chelseahenderson

a quadratic equation

I have a confession to make.

As announced to everyone within earshot of me as I made my way to the Cheverly Prom a few weeks ago, I bought Prada shoes.

(No, not to wear to the Cheverly Prom.)

This should not come as much of a surprise to those who know me, or maybe it will come as a shock. It might be the most indulgent purchase I have ever made, which is why I feel a slight chagrin in this admission. But I fell in love with these shoes when shopping for a dress to wear to Kaitlan’s wedding, and as those on the receiving end of my affection know, my love is not fleeting.

I have a mathematical formula in my head that justifies such a purchase. It goes something like this:

Credit for returned Kate Spade shoes + consignment check from Secondi + price differential between black DVF dress and dress I actually wore = Prada shoes

Shoes are the constant.

I knew I wanted these shoes the moment I slipped my feet into them at Neiman Marcus when trying on dresses. (Note: it’s a clever sales trick to bring into the dressing room a nice pair of shoes to ease your trying on experience.) I made a valiant effort to distract myself with non-Prada alternatives. The Kate Spade pumps referenced in the above equation were too pointy. The Stuart Weitzman Platswoons in adobe had a significant gap at the heel. Time was ticking. I had a dress. I needed a shoe.

So now I’m the happy owner of a gorgeous pair of buff patent leather Prada pumps with the perfect heel height and a tasteful platform. They are not my every day shoes. I dread the day a heel gets caught in between the uneven cobblestones of an under-maintenanced DC sidewalk. They will never see the rain or be the guest at a reception held on a carpet of grass. They aren’t quite special occasion shoes, but most certainly are great date night shoes or “I’m having a big day” shoes.

Regardless of whether I wear my Prada splurge walking down the halls of Congress or behind closed doors, these shoes make me feel powerful. And that feeling is worth every penny.

Update: the military ball

Belle of the Ball? Style Dilemma? Who has time to shop for a ball, even a Special Forces Ball? Oh right. I need to make time. I promised my assistance to Lee. But this week has been nothing short of pressure-filled, and suddenly it’s Thursday without a dress contender in sight. Don’t you hate it when your day job and adult responsibilities keep you from your hobbies?

Lee says her top three dress options thus far are: a Tadashi Shoji One Shoulder Belted Gown that is sadly no longer available; this Jim Hjelm beauty; and the Amsale Back Cutout Gown in a merlot color that would be gorgeous with her hair color. It’s a good start, but my anxiety level might be a little high given that she hasn’t tried on a single gown. Let’s keep in mind my own guest of a wedding style dilemma dress was discovered after many many misses. (To be precise: two online ordered and returned dresses; one unsuccessful visit each to Saks Fifth Avenue, Nordstrom and Bloomingdales; and two visits and one purchased and returned dress from Neiman Marcus, all before I found the winner at Betsy Fisher.)

Lee is going to have better luck. Lee is going to have better luck. Lee is going to have better luck.

My favorites, sight unseen?

I adore this Dalia MacPhee gown and while I pinned it in silver, the designer informed me that it comes in other fabulous colors too. Last night, a mutual friend pinned this Notte by Marchesa slik-chiffon gown which has an appropriate level of sex appeal. (I hear there is e-flirting going on.) And the dress I’m yearning for is this 1951 Schiaparelli. I know, this exercise is about Lee’s impending ball, not my fantasy one.

But we all dream about being the belle of our own ball.

men’s wear wednesday: the ties that bind

It has been some time since I’ve had the occasion to buy a man a tie. However, I do like to walk around the tie section of a high-end department store. I love how ties are organized according to their place on the color wheel. I love feeling the different textures and fabrics. I love imagining the possible suit-plus-shirt combinations a tie has to offer.

(Maybe all this tie buying love stems from the fact that I love helping a man take off his tie.)

A recent trip to Nordstrom in search of a birthday gift led me to my own little tie epiphany. Ties only come in three pattern options: solid, stripes or paisley. And within those pattern options, ties are either bold, safe (some might say boring) or ugly.

A tie is the man’s way to distinguish his outfit. It’s his shoes, jewelry, scarf and purse all in one. (Melt my heart if he has a corresponding sock.) The right tie gives a man his opportunity to present himself as more sophisticate, less prep school boy. It’s the one element that can pull together the professional man’s outfit. It’s a chance to be unique. Much like I don’t like to walk into an elevator and run into a woman with the exact same outfit on, I assume a man doesn’t like looking around a conference table and realizing he has on a variation of the same tie every other man in the room is wearing.

I personally like a man who can pull off a bold tie, but I recognize it isn’t in everyone’s comfort zone. If you are in the market for a tie and need some direction, my simple rules are: no skinny ties unless you are a dedicated hipster; no ties that require sunglasses to comfortably look at; and, I’m just going to say it, don’t bother with Vineyard Vines ties. They all look alike.

