Where did you get those pants!?

This week's short story submission!  Enjoy!

After weeks of waiting on a special order for custom tailored yellow faux fur pants, I was told that the particular fabric was no longer available. The store did have them on the rack, already made and in my size, but... they were pink. Originally, I was very opposed to wearing anything pink and it took some serious convincing from the shop owner before I even tried them on in the dressing room. This fellow was so confident I'd be pleased with the results once I ventured out into the world wearing them that he made me a most amazing and rare offer. He let me have the pants completely for free, but on one condition. I had to bring back pictures of myself having a blast in these pants that he could post on the wall to show other customers. Considering the hefty cost I'd have been a fool to turn this deal down, so off I went with a bulging bagful of faux fur frolic.
I soon learned there's no denying the power of pink fur pants when it comes to meeting fun new friends. Only five minutes into my first daring excursion someone came up excitedly asking where did I get these crazy pants and if they could please touch. Clearly there was something simply irresistible about these two-legged wonders. That was only the beginning of many who felt utterly compelled to come up and just start petting. I'm sure if these pants could talk they would undoubtedly get me into all kinds of trouble, like a gossipy best friend who knows everything and somehow can't resist telling the whole world, even after swearing to absolute secrecy.
So in time I went back to that little clothing store and made good on my promise. I brought them a burgeoning collection of photos showing all the friendly folks these wonderful pants had introduced me to on my travels, plus a check amounting to twice the original asking price. But most importantly, I hand-delivered a "thank you" card to the shop owner for encouraging me to get over my pink prejudice, take a risk, and by doing that ultimately discover what came to be my best Summer ever.
Of course, now wonder what would have happened if I had gotten them in yellow.

-by Sean Christopher

Your Perfect New Year's Look!

New Year's Eve is coming right around the corner and everyone will be decked out in their dazzling party dresses.  Why not find yourself one too?  One of our customers Doreen did!

Or are you craving a more versatile look?  Try our Butter dress by Nadia!  This dress can be fashioned to  your liking!  One dress, one size, possibilities countless!

It's winter season and every dress needs a wrap!  Look fabulous in this poncho!

xoxo, Style Girl

A Warm Welcoming Environment

Love the winter holidays?  Can't help the window shopping?  And most of all, find yourself wandering the streets of downtown Davis?  Drop by The Wardrobe and say hello!

These charming customers have!

We'd love for you to come check us out!

 Take a peek at this week's short story written by Alia Jordan!

I’m glad that clothes can’t talk.  Your clothes know more about you than any other living being could possibly know, and they are silently judging you.  If they were conscious and chatty, they might say some nasty things.

My sports bra, for instance, might curse me for shortening its life with frequent changing and laundering, and start complaining to perfect strangers about how much I sweat at the gym.  Or announce that it’s feeling a little dingy and perhaps I should be using warm water and harsh detergent once in a while rather than the perpetual cold water wash with Woolite.  It might also tell people that it’s starting to stretch out beyond all recognition because I can’t lay off the pizza and wine.

Then there were those few (dozen) times that I partied all night in Rick Owens and woke up on friends’ couches with a dry, terrycloth tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.  What if my outfit rebelled and decided to talk to passersby on the walk of shame?  “Do you know how much she enjoys wearing me?  She never takes me off.  She even sleeps in me.  Is that any way to treat an expensive dress?”  Rick at least would understand, if not his actual clothing.  His frail garments were designed to be grungy, glamorously grungy, worn until they decay.  When you can’t take them respectable places anymore, you can finally wear them to Burning Man and let the playa have its way with them, that is, if they can’t whine about the heat and the dust. 

If clothes could talk, they couldn’t be reused or resold.  They might spill your secrets and get you blackmailed or fired.  No more tax-deductible donations or sales on eBay.

I know that I’m projecting a pretty cynical worldview on my wardrobe.  It’s quite possible that if your clothes could talk, they would be trustworthy and say only positive things about you, like cherished friends.  Probably not the clothing I wear, though.  Alexander McQueen, Junya Watanabe, and Rick Owens make beautiful, impractical, capricious pieces that seem like BFFs rather than real friends, prone to temper tantrums and catty gossip, like the divas they were meant to drape.  You might be safe from scrutiny if you wear Eddie Bauer, but if my clothing could talk, it would have to be burned.  In a hot fire.  With lots of gasoline.  Maybe even after just one wearing.

My philosophy is that if clothes could talk, they would look radically different than they do now.  They would have been designed for disposability, like diapers, made with the cheapest materials and foreign labor, bad for the planet.  I’m grateful that they are mute, made to flatter our imperfect bodies perfectly, wordlessly, letting the ego keep the job of self-condemnation, where it belongs.

The Gentille Life of a Black Cashmere V-Neck

It's time again for another lovely December short story submission! Here's a compelling story about a cashmere sweater by Eve West Bessier.

She bought me as a luxury, a softness against her skin at a time of loss and loneliness. I was a splurge in a lean year, an investment in better fortunes ahead. I fit her exactly the way she loves, not too tightly, not baggy or with a look that says, “this sweater belongs on someone else’s body, in someone else’s life.” I’m all hers, expressing an innate radiance with signature elegance. Yes, I know, I’m glowing. I’m all over this woman!

I am so light that my warmth comes as a surprise to her. Right away she discovers that I am more versatile than she’d imagined, not just a black basic for an upscale event worn with a silver and turquoise pendant. When she hikes, she takes me along as that essential layer to ward off the chill in a sudden shift of weather. I am never left behind when she leaves town for a weekend adventure. And I am washed with great care and hung to dry only in the mildest of sunlight.

