In Fashion: Armadillo and Peacock

 I’m a great admirer of the work of linguist Deborah Tannen. She wrote “You Just Don’t Understand: Men and Women in Conversation” and other books. A 1993 essay in The New York Times Magazine, "Marked Women, Unmarked Men," especially struck me. Observing men and women at an academic event, she wrote, 

“Each of the women at the conference had to make decisions about hair, clothing, makeup and accessories, and each decision carried meaning. Every style available to us was marked. The men in our group had made decisions, too, but the range from which they chose was incomparably narrower.”

Ain't that the truth. Women’s decisions resonate and, if asked, they’d tell the stories of clothing and accessories: where bought, who was she shopping with, the occasion, the hair stylist and salon. When writing this, I asked my partner Naomi to run down the details of which she wore at that moment. She related, “The pants and blouse come from J. Jill because they fit me. Clothes are hard to find because I’m petite so when I found these pants fit, I got them in four colors. The earrings come from the market at Yellow Monkey Village in Cross River. I was there with my friend Suzanne and artisans had displays and I liked these.”  

I’m proof that men’s range of options is narrow. I’ve joked I can dress in total darkness because my clothes are so standardized: jeans or khakis, mostly button-down shirts from Lands’ End , J. Crew, LL Bean, Brooks Brothers and especially Eddie Bauer, switching to Tommy Bahama beach shirts for hot weather. My shopping venue of choice: Goodwill stores and factory outlets, where I hunt for Levi's jeans and Merrell's hiking shoes. 

Still, if you scan the perimeter of my accessories you'll see that I carefully choose my watches and my ties. They carry a lot of delightful emotional freight and thrill me when I strap the watch on or pull the tie snug up against the neck of my button-down shirts. They might not be as noticeable or dramatic as, say, jade earrings, strappy high heels, or a little black dress from Nordstrom’s, but a careful observer could tease meaning from my adornment. Just ask.

Back when I had to wear ties to work as a member of the cubicle-dwelling white-collar proletariat, I settled on my specific style. I adored the Art Deco look for ties, with their bold colors and patterns. I also had a thing for  Italian ties I got in Italy in 1989, giving them so much use they finally fell apart. Two orange ties from the Princeton University Store are reserved for alumni events, where we Tigers swan about in glorious combinations of orange and black and nobody thinks we look peculiar. These days, I wear ties two or three times a year. My go-to ties for the past 20 or so years were designed by Grateful Dead leader Jerry Garcia. They were a gift and I treasure them. Garcia’s ties, like his music, totally sync with my tastes. What worked 40 years ago works now in my “touch of grey” phase of life.

The essential tie collection

Now, let’s talk about watches. I got into watches as a kid. I was big into 60s and 70s style watch bands, woven leather, black leather with multiple buckles (heavy metal!) and military olive. As an adult with some discretionary income, I indulged in watches that did a lot more than tell time. I started with an Art Deco Gruen piece from a flea market on the Upper West Side. On that 1989 Italian t, I bought a Raketa watch from the USSR, then a decade later two more, a Poljot (Flight) and a Komandirskie. The Raketa’s perpetual calendar ran from 1980 to the inconceivably distant year of 2000. They’re very distinctive looking—like all Russian watches—keep terrible time. As such, they're a perfect metaphor for the dysfunction of Soviet communism. But I still like them and wear them since my smart phone gives me the right time, anyway.

Heavy metal from Gruen, the USSR and Seiko.

The exciting news is I achieved my boyhood dream of getting a vintage Hamilton watch. This isn’t a modern digital version made by Swatch in Switzerland. I’m talking about the real deal from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, the ones advertised for decades in National Geographic. I bought a Hamilton and an Elgin in a package deal at Shop Goodwill for a mere $40, then spent many many times that amount to get them overhauled and working. While the Elgin is cranky still, the Hamilton runs fine and is one of my adult dress-up watches, along with a watch from my brother Cooper. He’s a true watch connoisseur with an eye for fine mechanics. He got me a vintage Longines that had sat for 50 years in a Dallas safe deposit box before it came his way. When you see me at a swanky Westchester Country art opening or cocktail party, I'll be wearing my Longines or Hamilton with a Jerry Garcia tie.

I feel a lot of affection for my ties and watches. They define my look and add a splash of color and idiosyncratic style to the Levi's and Eddie Bauer schema I've always favored. I may dress like a colorless armadillo, but sometimes I my inner peacock take flight.

Raketa with the 20-year calendar.