the less they wanted to be photographed! To defend these super-shoppers, they were often buying gifts for friends and family. The bags were deeply discounted, 50% to 40% of their normal price – but still spendy. I wished I had that gift budget. Also, these bags don’t come with the Brahmin registration card, which means that Brahmin won’t repair the bags for free.

Gifts! Gifts, I tell you!Are three handbags between two women a “haul”? I don’t think so. My mother’s purchase grew on her. She likes a bag with compartments and stumbled upon a current-season Mojito Crossbody in Pecan. “Look at this pocket. And this one. It’s perfect for travel. Not that I travel. You can adjust the straps? How clever! I love the brown. It goes with everything.”

As for my bags, they seem to come from archives, or a department-store exclusive, or perhaps a parallel universe. One bag is of sturdy, moody, greenish-bronze-leopard leather.  Nobody understands this bag but me. We’ll walk together in the rain. I will shelter it under my arm, tenderly – it fits so perfectly into the curve of my waist – and slide haiku and dried fern leaves into its side pocket.

Shiny!

Despite the potential awkwardness of the “handles”, this bag passed the fumbling-with-keys-at-the-door test.

The other bag is an curiously soft black leather shoulder bag, a wardrobe workhorse. It’s the little things that add up, the brass fittings and the quality black stitching, actual pockets behind the diagonal zippers. It’s like that OK person at work who blossoms into a real friend.

A good solid bag

A bag destined to become a detachable part of my body. You know what I mean…

Both of these bags have been taken for an urban test drive and passed with flying colors. Next post: New York!

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Travel: A New England Interlude

Where have I been? First I was getting ready for a trip to the USA, and then…I was on the trip. Now that I’m at the midpoint I have time to share some of my adventures with you.

First, I spent close to two weeks in New Haven, Connecticut, for my mother’s 70th birthday, related festivities, and general catching up. I also had the great pleasure of seeing my Internet pen pal Michelle and her husband Mark, and with a friend of mine who teaches historical dance and is the mastermind behind the blog Rixosous. Most of all, seeing my mom doing well, catching up with her, reconnecting…oh, man. All the Feels. All of them.

CT-NewHavenThe mean streets of New Haven, Connecticut.

CT-YaleMuseumIn the Yale Museum of Art. Yale’s two art museums are free.

CT-MarshyBackyardSpring woodlands.

CT-BirthdayCake-sm

I made my mom’s 70th birthday cake for her birthday crowd: orange buttercream and vanilla wine cake (recipe for the cake layer is here).

CT-ChicksKicking it old school at Chick’s, a vintage seafood drive-in by the shoreline. This was where we went after the beach when we were young….Revisiting it, it looks grim and utilitarian, but the food still can’t be beat.

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Where To Get “Classic” Clothes Down Under

I was recently asked, “Where can I find clothes like J. Crew, but in New Zealand?”

Despite my convoluted relationship with preppy, I feel your pain – classic style isn’t really a thing Down Under.

I asked my querent for more details. She specifically misses the dresses of J. Crew, and outfits based around classic pants/jeans. Also, she’s based in Auckland – which pinpoints a lot of her classics-bereftness right there.

I hereby declare that, in 2013, there has never been more of a gap between “North American classic” and Antipodean style. And Auckland style is, more than ever, hand-in-hand with Australia, all about starting the future. On my recent Auckland jaunt, I saw someone in the crystalline Sass & Bide boutique hilariously baffled as they held this garment- a rhinestone bandolier – up on its hanger, examining it from all sides, trying to visualize how someone, anyone, would wear it.

Preppy itself isn’t what it used to be. There’s a new design fascination with preppy’s original style manifestations, congealed in books like A Privilieged Life , Ivy Style, and the reprint of the 1950s photo book Take Ivy. In the U.S., these old-school design classics are being refreshed and quirked up by everyone from L.L. Bean to Tory Burch. I, myself, left the house twice last week looking like I’d mugged Kate Spade. For a stellar avatar of the new preppy, check out the blog Amid Privilege – great style and wonderful writing on family history and class.