I never irritate her skin, and I know how much she appreciates this by the way she pulls me on over a sleeveless camisole or tank top. I am timeless in my styling, so she will wear me with fondness long after other sweaters begin to show their passé appeal.

Last month, she attended a reunion luncheon with some of her high school classmates. I was honored that she wore me with her leopard-patterned skirt, looking sophisticated yet artsy. I was happy to be there, keeping her warm in the slightly over-cooled banquet room and whispering to her softly with my gentle caress, at any hint of insecurity. I told her to have confidence. “You look great! Time has given you grace. Give yourself a lot of credit!” I like to remind her that small luxuries are well deserved. It’s part of my job as a cashmere sweater to uphold the tradition we sweaters carry to bring to our wearers a sense of well-being and presence. We are members of the “fine washables” family, but not so needy as to be “dry clean only.”

I like that I’m a classic V-neck, a bit sporty with a slight edge of the masculine and a nod to the Ivy League. I’ve always found a round neckline to be a bit too pearly girlish, especially in powder-pink or white. Don’t get me wrong, I support all cashmeres as a cut above the crowds of cotton and, dare I say it, more prestigious than lamb’s wool, which can itch a bit at the neck and cuffs. Angora is adorable but let’s face it, it sheds something dreadful! Go with cashmere, my Dear!

Let me close by telling you this most touching vignette. She’s chosen me to be her Christmas sweater this year, accented by a hand-beaded strand of colored balls as delicate as daydreams. I will be at the Christmas Eve party, hob-knobbing with the other cashmeres and eyeing those gaudy teddy bear sweaters with glee and an ever-so-gentle reproach! Ha! Ha! Ho! Watch out for the mistletoe!

Oh, she’s just hung me up in her closet on that soft, padded satin hanger on which I love to rest, knowing my shoulders will stay neat and rounded and my downy softness will not be too hard pressed against the rest of her wardrobe.

I think she loves me best of all. Oh, how my heart flutters to know it. So let me show my gratitude by wishing Merry Christmas to all, and to all (even the poly-blends among you) a goodnight!

Let's get ready for Christmas!

Christmas is right around the corner and people are still looking for the perfect present.  Need help finding one?  Come into The Wardrobe for our lovely gift ideas!

Holiday Open House!

In conjunction with downtown Davis' "Share the Joy" The Wardrobe is proud to present a "Made in Davis Holiday Open House" on Thursday, December 10th, from 7:00 - 9:00 pm.  Meet some of Davis' most talented designers as they showcase some of their accessories at 20% OFF. Check out one-of-a-kind knit hats by Norma Rice, Wrap Me Up scarves by Marcia Munich and sparkly rock art earrings by Mary Tracy. Also, choose from locally made journals by Freights. Celebrate the season in style and take care of your holiday shopping locally.

Come check us out!

The Dress That Got Away!

As you all know, The Wardrobe has put together a short contest story for the month of November.  Thank you to all our participants and be sure to keep checking for more contests!  Congratulations to Chelsea!  This story is lovely reminiscence of how one came to find her wedding dress.  It is something we can all find ourselves relating to, one way or another whether it's about a pair of shoes or in this case, a memorable dress for a very special day.






“She's found the dress!!”

I had not found the dress.

“Ladies, this is the dress she'll wear walking down the aisle...”

I hoped that this was it, but, honestly, I was just exhausted from searching. I liked this dress, and I hoped my family would too. My aunties and cousin had come to the shop to take their first look at the gown I would wear on the most meaningful day of my life.

Their faces showed it all. There was polite oohing and aahing, but my supporters were clearly not impressed. After the niceties, they gently began suggesting a few alterations to make the dress more fitting for the occasion—and also create an entirely different dress.

While I was sad that my family fashionistas didn't love it, I knew in my heart that they were right. I had settled.

This shopping process had been one long battle. This was to be my dream wedding dress—that made me feel like a princess. The reality of the hundreds of size 14 dresses I had tried on made me feel like a potato. I desperately wanted to be done with the dress hunt, but luckily my family didn't let me stop searching.

When I had reached the point of not trying anymore, I finally looked in a dress shop down the street from my house in Davis. My mom was in town, and I thought I could procrastinate a little more if I just pretended to look. When I was in the dressing room, my mom handed me the first dress.

I had found the dress.

It was a full length, ivory Sue Wong gown with a lace overlay and beautiful flower bead-work. It was nothing like I had ever seen in a bridal magazine, and I loved it for that. This time I didn't need my family to agree because I was confident. I finally felt princessy.

On the day of the wedding, I knew it was right all over again. The ceremony and reception were all taking place in my aunt's beautiful, fairy-tale-like terraced garden. As I got dressed and we took the first photographs, the original group that had talked me out of the first gown finally got to see the replacement. This time the aahs were real.

As wonderful as I felt walking up the terrace path in my one-of-a-kind gown, I was doubly happy to see my fiancé in an awesome ivory tux standing next to his black-suited groomsmen. Not only did I feel beautiful and like I stood out in a garden of spectacular views, but my husband, the man of honor, was the perfect accompaniment on our special day.

At the reception that night, when the temperature dropped, my husband took off his jacket and put it around my shoulders. My favorite pictures of that day show me glowingly, absolutely happy, wearing a men's ivory jacket over my special dress.

-Chelsea Thommarson