Manolo for the Big Girl

I’ve played Constitution Hall. Well, okay, technically it was 9th grade and I was in the school band playing Pomp and Circumstance over and over again (think Sartre)  for our high school graduation, but I was in Constitution Hall and I was playing an instrument and so I’m counting it.

I almost wasn’t allowed to go.

I almost wasn’t allowed to go because of this woman:

Singer Marian Anderson.

See, back in 1939 the Daughters of the American Revolution, who own Constitution Hall refused to let Anderson –who was one of the most popular classical vocalists in the world– perform at Constitution Hall because she wasn’t white.

Eleanor Roosevelt –right-minded old broad that she was– resigned from the DAR and helped organize Anderson’s famous Easter concert at the Lincoln Memorial, attended by over 75,000 folks.

(seriously, if this doesn’t give you goosebumps, you have lizards in your soul)

“I forgave the DAR many years ago. You lose a lot of time hating people.”

“Prejudice is like a hair across your cheek. You can’t see it, you can’t find it with your fingers, but you keep brushing at it because the feel of it is irritating.”

“The minute a person whose word means a great deal to others dare to take the open-hearted and courageous way, many others follow.”

“As long as you keep a person down, some part of you has to be down there to hold him down, so it means you cannot soar as you otherwise might.”

“I suppose I might insist on making issues of things. But that is not my nature, and I always bear in mind that my mission is to leave behind me the kind of impression that will make it easier for those who follow.”

For a goosebump par excellence experience check out this incredible speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and hear Ms Anderson sing “My Country ’tis of Thee”

Happy Independence Day gang.  Celebrate it if you’ve got it.

Francesca has dropped her former primary care physician like a hot potato, after said “doctor,” in response to Francesca’s suggestion that she (Francesca) might have sleep apnea, said “Sleep apnea isn’t important. If you are snoring, it would be annoying to anyone else who might be sleeping with you, but it’s not a risk to your health. Since you live alone, I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s not worth testing for.”

Setting aside the idea that a person who lives alone gets different health care from someone with a regular, uh, long-term sleeping partner, sleep apnea causes metabolic problems, which Francesca has. Francesca mentioned to some doctor friends about the sleep apnea, all of whom said without blinking “oh, yeah, sleep apnea is bad. It causes depression, metabolic disorders, and besides, you are tired all the time.” Hello?!?

Anyhow, this means that Francesca has to “break in” a new doctor. Francesca brought the new doctor a letter outlining her health history and issues and what she is doing to manage them, and explaining the “health at every size” outlook.  He spent the first few minutes reading the letter, and then asked me questions, such as the following:

Doctor: You’ve been exercising 30 minutes a day and haven’t lost weight?

Francesca: That is correct.

Doctor: For weight loss, I’m going to recommend 40 minutes.

Francesca: I’m sorry to interrupt, but want to make it clear that I’m not interested in weight loss. I’m interested in staying healthy.

Doctor: But to be healthy, you have to lose weight.

Francesca (with forced patience): Well, I’ve been trying that for 30 years, since I was 6 years old, and it hasn’t worked. I’d rather focus on healthy behaviors than on my weight.

Doctor: I’m very confused because over here (pointing to letter) you say that you’d like a referral to a new nutritionist, but you don’t want to lose weight?

Francesca: I want some support in adding more fruits and vegetables to my diet [Francesca’s note: even though it contradicts the HAES “intuitive eating” model], because I’m not good at that and I want to make sure my body gets the nutrients it needs. But I don’t want it to be that if I eat healthy and exercise but don’t lose weight, that I’ve failed. I want it to be that if I eat nutritious food and exercise regularly, I’ve succeeded, whether I lose weight or not.

This absolutely “clicked” it for the doctor, and he said he might even use that line with other patients. I was so proud! My first thought was “I hope Kate Harding sees the post about this!”

It takes a little time and effort to treat one’s doctor!

When I was 10, I thought if I got one more stupid porcelain doll I would literally go mad.  Being insane is a highly-respected career choice for a well-bred Southern woman,  and I was one be-ringleted Jane Austen commemorative dolly away from becoming the fifth-grade inspiration for a posthumous Tennessee Williams play.