  • Max -This NZ midrange clothing purveyor updated their design team about 8 months ago. The result is very wearable dresses and separates – check out their merino dresses for the best of both worlds, NZ yet classic. Also, their winter intarsia sweaters (ducks! deer! MOOSE!) have preppy quirk in an NZ-friendly neutral palette. Seriously, that moose shirt is genius.
  • Workshop Denim – Jeans for forever, and I’m impressed with their well-cut winter dresses. And those prices will remind you of J. Crew.
  • Duncan – Japanese denim jeans made right here in Wellington.
  • Trenery – I know, we were just there in an earlier post. Well worth having a look.
  • R.M. Williams – Australian preppy clothing, country classics that wear like iron. Very simple cuts – the kind you can wear forever.
  • Sportscraft – More Australian clothing on the classic continuum. I was very sad when they closed their NZ branches, because their stuff is beautifully made.
  • When you’re thrifting or on TradeMe, look for the brand Line 7.  This was well-made clothing produced by a company that got started in yachting wear. Their non-yachting clothing line came to an end in about 2010, but the clothes will still please a sartorial classicist.

One of the main differences between the preppy revival in the US and the classics available down under is the use of color. US women’s clothing and accessories right now is in a candy-colored frenzy, even for winter. Most antipodean clothes still cleave to a cool neutral palette – black, greys from palest to storm-dark, subdued blues, cool sandy beiges, some olive-on-the-edge-of-khaki, more black. If you are acquiring clothes overseas and want to feel “at home” when you return to New Zealand, either go for  neutrals or grab brights that play well with neutrals. And to stand out and make a statement, go for the preppy vivids.

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One Hundred Years of Girdletude

Do you want to see a 100-year progression of waist cinchers and stocking holders from my vintage clothing collection? Of course you do!

The older underwear items were acquired in two fell swoops. One group was acquired by me in the mid-1990s from a Philadelphia stocking wholesaler that was closing down. Along with a tiny Victorian corset and some curious garter belts and bras, I also acquired boxes and boxes of vintage seamed stockings, most of which have, over 20 years, been worn to death. A handful of boxes remain in my collection. The second group (eight corsets and girdles!) was scooped up by my sharp-eyed partner at a costume rental store sale in Palmerston North. “I thought you might be interested,” he said. There are lessons here for collectors:

  • If it’s there, buy it.
  • If you see one of something you’re interested in, look and ask for more at the same venue.
  • It can be worth going back a second time.
  • Tell your friends and intimates what you collect and ask them to keep an eye out.

I am donating two boxes of pristine 1950s vintage seamed nylon stockings to the silent auction at Save Our Strangelove. This is a fantastic event fundraising for a New Zealand burlesque dancer who was severely ill in the U.S.A., racking up serious medical bills. It’s got a star-studded performance line up, plus the sexiest silent auction ever, and is well worth attending, especially if you’ve never been to a burlesque show before. Here are the items I’ve donated for the auction:

Hubba hubba!

Two boxes with two pairs of virgin Cuban heeled seamed nylons: one box has black stockings, one box has a white pair and a pale coffee pair with black seams.

A vintage-wise friend of mine, who remembers her teachers wearing these nylons, told me, “The way to see if nylons would fit your foot was to wrap the length of the foot around your fist. If the foot length was a match for your fist, it would fit your foot perfectly.”

And now, on to our girdle timeline!

Victorian corset and dress bodice, probably from the 1860s:

Girdle-VictorianThis black silk Victorian bodice is our starting point, because its wasp waist is going to pursue us to the present day as a compression-attainable goal. (The person who sold it to me at an antique fair told me that it was from Winston Churchill’s family.) Next to it is the saddest, tiniest Victorian corset in the world – small, made of the simplest heavy cotton, stiff with stitching, stained with time, missing an eyelet. A poor servant girl’s corset, or a tween child’s training corset. Here’s hoping the wearer lived to outgrow it.

Jumping forwards in time, here are some 1930s-1960s cotton coutil corset/girdles and some elastic girdles:

Girdleorama

Check out the peach-colored numbers with the lacing. Terrifying, aren’t they? The fan lacing seems to be an attempt to allow the wearer to lace herself with greater ease, but I found them harder to wrangle than the Victorian corset. Their cotton fabric doesn’t stretch at all, though they do have a few elastic gussets. They fasten with hooks that stay in place ferociously – the busks of Victorian corsets are much easier to undo. The orthopedic pink color is probably an attempt to make them harder to see under the lighter dresses of the time. Most of this batch has found new homes – one or two are available. I’m keeping the broader-beamed fan lacing one! For more on girdles and corsets from this period, the web site Corsetiere.net is a wealth of knowledge.

1950s longline girdle:

I’m not sure when this is from but based on the unusual strap adjusters, I’d say it’s a reasonably early one of its kind. Note the zipper.

Longline girdle, mid-20th century:

Everyone seems to find this one particularly enchanting

Entirely elastic! No fasteners! Remember that this, or something like it, is the underpinning of many of the 1950s retro-women images that are widely admired.

