Women in Clothes

by Sheila Heti

  HEATHER O’DONNELL’s Catholic jewelry

  CONVERSATION

  THE PANTSUIT ROTATION

  ALEX WAGNER JOURNALIST AND TELEVISION ANCHOR SPEAKS ABOUT HER WORK CLOTHES WITH LEANNE SHAPTON

  LEANNE: Tell me about your flannel shirt.

  ALEX: I have three flannel shirts. I wear them to work with my jeans and I literally wait until the very last moment to change into my work clothes. I bring my work outfits with me, I have a garment rack in my office. The show is live every day from four to five p.m., so wearing my flannel shirt, I go get hair done around midday, and then edit scripts until 3:15, then I put on my dress, run down to makeup, and then run to set. I’m always late. As soon as the show is over I run back upstairs, take off the makeup, take off the dress. As soon as I can physically get out of that clothing I do.

  LEANNE: Describe the shirt.

  ALEX: It’s awesome, actually. It always happens that I get caught in the rain after I get out of my shrink’s office, and so I go to Urban Outfitters, which is right around the corner, and inevitably I find something good. I have this one electric-blue flannel sort of Native American–motif shirt. Women have come up and asked me if it was Isabel Marant and I’m like, No, it’s whatever the fucking Urban Outfitter tag says, “Blue Dog” or whatever. It’s super-soft.

  LEANNE: A lot of women seem to go shopping after their shrinks.

  ALEX: You’re in a good mood! You worked it out!

  LEANNE: How do you avoid repeating the outfits you wear on screen?

  ALEX: We’re instituting a new system where I have a little tag or piece of paper that I tape to the outfit so that I know when I last wore it. The volume of clothes needed for TV . . . Chris Matthews told me a couple weeks ago: “I wore the same blazer three days in a row and nobody noticed!” I was so jealous and outraged. It’s ridiculous. You have five suits and that’s all you wear, all year long. Women in television need to have at least three or four weeks’ worth of dresses where there are no repeats, which is a lot of clothing. And then, depending on the season, it’s an insane amount of wardrobe. You really do lose track. I have a hard time recalling what was on the show the day before. And I certainly cannot remember what I wore ten days ago. Hillary Clinton, notoriously, on her plane had taped to one of the walls of her wardrobe the pantsuit rotation. Literally, the first of the month is the pink pantsuit, the 17th of the month is the green pantsuit, the 20th of the month is the blue pantsuit. I remember first being sort of aghast and then thinking, Eureka, that’s exactly what I need to do.

  LEANNE: Was she back-dating them or forward-dating them?

  ALEX: Forward-dating. They were on rotation.

  LEANNE: Wow.

  ALEX: And the press on the plane were like, “Well, it’s the seventeenth—that means the green pantsuit!”

  LEANNE: That’s amazing. So organized. Has anyone ever called you out on wearing the same thing?

  ALEX: Once, when I was just starting on TV. I didn’t have a show yet, I was a contributor. I had a button-down silk shirt. As reporter, you didn’t know if you were going to be on TV, so I wore the same shirt two days in a row, not in real life but for TV purposes. My friend Chris Hayes texted me, “I saw that shirt yesterday,” and I remember being mortified because Chris is not a sartorialist and if he noticed then other people did too. That was my first glimpse into thinking I had to be more cognizant about never repeating things two days in a row.

  LEANNE: How different do you feel in the clothes you have to wear for work?

  ALEX: I definitely feel more focused. The pieces are more body-conscious than the clothes that I would wear in life, so I pay attention to my posture and my shoulders being back and that in no small part has to do with the fact I’m on TV. The clothes convey a message, they establish a physical consciousness I don’t have in my everyday clothes. The clothes are nicer. They’re not Urban Outfitters “Dog Whatever,” they’re more tailored and more fitted and you can’t loaf around in them.

  LEANNE: How have you made those clothes “you,” either by personalizing or by rebelling in small ways?