Oh and one more rule. Please, if you get a grease spot on your tie that won’t come out, you must retire it, no matter how much you paid for it or how much you love it.

the military ball

This week’s edition of Must Have Monday is being postponed in order to bring you this special bulletin. Over the weekend, I received somewhat of an urgent email from a friend I’m going to call Lee. The message read something like this:

Help! I was just invited to attend a military ball out of town in mid June, and I want to wear a fabulous dress. I enjoyed reading about and seeing pictures from your own adventures during the guest of the wedding style dilemma, and I would like to put myself in your hands and be your project.

Devotedly Yours in Fashion,

Lee

As it turns out, DC Celine and I have been dying for a good fashion project since successfully finding me a dress for Kaitlan’s wedding.

There’s not a lot of time to act. The event is a Special Forces Ball, and the location is some place not subject to high heat and humidity this early in the summer the way we are here. Lee is a busy professional with an active social life so we’ll have to jump immediately on the project. Her open mind on the specifications of this dress should make her an easy candidate to dress. She wants a floor length gown. Unlike me, she doesn’t have a bunch of absurd rules about what she will or won’t wear. (In other words, she’s open to strapless and one-shouldered options.) And she looks fabulous in bold colors. No black dress is going to win this challenge if I have anything to say about it. Lee also works out regularly and will look good in just about any style of dress.

There will be a Pinterest board: belle of the ball dress challenge. (If you want pinning rights, comment here or send me an email and I’ll add you to the esteemed list.)

There will be a Twitter hashtag: #belleoftheball

There will be shopping (of course) and pictures of dresses Lee tries on.

And at the end of the project, there will be a beautiful dress on its way westward for an evening of dancing with men in uniform. While her relationship with her date is platonic, it doesn’t mean the dress won’t get potential date use some other time when she gets back home.

I’m thinking Inaugural Ball.

men’s wear wednesday: just say no to dad jeans

I have two hot girlfriends who recently went on dates with guys who showed up in what I refer to as dad jeans. You know exactly what they look like. They’re a lighter wash. They’re high-waisted. They’re unflattering. They might as well have a tapered leg. Oh wait, sometimes they do.

I want to let men in on a secret: we like to check out your asses as much as you check out ours. I’m not saying that you have to go invest hundreds of dollars in designer jeans if that isn’t in your comfort zone or budget. I get it. You see jeans as being something you wear to kick around in, do yard work, coach little league. But I’d just like to make a few suggestions.

Stay away from colored denim. Unless you have a comfortable hipster swagger, skinny jeans are probably not for you. When you are going out on a date, try wearing jeans of a darker hue like this very budget friendly pair from the Gap. When you buy them, don’t get them baggy already because denim stretches. It stretches a lot. A trip to the Denim Bar, even if you don’t end up buying anything there, can be very enlightening. But I can almost promise you that if you do go to the Denim Bar, you will walk out with something in your bag.

If you don’t believe me, check out how amazing my friend’s husband looks from behind in his designer jeans. Imagine throwing a blazer on over this look for casual Friday at the office (or everyday at the office if you work in that type of environment). Envision yourself going out to a bar or dinner with your date in these. You will most assuredly turn some heads, and not just of the woman on your arm.

rainy day obsession

I have only ever bought one umbrella in my entire adult life, and for some reason, I still have it. Considering it wasn’t free, it’s the worst umbrella ever. The button on the handle that you push to open the damn thing is super sensitive and also brings the umbrella down with just the tiniest amount of pressure. So when I’m running in the rain to or from my car balancing my computer bag on one shoulder and my purse on the other, inevitably I hit the button and my umbrella closes. Then I have to juggle what I’m carrying, and attempt to reopen the umbrella, (which isn’t easy either) while the rain pours down on me, making me angrier than a wet cat.

But I paid for that umbrella so I have to keep it.

In the past, umbrellas were just the type of thing that found their way into my hands. Many were “borrowed” and some were “found.” I believe in the karma of umbrellas. If you forget yours behind in a restaurant or on the train, the next time it’s raining, you will likewise find one for your use. I operated for years under this system until two years ago in a moment of desperation when I decided to buy an umbrella. Unfortunately for me, it just happens to be one which, as we have firmly established, I hate.

Now with the forecast in DC calling for rain levels that will hopefully dent our drought, I sigh with disgust as I look at the mean-spirited umbrella dangling by its cord around my closet doorknob. And I dream of a nice umbrella, one the is big enough to provide coverage for two people, if necessary. One that is memorable enough that I won’t leave it behind anywhere. One that will pair just as well with my high gloss black Hunter boots as it does with my cherry red trench coat (which sadly happens to be at the dry cleaner today).

