Shoes

By Mabel Yang


This is a pair of black Anne Klein sling back heels.


Classy, yet trendy enough for a 17, soon-to-be-18, year old senior about to leave behind the remains of her childhood  and step into the world of adulthood. I found them amidst racks of shoes in a discount store and scored them for an unbelievable $15. And they were completely new. It was probably love at first sight (and I’ve loved many a pair of shoes), but this was the pair I had to have and for such an affordable price, it was like I was meant to have them. Clearly, destiny was calling. It was perfect.


Looking back, I can only say that I was right.


They’re a little battered now, but I guess you can say the little scrapes and such are battle scars. They’re well-earned however and I’m happy, nay, proud to wear them still. These babies have been an essential part of my wardrobe and have been there for some of the most memorable events of my life.


Soon after I acquired them, I walked across the stage in front of my family, friends, and peers to get my high school diploma and to say goodbye  and hello to the next chapter of my life. They were there for the first of many job interviews and they were there when I finally landed the job. They were there for parties and shopping trips and reunions. And they’re still here and they’re gonna be here for a while as I experience many more firsts in the upcoming months and years.


They’re a part of my battle armor. They help me present to the world that I am a strong, confident person and they’re still cute as heck. They have sentimental value and when I look at them, I remember every single one of those moments.


(P.S. Thanks, Mom! Best grad gift ever.)

The Kook Dress

The Kook Dress

By: Joy Policar

My husband, Ray, of 18 years walked into my study and inquired, “What’s the kook dress doing out?” My 17-year- old son, Kyle, followed him in and asked, “Is that your wedding dress? Wow, it’s prettier than in the pictures, but it’s still weird for a wedding dress.” Although I bought the not wedding dress at Nordstrom, I truly believe this magical garment was destined for me to wear at our wedding ceremony on January 4, 1992. As I glance at it, informally draped over the top of its silver box, it strikes me that I have never seen any garment like this one before or since. Kook is a term of endearment used in our family to signify amusement and the appreciation of originality. It really is a kook dress!

This floor length straight white shift bedecked with pearls and iridescent white beads in vertical lines starting below the bust to the floor; and rhinestones, gold and silver sequence form patterns accentuating the bust, V neck, and gold fringed puffed sleeves-- do not speak wedding dress. This form fitting dress hugged my hour glass figure in all the right places. Although it may sound gaudy, it truly spoke elegance, sophistication, and refinement. The dress mirrored my soul.

I was 35 when I married the 39-year-old Ray—a second marriage for me and a first for him. When I left my first marriage of five years, I vowed that I would never settle again. I wanted a man that I was head over heels in love with. That was a tall order because for five years I had been divorced and was living in a beautiful condo I owned, enjoying my teaching career, and relishing the social life I had created. I did not have children, so my biological clock was ticking loudly. Yet I was holding out for a man who I was magnetically attracted to—namely, tall, dark, and handsome. Razor sharp intelligence, a quick wit, and social graces were also part of the criteria. I dated oodles of guys because I had discovered my power as a woman in my early to mid-thirties. I had come into my beauty—able to reel in 20 something guys, plus I had enough life experience and confidence to hold my own with men in their 30s and 40s. So I kissed lots of frogs and had a good time doing it, but reconciled myself to being single.

On Thursday night, April 11, 1991, after a long day of teaching my eleventh grade English classes, I went out for cocktails with a girlfriend at a popular singles bar in Sacramento. As I walked to the bar to get a drink, I struck up a conversation with Ray. Not only was I physically attracted to him; but also as we talked and laughed, I could not believe that he was measuring up to the standards from which I was unwilling to bend. I was bursting with excitement when he invited me to his house for dinner that Saturday night.

There was a drawback. Regardless of the fact that I held high standards, I did not believe that I deserved a man that could fit this criteria. Who wouldn’t want a man like this, and who was I to demand one? What’s worse, how was I going to deal with my insecurities if the man of my dreams was attracted to me? It was easy to date guys that did not measure up because I didn’t believe I did either. I was just a gal from across the tracks. I was the first in my family to get a Bachelor’s degree, and as a teacher, I was the star of my family of origin and extended family. I had pulled myself up, but felt I lacked refinement.