  ALEX: I think on some level I personalize by the kinds of designers I pick. Once in a while I’ll find myself in a newscasterish dress and it feels spiritually apocalyptic. I do try to make a conscious effort to pick from lines that are more creative. There’s a public side of it—can anybody tell the difference between that Row dress and J.Crew—probably not, but there’s the personal satisfaction one gets from just knowing that this is from a different place. It’s not just about price, it’s about the thinking that went into it. I’m a bit reliant on that private knowledge. In a lot of aspects in TV, I know that I’m presenting myself as this public person, but privately I know that I’m actually like this.

  LEANNE: Has anything really backfired?

  ALEX: Volume. There was this beautiful Jil Sander dress that was one of the first purchases I made. Like a trench dress, beautiful, but totally did not work on TV. I remember just being devastated. It was expensive and I thought, This is the kind of clothing I’m going to wear and it’s going to be my identity. And it just did not work at all. Now it’s part of my wardrobe. My work clothes exist. . . . I literally cannot wear them unless I’m in front of the camera.

  LEANNE: Tell me about shopping. Do you shop with someone?

  ALEX: When I first started in TV, I shopped with a personal shopper at Barneys. And I did my first big wardrobe purchases with her. Her name is Laura Mannix, and she’s great, really talented. She works with a lot of people in TV and is a serious fashion person in a lot of ways but understands the profession. One issue with shopping with Laura is that she always picks out incredible pieces, but sometimes they are just too sophisticated for television. And there’s a limiting nature to the shot—I’m at a desk, as opposed to, say, the Today show, where you see more of the anchors’ bodies; they’re standing up, they’re sitting down, there’s more room to be creative, and people can really see the silhouette of a dress. Whereas for an anchor at a desk, lines have to be sharp and standard. I now use Laura for special things. When I was on Conan O’Brien’s show we worked together and she got me a great outfit for that. But now I shop with my executive producer, Dana Haller, a lot, or do a lot of shopping on my own. I’ve sort of figured out what works and what doesn’t. Dana is really good—she has beautiful taste in clothing that’s very different from mine and we’ll look at stuff together. It’s like shopping with a sister insofar as we have a shorthand. She’ll pick out stuff that I would not pick out for myself. But I’d say I shop half-half, sometimes by myself, sometimes with Dana.

  LEANNE: Do you notice women on the street?

  ALEX: Women are so used to being given the once-over. I know what that feels like, as every woman does, so I don’t want to do that to other women, but I definitely notice them. I never ask people where their outfit is from, but I will definitely think, Oh I need to be wearing more white sailor pants or whatever, then I go home and do that weird thing where I try and duplicate what I’ve seen. It never works.

  LEANNE: How do you feel when you see footage and photographs of yourself?

  ALEX: It’s by far been the most traumatic part of the whole thing. I’m always like: Pull the camera back! Lower the lights! And they’re like: You’re not doing fucking radio, Alex, this is television. It’s a weird thing to be something that people watch every day and that people have opinions about. You know what struck me as crazy: One time a producer said, “Oh, my mom called. She loved your haircut.” And it dawned on me that it was not only my mom that was looking at my haircut, it was other people’s moms. Moms I don’t know about. Moms all over the place that may have opinions about my haircut. If I think too much about that, I get really freaked out. That said, I can see a transformation in myself looking back to when I first started doing TV and the way I carry myself and the stuff I wear. I’m more comfortable having my picture taken, but for someone who is on live television every day I am remarkably awkward still.

&
nbsp; COMPLIMENT

  “SCARF”

  Mid-November, 10:30 a.m. A university in southern Ontario. The elevator is going down. A twenty-something woman with dark skin and green eyes wears a brown leopard-print scarf around her neck. It’s an indoors outfit, an indoors scarf.

  SHEILA: That’s a nice scarf.

  WOMAN: Oh, thank you!

  (They giggle. The woman searches for something to say.)

  WOMAN: They sell so many beautiful ones down here [in the lobby of the university commons].

  SHEILA: Is that where you found it?

  WOMAN: I got this— I was in Spain last year, and I picked it up, but I’ve been seeing them all around everywhere.

  SHEILA: Really? I actually haven’t seen anything . . . It’s such a nice color.

  WOMAN: Thank you. Yeah, I’ve seen one just like this. There’s a lady who has a scarf stand—

  SHEILA: Oh, yeah?