Of course, I found the perfect umbrella, the appropriately named Unsurpassed Umbrella. But at a cost that is equivalent to a pair of shoes, I will only dream of wielding its awesomeness. Especially since I know that if I haven’t been able to lose the cheap umbrella with a severe functional flaw these last two years, I’m guaranteed to lose this one within a few times of using it.

And that would just piss me off more than being stuck in the rain with a closed umbrella on a good hair day.

must have monday: pretty underpinnings

This might be my third post on my love for nice underpinnings, but my devotion to matching bra and panty sets is not to be underestimated.

Every great lingerie set begins with the bra. The right bra can make you look enhanced. The right bra should fit comfortably. And of course, even the most functional bra can (and should) be pretty. Over the last year or so, I have carefully weeded my drawer of the bras that are uncomfortable, stretched out and have seams or other finicky details that always show through no matter what you have on. (These styles are not meant to be worn under clothes obviously, but how long do they really stay on in “other” circumstances? Not long enough to deserve space in a drawer.) Straps that slip? Don’t put up with that. Underwire poking out? Girlfriends, get rid of it. Does part of your breast hang out underneath the cup of the bra? Unacceptable. Life is too short to wear uncomfortable (or unflattering) bras.

I have slowly converted most of my bras to the style (Marie Jo plunge) I wrote about last September. The daisy detail on the strap adds a touch of femininity but the cup itself allows this bra to be worn under the tightest of t-shirts. I now own it in cosmic blue, black, ruby red, hot pink and cafe latte. And because I buy multiple panties to match each bra, I can get several wears a week out of the same color, if that is what my heart desires and wardrobe dictates. The versatility also allows for less frequent bra washings, which, let’s be honest, none of us like to do. (Note: I have been assured that washing my bras in a lingerie bag on delicate is fine, but you must air dry it.) I undertake this process less than I like to admit.

I know I have not left much to the imagination of those who might be curious as to what lies beneath, but my desire to convert the disbelievers is strong. Whether you have been married a gazillion years and think it doesn’t matter what your undergarments look like or are young and starting off in your career, get in the habit of at least matching your underpinnings even if they aren’t technically a set. Then begin by investing in a nice set that fits (please get a fitting) but don’t just save it for special occasions. Try wearing it on any old day. Turn the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Then, once you are a true believer, come talk to me about shoes.

mother’s day

I have been told by two little boys (who may be slightly biased) that I am the best mommy ever. I know full well I am not. There are millions of best mothers out there.

We all have our struggles. Whether (like me) you are juggling being the solo head of household with a demanding career and two children or you are the mother of four who’s holding down three jobs just to put food in her kids mouths, most mothers make the sacrifices necessary for their family. The mom who stays home full time with her children deserves a special order of sainthood in my eyes. Regardless of the external factors in our lives, we put aside our own hobbies, interests and needs in order to give our all to our kids.

Mothers suffer from fatigue. (Yes, you can watch TV while I take a nap.) We wrestle with the guilt we feel when our kids frustrate us. Sometimes when a raised voice is not enough to get their attention, I do what is described as the “crazy mommy dance” where I go all five-year-old with shrill cries and rapid foot-stamping. Then I fear these moments are what my boys will remember most about me. After a 12-day run of having the kids every night while their dad was on vacation, I admit it felt good to go out to dinner on Thursday instead of rushing home to pick up them up and get them to baseball practice or help with homework. But while it was nice to have a break, when I went to bed that night, out of habit I peeked into their rooms to check on them.

And this morning when I woke up to an empty house, I might have cried.

Growing up, there was never any question in my mind that I wanted to be a mother. Regardless, I still marvel that I have two such beautiful (albeit dirty, stinky, wise-cracking, stubborn, exhausting) little boys in my life. A brief pregnancy scare recently gave me days (five to be exact) to think about what it would be like to mother through all the stages of infancy and early childhood again. I was ready to embrace it, sleepless nights, career challenges and all. Colin has such middle child syndrome already that I always assumed I’d have a third.

In my heart, every day is Mother’s Day. When I arrived at the kids’ little league game yesterday and Colin left the bench to come give me a hug, that was better than any card. When Jack says, “I love you, Mommy” for no apparent reason, it’s better than getting roses, sleeping in or having breakfast in bed. The challenge is to remember these moments and store them someplace special so you can draw on them in the times of fatigue, frustration and loneliness.

Or, perhaps, to ward off the crazy mommy dance.

men’s wear wednesday: the custom suit (guest author)

Last week when I launched my new weekly menswear column, I did it with a sense of panic. Do I know enough about what men (and the women who dress them) want in their closets to be informative to my readers? With that spirit in mind, I turn my blog over this week to my dad, to let him detail a wardrobe encounter I haven’t and probably won’t ever have: ordering custom-made suits.