Ray was a successful attorney, and he was smart. He went straight through law school and had been an established attorney for 14 years. He had a beautiful home in Carmichael and a vacation home in Lake Tahoe. My insecurities were surfacing with a vengeance. I grew up in South Sacramento living in a 1,100 square foot home. College educations were not encouraged in my family, but in his family professional careers requiring graduate level degrees were an expectation. Ray’s mother made it clear to me that “Ray was not the marrying kind.” Although his family wanted him to wed, his family admired him for holding out. He was protecting the family’s assets while waiting for that special woman, and I couldn’t believe he had chosen me.
I have always loved clothes and for my wedding day, I wanted to wear a dress that reflected my depth and complexity. I could not bring myself to wear a traditional, demure gown—one his family might picture his bride wearing. Weddings always mark transition in a woman’s life, but I knew I was making a radical change. I embraced my new role as wife with enthusiasm, but I still wanted to hang on to my independence, and the place I had earned in the professional world. It was as if overnight my social class identity shifted, and along with this change, I might lose a cherished part of myself. My working-class roots are a part of my essence, a piece of my core that keeps me grounded and ignites my drive. The hand work that created the intricate sequenced and jeweled patterns on the dress told the story of the initiatory journey I was undergoing. When I slipped it on, it whispered, “You are brave and you wear me proudly—you are enough. I am honored to be on your body, so I can mirror to the world your bold elegance that defies convention. You go girl; I was made for you and you alone. I tell your story.”

Special Occasion Wear

By Helen Trejo


I learned to sew when I was 14 and ever since then I anticipated making a dress that reflected my creative spirit. This long awaited hope became a reality when I drafted patterns and constructed my prom dress. The dress is made of dark green satin and dark gray charmeuse. I chose dark green because green has been my favorite color since second grade and I thought gray complemented it nicely.
I was ecstatic when I completed my prom dress and wore it to my senior prom, but saddened at the thought that I would probably never wear it again. During my first year at UC Davis, my green dress hung in my closet at home, begging to catch a glimmer of light and my muslin mock-up lied messily folded up in one of my drawers, yearning for attention. It was my original, foundation piece that guided me as I made my green prom dress; unfortunately, it never received the attention it deserved.
Interest in my mock-up dress emerged during Winter Break as I looked through one of my miscellaneous drawers and found my folded mock-up prom dress under a pile of folders. I took it out of the drawer, unfolded it, and looked at the inside of the skirt where I sewed panels of different muslin pieces together. I remembered how difficult it was to create the perfect panels for the skirt section. I had to consider the circumference of the skirt when I joined it to the bodice front and back, and the bottom flare of the dress. As I looked at my mock-up, I thought of how it would look from far away and realized that the seams of the panels would not show if a person saw it from far away.
Streams of creative thoughts ignited as I held my mock-up dress. I opened my closet and took out my green prom dress. I looked at it and noticed uniformity in its texture and color. The satin and charmeuse were both soft and smooth at my touch, and the dark green and gray harmonized with each other rather than contrasted. I took out batches of left-over fabric I saved from previous projects and began to pick out fabrics that I liked. I cut them into rectangular pieces and laid them out on my living room floor. As I looked at the pieces, images of me making my first tote bag popped into my head, sewing my first dress for a class, my twin sister cutting out her fabric for a pair of pants, and my sister wearing the graduation dress she made. I was in awe of the load of memories my mock-up prom dress would have.
I appliquéd each rectangular piece of fabric onto the mock-up and made it more vivid with the contrasting colors and prints on the fabrics. I also hand embroidered swirls of different colors to make the dress lively and as dynamic as possible.
This dress transformed from a plain dress into an eloquent dress that could speak for itself by conveying an abundance of memories just by the sight of the fabrics. Although it took me an enormous amount of time to complete the handwork on this dress, I treasured every second. I was completing something that I shared a strong personal connection with because it was a mock-up of my prom dress and carried fabrics full of memories. It took a lot of patience and determination to complete and I am very proud this dress. By completing this dress I felt empowered to complete anything I wish. This dress was in the sustainable portion of two fashion shows and continuously brightens my day as it hangs in my living room.