Open-bottom girdles, mid-20th century:

Girdle-pair

This is an interesting progression. To the left we have a luxurious number. To the 21st century eye, it seems nostalgic in its use of mocha-pink lace and satin, but, as we can see from the earlier girdles and corsets, such fripperies were not applied to many earlier undergarments before the advent of elastic fabrics. Technology is making luxury accessible, here. A discreet zipper and hooks is tucked to one side. To the right is a space-age girdle from the 1960s or early 70s. The panels fasten with hooks on each side. This is a very efficient stomach restrainer.

Garter belts and bras, mid-20th century:

Girdles-modern

Another interesting progression. This dainty cotton garter belt has a small elastic section here and there. Compare it to the gleeful 1960s/1970s all-stretch turquoise garter belt. And this modest cotton bullet bra is more utilitarian than modern bullet bra reproductions, with a touch of elastic at the back and front – the shoulder straps, cups, and side areas are stiff, fine cotton. In the middle is a lace and satin 1950s bra with a metal hook and eye fastener and, again, very little elastic. The exquisite strapless 1960s bra to the right revels in its lycra.

Which brings us to the end of our hundred years…

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The Linguistic Curve

Maggie Chascarillo from Love and Rockets is, like us, perpetually perplexed by bodies of substance. Drawn lovingly by Jaime Hernandez.

Over the past several months, I’ve had a some thought-inspiring exchanges about the language of the body – specifically, the slightly deviant body, bodies that skew from the ideal-that-is-and-is-not-an-ideal.

The first one happened at a workshop I was giving about burlesque personas. As part of this, I handed out an exercise sheet, full of adjectives and descriptors to help performers spotlight what made them special. A fast-reading attendee asked, “What’s this one mean? Jolie-laide?”

I said something like,”Jolie-laide is a French phrase that translates directly as pretty-ugly. Like a pug dog, or a sexy broken-nosed boxer. Imperfect but appealing. Like, I’d say that I’m jolie-laide rather than – ”

Instant denial from the person who’d asked! “Oh, no, no, no! You’re pretty! You’re beautiful!” I…what? I was touched, flattered and also baffled. There’s realism in admitting I don’t look like a model, and there’s a freedom to jolie-laide, as Susie Bubble writes.  This New York Times article tries to talk Americans into appreciating jolie-laide. It’s disturbing how jolie-laide isn’t even part of our cultural dialogue anymore – no more movies called “Funny Face,” no more lyrics growling, “She ain’t so good lookin’, but she can lay that lovin’ down.”

The second one happened two weeks ago. A male friend of mine who admires the female form in all its volumes asked, “Is there something I can say, or should say, besides “curvy”? “Curves?” Is there anything women like better?” A good point, since, apparently, every single woman in America is now curvy.  I set out to examine the state of this area of linguistics, and found myself upbraided at every turn.

In the US, there’s thick. Google swears that one of the more popular related terms is “want thick body”, courtesy of J. Lo, Coco, Buffie Carruth (who modeled as Buffie the Body and is now a fitness trainer), and the women of Love & Rockets. Thick, along with “curvy”, has quickly come to connote a specific figure type, an hourglass with some sand in it – a body type that is, oddly, becoming rarer. In the US, the term thick is contentious enough. When I mentioned the term to my Kiwi friends, I got yelps of denial, because, “In New Zealand, thick means stupid, first and foremost. You can’t call someone thick!!”

What about the Yiddish term zaftig? “No, no, I wouldn’t use that,” says a Jewish friend, her mouth downturned. “It doesn’t have good connotations.”

Romance languages to the rescue. The German term vollschlank, often translated as “chubby,” literally means “full-slim” and once denoted sex appeal. Everybody I asked liked vollschlank – a pity, then, that the Germans themselves don’t seem to, anymore. There’s rondeur (French for “curvy”) or being une ronde- see the Miss Ronde competition. Which sounds good, but France isn’t a curve-positive country overall.

Hilda was a defiantly curvy pin-up of the 50s and 60s, created by Duane Byers and collected by Les Toil.

There’s the language that women use to refer to our own bodies, and the language that our admirers use to praise us – which is what my male friend was asking about. This week, Roger Ebert’s death drew attention to his articulate, afffectionate, and admiring words about his wife and her “voluptuous figure,” which enticed him at first sight. (The writer Yvonne Taylor has more thoughts on this here.)

“Voluptuous” doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue – at four syllables, it’s not a convenient signifier. But, since we live in a world where curvy, thick, zaftig, vollschlank rondeur isn’t treated simply, those extra syllables show that the body is considered; that it deserves more than a drive-by-shout of a compliment.

Your own thoughts on this are welcome!