My Custom Suit Fitting

by Bruce Henderson

Hong Kong tailors have long been famous for their custom-made suits. And now it turns out you don’t have to travel halfway around the world to have one made.

A recent article in the New York Times about a Hong Kong tailor who barnstorms the U.S. thrice a year conducting fittings and taking orders for custom suits reminded me how much I have always wanted one. I went on Empire International Tailors website (empiretailors.com) and booked a fitting in late April in San Francisco.

I knew I would take my wife with me, as Laura is the classiest dresser I know and a connoisseur of fabrics. However, a few days before my fitting, I addressed a concern. “Honey, I want your help picking out fabrics, but I don’t want you there for my fitting. A man and his tailor, well, it’s kinda like a woman and her gynecologist.”

“I understand,” said my understanding wife. “I’ll bring my Kindle.”

When we arrived for the fitting, the living room of the penthouse at the Marriott Marquis had been transformed into a large fitting room with long tables displaying hundreds of small swatches of fabric.

The fabric selection came first. There were four priced tiers of fabric in various colors and patterns. We went from lowest-to-highest cost. The first two suits I ordered were easy. A black suit (highest tier) made of the finest Italian wool that I’ll keep in my closet “a lifetime,” said the tailor’s twenty-something son, Mark Asaf, dressed in his own smart suit. “Yes,” I agreed, “and maybe beyond.” Next came a Loro Piana navy (2nd highest tier). Both these jackets can be worn as blazers, so I picked out fabric for extra trousers (deep tan and darkish gray). For my third suit, we settled on a gray with subtle, narrow white pinstripes (2nd highest tier). All are to be two-button, ventless, with cuffed pants. Then I ordered nine custom shirts, including two tuxedo shirts (in white and black, lay-down collar, nonpleated); a couple with band collars and the rest classic straight collars, with a mix of French and button cuffs.

Now it was time for the head tailor and the face of Empire International since it opened in 1983, Anthony Asaf, and his assistant to have their way with me. For the next hour I stood as still as a Rodin as copious measurements were taken and retaken. Eventually, a crudely-sewn cotton suit form was placed around me, and it was pinned and tweaked to fit. As the tailors pawed me in a most ethical manner, I occasionally tried to fill in awkward lulls in the conversation. Given all this intimacy, it seemed we should at least be talking.

“Do you know the first U.S. president to wear a brown suit?” I asked.

The head tailor did not know.

“Ronald Reagan. Started a whole new trend in Washington, a town filled mostly with grays and blues.”

I actually had a second presidential-suit trivia question.

“Know the first president to wear a two-button suit?”

My tailor shook his head as he deftly brought his measuring strap down my zipper from my belt buckle, under my crotch, and up to my belt line in the back.

“JFK,” I announced brightly. “Before that, all three-button.”

A word about prices: Empire International does not sell the least-expensive suits or make them from the cheapest fabric. Prices for a custom-made suit from a Hong Kong tailor are similar to prices for an off-the-rack suit from a U.S. department store, ranging from $250 to $2,500. Only they will fit much better.

A DHL package from Hong Kong will soon hit my porch. Inside it will be one of my custom suits and one shirt. I am to try them on, and email final approval for the rest to be completed. If any adjustments are necessary, Empire International assures me it will taken care of.

My only nagging regret is that I didn’t order a brown suit for my next trip to Washington.

My father is the author of many bestselling books, including his latest, HERO FOUND: The Greatest POW Escape of the Vietnam War, for which he appeared on

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

the Rita by Lillybee

I bought a white purse. Okay, it isn’t exactly nursing shoes white, but more accurately, a soft cream color that my kids just happen to call white. It has lovely dove-colored handles, the length of the drop on which is perfect for me and my on-the-go needs.

In three weeks, I may be wondering why I went with such an unforgiving color. It’s only a matter of time before it catches the nip of my ink pen, rubs up against something sticky, or just starts to accumulate a city hue from being carried to and fro in an urban environment.

But I’m going to diligently protect it from such evils because I love it.

I love that it looks just as good with black as it does with my brightly colored dresses and skirts for spring and summer. I love that it works with jeans. I love that it isn’t matchy matchy with my spring and summer shoes, but it also doesn’t clash with them. And most of all, I love that it’s from the Lillybee inaugural Italian handbag line, designed by local shoe goddess Kassie Rempel. That means my purchase not only supports a dear friend, but a woman-owned, DC-based small business.

On the first day I broke it out, I was mainly confined to my desk, but the three times I stepped away from the office, I received compliments on Rita. She makes a fine addition to the Lillybee family, and with any luck, maybe I can talk Kassie into offering it in eggplant for the fall.