 

Finding Confidence Around My Neck

By Lesley Miller


I stood in my closet, right foot resting flamingo style on the left knee. This is my thinking pose; and on Monday night I needed to make an important fashion decision for the following day.
Most days, getting dressed is a short process that happens while brushing my teeth in the morning. My office allows us to dress casually, so unless I have a meeting or event, I don’t need to look perfectly put together—which is fortunate because I’m not a perfectly put together type of girl. My makeup is minimal, my hair is usually straight, and the clothes I wear are often from Target.
I’ve always wanted to dress nicer than I do. Don’t most women say that? Even the ones who are always well dressed? I remember feeling fashion challenged for the first time in sixth grade when all the other girls got body suits and Guess denim shorts. Suddenly, the clothes I had from Limited Too didn’t seem as mature. My mom assured me I looked cute, but I sure didn’t feel as sophisticated as all the other girls.
Sophisticated is exactly how I wanted to feel on Tuesday night. A co-worker and I were nominated for a business award in Sacramento. It was an honor I didn’t expect, and one I felt highly unqualified to win. For that reason, I wanted to look the part of an actual adult. I didn’t want to be the 28 year old kid who shows up to a bar wearing Limited Too when everyone else has on body suits and Guess shorts.
I tried on several outfits. None of them seemed right. How do girls know which shirts go with which pants? When do I need a skinny belt? Can people see my bra through this? Does an undershirt look silly? It’s spring—but it’s raining—so what shoes do I wear? Open? Closed? And, do I have time for a pedicure?
Jonathan didn’t really get it. His most difficult fashion decision each day is deciding what tie to wear. Oddly enough, even this decision can be a challenge for him. And while he gently poked fun of my dramatic closet scene, I found myself lecturing him about how the importance of this very moment and how it might translate to the rest of my career. Was it overly dramatic? Um, yes. (*blush*) But, was it somewhat true? Possibly. Women remember what other women wear—right or wrong—and first impressions count. It’s no wonder we worry so much about finding the perfect skinny belt.
I settled on a short sleeve Target blouse and brown skinny pants. My older heels would have to work, and I’d go without a belt since I don’t own one. The next morning before leaving the house I decided to grab a vintage yellow necklace I’d purchased earlier that week at a consignment store. I’d never shopped at a consignment store before, and it’s rare that I buy jewelry for myself. The necklace was certainly, for me, a step outside the typical.
I fiddled throughout the day with my outfit. The shirt didn’t stay tucked in very well without a belt, and I was cold because of the rainy weather. I started doubting my choice of clothing as soon as I walked into the event not because I was dressed inappropriately but because I am new at this game of playing career woman.
After drinks and appetizers, the award presentation began. I didn’t win. I felt a sense of relief as soon as the last name was called. I wouldn’t have to tromp across that stage in heels with my shirt hanging out. I could go home, change out of the costume, and feel like a kid again.
Shortly after the program, a woman walked up. “You’re Lesley! I’ve wanted to meet you in person.” She was the owner of the consignment store where I’d bought the necklace, and she recognized me from Twitter. I smiled as my hand found its way to my neck.
“This necklace I’m wearing—“ I began.
“Is from our store? Yes. I know. My mom and I recognized it from across the room. It’s so cute. I’m glad you like it,” she said.
I stood a little taller, and smiled a little wider. My self worth isn’t based on appearances. It’s not based on winning an award either. But, in that very short moment, my yellow necklace made me feel like the grown woman I’d been pretending to be.
Maybe I don’t need that skinny belt after all.

Shoes

By Maddy Y.


The one thing you want most when you step into your high school for the first time is to leave as soon as possible with a diploma in hand. That is what you are waiting for once you start out as a freshman. You have fun but you have to keep your attendance up, keep your grades up. It's the daily grind you repeat through sophomore and junior year before you finally become a senior. Senior year is THE dream. That’s right. Capitalized T-H-E. By now, you are able to drive your own car and you have the freedom to go anywhere you want. Since you've got nearly all the credits you need, you only have to take a few classes before you get to go home after lunch. Time passes quickly until the day arrives where you can put on your cap and gown, walk across the stage, and get your diploma. It is the day you finally graduate from high school.
    I start out as a freshman at high school. I have fun but I keep my attendance up, keep my grades up…. Sort of. Kinda. Okay, not really. It's the daily grind I repeat through sophomore and the middle of junior year until I get pulled into my counselor’s office. I’ve been in there so many times that my English teacher hands me the counselor’s note and asks me,” Why are they always calling you down there?” I wasn’t particularly worried since the only reason the counselor would call me down was probably to talk about my class schedule… or so I thought. My counselor doesn’t like to B.S. me and once I am sitting in the seat across from her, she lets me know that my current grades are sliding, I’ve failed classes in the past years that needed to be made up, and there is a possibility of me not being able to  graduate. When she said this, I almost wanted to deny it. I felt like I swallowed a rock that was stuck in my throat. I’m embarrassed to say that my eyes even started to water. She then tells me that I can make it up if I take summer school and spend my senior year retaking the classes.
    This was a much needed wake-up call. I didn’t take school seriously and this was the result. I was always procrastinating, talking to my friends in class and ignoring my work, not caring much about my academics… I had no one to blame but myself for the mess I was in. I agreed to retake the classes but I knew I would have to pass those classes with flying colors so I could graduate. I had to steel myself, keep myself focused on school. To help me do that, I decided to buy the shoes I was going to wear when I walked the stage. It would be a reminder for me to work hard so I could wear those babies when I walked the stage to get my diploma. No heels since I didn’t want to take any chances of me falling when I was walking the stage. Black because school rules said they had to be formal. I looked through many shoe racks in stores until I found THE pair. That’s right. Capitalized T-H-E. Cute black flats with a buckle and pinstripes. They were formal but not too formal. I didn’t even have to look for a pair my size since they fit perfectly when I tried them on. It was destiny.
    I left my "grad flats" on my shoe rack with all my other shoes. In the morning when I put on my shoes to go to school, I'd see the flats and that would be my little reminder to do well in school. Junior year ended. I spent my lovely summer vacation in summer school. Senior year was still THE dream. I didn‘t have a car, not that it mattered. I was too busy to be taking joy rides anyway. I didn‘t go home after lunch since I had retake classes for the rest of the day. Time passed quickly until the day arrived where I put on my cap and gown, walked across the stage in my rockin‘ flats, and got my diploma. It was the day I finally graduated from high school.