  The elevator doors open. They exit and walk into the foyer.

  WOMAN: I haven’t seen her for a little while but—

  She points at a pink scarf hanging on a scarf stand in the lobby.

  WOMAN: I feel like this one right here is the opposite color. Well, different color. So check it out!

  SHEILA: I will! Thanks! (They part.)

  COLLECTION

  CHARLOTTE YOSHIMURA’s navy blazers

  CONVERSATION

  AN OLDER WOMAN GOING THROUGH HER CLOSET

  PAMELA BAGULEY as told to Leanne Shapton

  This cream one I bought in Turkey on holiday with my mother. It was in a shop window near the hotel for £30. John’s mother, when she came to stay, always used to go through my wardrobe, which was in the spare room where she slept. She was very nosy, and she didn’t like me, horrible old bitch, so on the price tag I added a zero so it read £300. She’d tell John how extravagant I was.

  That one I bought in a market in Italy. When I bought it, my friend Frankie said, “What have you bought that for?” but then she admitted it didn’t look bad when it was on. I wore it once. It’s got horses on it, so I wore it when I went to an evening that was about horses—about horse racing. I’ve never worn it since, because another friend said, “Oh, you can wear that when you’re ninety.” That put me off.

  This was my outfit for my fiftieth birthday. I bought it in Harrods. It’s Max Mara. We went with some friends to hear Gerard Kenny at the Café Royal. It was a great night, but the trousers sort of stick to you, they’re not right.

  Most of these I’ve only worn once.

  This I wore when I met Margaret Thatcher. It must be over thirty years old. I’ll never wear it again because I won’t go sleeveless. My arms have had it.

  That I had made in Egypt. I’d wear it, but the dye comes off. I put it on once and thought, “Hmmm, what’s all this black?” They used cheap vegetable dye.

  This is all evening—that’s my ballgown. I’ve only worn that once. I love the color.

  This I have never worn, ever. It’s far too big. God knows what possessed me to buy it. Helen McAlinden is a designer—an Irish girl who has a shop. I honestly must have been . . . I mean, look at the size of it! I honestly. I have never, ever. It just hangs there. I’ve never worn it.

  That’s my lovely dress that I love. I feel good in that. Don’t look at the price. £545. If anything happens to me just make sure my clothes are looked after, will you? Don’t put them in a bin bag.

  Gill gave me this suit because it didn’t fit her anymore. The skirt was really long, grandma-y, and actually I didn’t like it that much, but when I tried it on I thought I looked good in it and I liked it and have actually worn it quite a lot. But I had the skirt shortened. Gill said, “You’ve had that skirt of mine shortened!” And I said, “You gave it to me!” And she said, “I wanted it back.” She said she gave me the jacket but lent me the skirt. She knew that I had this large microwave plate, and she said, “Well, you can give me that microwave plate for it.” And then she said, “You’d better buy me a decent Christmas present.”

  This is what I want to surprise Noel in, with a sexy red skirt. I’ll have to get some really nice black shoes, very high, to go with it. If I could just get to see him. . . .

  That I’ve only ever worn once. I bought it in Hong Kong in 1972. I’m saving it for when I’m with somebody really nice. I wore that when I was with Sugar. Sugar was the love of my life. There was an eightieth-birthday party for a friend of ours, Bobby, and I said to Vicky, “I hope Sugar’s not going to be there.” And she said, “Oh no, he’s not friendly with Bobby, he won’t be there.” Anyway, when I got there I went to sit with some friends, and as I was sitting there somebody said, “Sugar’s here with his wife.” So I felt really, really strange and I avoided looking. But I felt I looked okay, I was happy, I was slim. Anyway, a bit later on I went to the ladies’, and as I came back he was standing at the bar on his own, so we started to talk and a lot of people were noticing because everybody knows how he felt about me and how I felt about him. People were looking and nodding. It got a little bit embarrassing. There were things I wanted to say to him about what had happened—that I wanted to say I was sorry for. Anyway, his wife came over, little thing, unattractive, and Sugar said, “Oh, this is Pam.” She said, “Oh, you’re the ex.” And Sugar said, “We’ve been married for thirty-three years, it was thirty-odd years ago!” It was just the way she said it, she just looked me up and down. After thirty years, for heaven’s sake! So then I wandered over back to the bar, excused myself. And it was strange . . . I knew the way Sugar was looking at me. You never, ever . . . (starts to cry) Anyway, I went back to the bar and Howard, who is an evil toad, said, “Oh, he should have married you, she’s awful.” But we couldn’t. He was Jewish. I couldn’t have converted. And I wasn’t nice. I was horrible, you see, that’s what I’m sorry for. That’s what I wanted to say. We were in the South of France and I said some really horrible things about his mother, and I never should have said them because they were hurtful and horrible. His mother had given up everything for him, his sister wasn’t well. But I just couldn’t see. You know, nobody’s ever loved me like Sugar did. He knew how selfish, mean, spiteful I could be—all the bad things about me—and still didn’t care. And now as one gets older, you hide those things. You’d think as you get older . . . (cries)