Special Occassion Dress

By Ruth Santer


I like clothes to be fun. I love seeing people show their individuality
through a creative outfit and a beautiful spring day feels more festive when
I¹m wearing a fabulous sundress. That being said, the past ten years of my
life, living in a small cow town, have been marked by a significant downward
trend in fanciness. I¹m a mom and I work at home and teach art at an
elementary school, and I¹ve been spending a lot more time in grubby yoga
pants than in the swirling miniskirts accompanied by cowboy boots that were
my signature style when I lived in New York City.  And I¹m 50 now.  Well,
51. I¹m not sure that look really works all that well any more.


But I still love to look at art and go to great performances, so when one of
my best friends suggested we make the trip to NYC to go to the Metropolitan
Opera for the premiere of an opera with a set designed by our favorite
artist, I said yes without a moment¹s hesitation.  Despite growing up on the
East coast and living in NYC for years, I¹d never been to the opera. ³But
what will we wear?² my friend asked, as we finalized plans.


I pondered it.  The tickets were a 50th birthday gift from another friend,
so I felt totally justified in splurging. And I knew just the place.
Although Davis is small, it has a few truly high-quality boutiques.  They
are the kind of places I¹d go out of my way to go to in a city four times
the size, and I love being able to bike there and check out the latest stash
of goodies. The party dress store carries clothes that make me feel
pampered, beautiful and feminine, precious commodities for a woman who
spends a lot of time cleaning up spilled paint.


The dress I found was perfect for my body and for the occasion. I love to
wear brown, but you need black for a night out in New York City, and this
dress combined them. It had a smooth velvet black bodice, a poofy brown
taffeta skirt and interesting hip detail where the two fabrics met that had
a slight, though not overwhelming, Renaissance feel.


I worried it would emerge from my suitcase crushed, and considered putting
it in a box like a wedding gown, but settled on rolling it up and it emerged
unscathed after my red-eye flight. We were staying with friends and felt
like little girls playing dress-up, as we got ready and paraded around for
each other before showing ourselves off to them. They were suitably
impressed by how elegant we both were, and sent us off in a cab from
Brooklyn to midtown Manhattan.


We got to the Met and I had to pose in front of the newly renovated fountain
that I had seen in so many movies. My friend was freezing, but I had my
grandmother¹s Persian lamb jacket and lace up spool-heel boots to finish off
my ensemble and could have stayed outside all night, enjoying the crowds and
the lights. She finally dragged me in and I noticed that the crowd was not
quite as dressed up as I¹d imagined.  This was a very avant-garde
performance, and it looked as though there were a lot of art and music
students who had saved up all year to attend. It wasn¹t the usual crowd,
perhaps, and we actually stood out and attracted lots of admiring looks. Not
an easy feat in New York!  We had amazing seats, the set was transcendent,
and afterwards we went downtown to the meatpacking district, which our
cabbie had informed us was the hip late night place for dinner. We certainly
stood out there!


Much later, as we got ready for bed in our room with a view of the Manhattan
skyline, I was sad to take off my dress.  I'd enjoyed buying it, I'd enjoyed
anticipating the event, and I'd loved wearing it and feeling powerful and
lovely.  Would I have another, equally worthy occasion? I hope so.

Shoes

By Hannah Cole-Leathers


As soon as I stepped out of our hotel, I knew that this day was going to be one for the record books. The sun shone bright through the few clouds over Las Vegas, Nevada and I could see my reflection in the window of our hotel, the Mirage. I waited for my mother to hail a cab so we could start celebrating her thirty-fifth birthday, (for the twelfth time since I had been born). We had planned to come to Las Vegas to take a sort of pilgrimage to a fashion “Mecca” otherwise known as Caesar’s Palace.
      The stores of this expansive Greek themed mall were known to be legendary, and I was more excited than a child in front of a candy shop. Ceiling to floor was adorned with beautiful paintings, gushing fountains, and of course the flashing logos of all of our favorite designers. Every store imaginable was there, from Gucci to Pucci to Prada, not a soul could be disappointed. Of course my mother had to go pay homage to Louise Vuitton, and I would have gone with her, but something else caught my eye. There was a Dolce and Gabbana store just adjacent and I couldn’t help but to notice a flash of purple. I wandered in the store and was immediately drawn to the most amazing pair of heels I had ever seen. They were electric plum, patent leather, wedges. The heel of the shoe alone was about six inches off the ground and I swear that I could hear the straps begging to be buckled around my ankles. I was soon approached by a very cordial, very pregnant sales woman who wanted nothing more in the world than for me to try on these heels.
      “Size 7” I requested, and she was back in a flash. 
      She helped me buckle each of the shiny purple buckles and stood back as I attempted to stand up. Keep in mind that I was only about thirteen years old at this time and had not had the experience of heels before, or the good graces of balance for that matter. So, after successfully standing up I decided to take these magnificent shoes for a test run. I took my time mastering just walking to the door but I soon found my footing…somewhat. I waltzed as proudly as I could right down to Louis Vuitton to show my mother my great discovery. Luckily she was already on her way to meet me, so I didn’t have to attempt walking very far. She took one look at me and then the biggest grin in the world appeared on her face.  My absolute first pair of heels and I had chosen to try these ones, six inch, bright purple, wedges.
      I had no intention of taking these shoes off so I convinced the sales woman to let me walk just around the indoor plaza. I still remember thinking to myself, “left foot…ok good….right foot” and I continued on like this until I noticed that I had become somewhat of a main attraction. The people around had stopped focusing on their gourmet meals and had decided to watch me attempting to walk. Once I got the hang of it I felt like a model, stretching to almost six feet tall, with the six inch boost of course. My presence was commanding and my shoes were absolutely astonishing and I marched right back to my waiting mother, the expecting sales woman, and that fabulous designer store.
       I wish I could have purchased those heels that day, but alas; what is a thirteen year old girl to do with six inch, electric purple wedges? Nonetheless I will always remember those vibrant purple shoes as my first heels. The way I felt in those shoes is exactly how I imagine Carrie Bradshaw must have felt every day on Sex and the City.

Grown-Up Security Blanket

By Ashley Mariano


Knee-high in study guides, piles of homework, and a plethora of other school-related tasks to complete by the end of the night, I had just about given up. We all know the stress that comes with starting a new journey in life. It can be so unbearable that sometimes all you want to do is curl up in a little ball. However, that just isn’t possible when life is THAT hectic. So I thought to myself, “what did I do as a kid? How did I cope with starting a new grade or activity?” Well, if you can recall, we each had our own security blankets that we carried around. I would bring my favorite brown teddy bear, complete with a little pink ribbon, which I hand-made on a kindergarten fieldtrip or wear my cute-as-a-button jelly shoes every day.
But it would be crazy to bring those nostalgic trinkets to my college dorm, let alone wear them around campus. So one morning while I was rifling through my mom’s closet for the 93598th time, I found the most adorable ring! It has a classic, vintage vibe that blends perfectly with my overall style. A nameless ring without a unique story or even remembrance of the place she found it, this tri-color beauty soon became my very own Pandora’s box. But instead of unleashing all of the world’s sins it unleashed all of the strength I needed to buckle down and complete my tasks. Although it can be difficult living independently and away from home this ring gives me the security and reassurance that my family and friends are just a phone call or car ride away.
With all the ups and downs in life I know that just by having this ring on my right index finger I have all the strength, power, and love to persevere with my dreams. So in honor of mother’s day this past weekend, I just wanted to say, thanks mom! And as corny as it sounds, this ring never leaves my finger because your love will never leave my heart (I should start writing Hallmark cards).