  SURVEY

  Souvankham Thammavongsa

  When do you feel most attractive?

  After I have written something I really like. It makes me feel so beautiful and timeless. Also, after I come out of a salon. It reminds me of being a child, when my mother used to cut my hair or give me baths. Having someone else groom me makes me feel attractive. Being clean makes me feel attractive.

  Are there any clothing items that you have in multiple?

  I don’t have items in multiple, but I do wear the same outfit on several occasions. What I seem to be wearing a lot right now is a navy blue or brown skirt with a black top.

  What is your process getting dressed in the morning?

  I think about what I’m doing for the day and who I might be meeting and the weather. I think about the neighborhood, and if I feel safe there or not. I think about the kind of transit I will be in—subway, train, bus, a taxi—and what I will be carrying around with me. That will determine the kind of shoes I will wear. If I don’t know the neighhorhood, flat shoes are a must. I always wear a skirt and flats with a black top in different variations. I have three or four items I change around to make it look different, but if you paid attention you can tell I only have three or four things.

  Is there anyone you talk to about clothing or style?

  A good friend of mine had expensive taste, and when I spent time with her, she would take me into all these stores I would be too afraid to go into, and she’d tell me to try things on. She would order people around to bring me clothes. Then we would go to other stores and find items that were similar to the expensive ones we liked. But we had an idea of what “good” clothing was like. She showed me what
looked good on me and what colors worked best, and she wasn’t afraid to say to me, “Are you wearing your ugly sweater again?” She also taught me what to expect from clothes, and what it should feel like when you are wearing good clothes. Quality clothes are expensive, but they also last forever. She taught me to care about my body—to keep it healthy, to go to the gym, because then whatever you put on, cheap or expensive, it will look great on you. Always have your clothes tailored if they don’t fit right, and save money by taking sewing classes. She taught me to care for my hair and skin and nails. You can put on the fanciest thing, and if you don’t take care of those things, nothing will look good. She also helped me throw away clothes. Some items are too full of memories of who you were and who you were with, that to move on, you have to throw them away. I bought this beautiful dress once, hoping to wear it for a special occasion with the person I loved, but then he stopped loving me before we had an occasion to go to. Every time I opened the closet and I saw this dress, I was reminded that I wasn’t loved and the occasion I was waiting for never happened. So I threw it away.

  Do you think you have taste or style? Which is more important? I think I have taste, and I try to choose things to fit that taste. My taste is often informed by things I like to read and look at. I think taste is more important than style. Style can change and be influenced by trends, but your taste is like your soul and it’s forever. I think taste is like the bubble in the level. You measure everything else by that. Style is a thing that’s outside you, changing and flowing like clouds and weather.

  When you see yourself in photographs, what do you think?

  I hate to see myself in photographs because I think I’m prettier and more charming in real life. A photograph never catches the life-force I have when I look in the mirror and can see myself. In a photograph, I think my cheeks are really big, like I am hoarding nuts for the winter, and I am always scowling and looking unfriendly or sad. Sometimes I think my head is so big and round it looks like a volleyball. I’m loyal and warm and funny, and a photograph never catches that.