The problem was, I’d discovered, that after years of being notoriously difficult to shop for I’d accidentally mentioned that I liked a doll. A doll, as in one particular doll.

Well, I got that doll.

All would have been well had the clarion call of “Plumcake Likes Dolls” not gone out to my four wonderful but completely clueless-in-the-ways-of-young-girls uncle. But it did.

I think you see where this is going.

I was inundated by porcelain dolls, I had dolls for Christmas and my birthday and for times when I’d helped them pick up cute girls, which SOUNDS like a nice problem to have EXCEPT:

Dolls have eyes.

They don’t blink.

I’m not afraid of dolls like my friend Cassie is –well, she’s really afraid of doll PARTS, not dolls in general– but when you wake up and the moonlight is streaming in your bedroom, illuminating dozens upon dozens of cold, unblinking eyes staring out of faces without emotions or flaws…well, actually that’s a lot like an initiation rite of The Junior League, but honestly, that just adds to the creepiness.

See? Creepy.

The same thing happened to my grandmother, apparently, and her affection for owls.  I imagine she at one point liked them; the little carved alabaster objet I’ve got on my desk is an owl she picked up while she was on Capri, and their racing yacht was The Night Owl (always a good gift). I do not, however, suspect she particularly yearned for a paint-it-yourself owl-shaped ceramic umbrella stand which my brother and I affectionately called “The Hoo” all through our childhoods.

The Hoo lives with me now –you twitterati will recall I woke up spooning him on Saturday morning for reasons known only to God and the makers of my freakishly potent melatonin capsules– and I love it as a cherished token from my childhood. I haven’t received a doll in nearly twenty years and even my grandmother was eventually able to end to the slew of Strigiformes (that’s Latin, yo. You think I don’t know stuff, but I know stuff. You’re not the boss of me.) but we can’t be the only ones.

Today Miss Plumcake wants to know:

It was dolls with me and owls with my grandmother. What was the theme-gift YOU couldn’t escape?

If you were fortunate enough NOT to be riddled with 300 My Little Ponies or nylon loop potholder kits, tell me another funny story about presents.

finally, if you just CANNOT LIVE another moment without your very own ceramic owl umbrella stand –which looks a good deal like mine, although mine is painted in harvest gold, white and avocado– you can get one here:

meaningful spooning sessions and childhood conversations not included

EDIT:

It is indeed the self same Hoo! This one is dated 1972, which happens to be the same year as my Caddy. Astute readers will notice the Neiman’s bag peeping out of its head and the fabulous cobalt blue pony hair pump behind it. Also for what it’s worth this is about the closest I’ve ever come to actually USING the baby grand piano I bought on a whim.

Francesca knows that she promised a sculpture series, but that involves sifting through her notes and emails and bookmarks, and frankly it is too hot outside.  When the temperature dips below that of the surface of the sun, she will consider it.

Meanwhile, she must point you to the fat-tastic Adipositivity Project of the talented photographer Substantia Jones. The name comes from “adipose tissue,” ie fat, and positivity, ie celebrate! Some of the very few safe-for-work examples:

Francesca notes that as a matter of policy, Jones has left out the models’ faces in order to “coax observers into imagining they’re looking at the fat women in their own lives, ideally then accepting them as having aesthetic appeal which, for better or worse, often translates into more complete forms of acceptance.”

Francesca rather wishes she had included the faces as a way of forcing viewers to confront the woman in her entirety, with each subject’s face and personality and unique visage represented along with her body. We get enough “headless fatties” in media reports about obesity. Fat women, say “this is me!”

What say you? Is leaving out the faces a good artistic decision? A good political one?  Does intent matter in cases like this?

The American Independence Day, it approaches, and Francesca knows how much the patriotic Americans love to dress on this day in outfits which evoke their flag! Hooray for the Red, White and Blue, Francesca says. But there is a Right way, and a Wrong way. Rule of thumb: if you are an adult and you would ONLY wear the outfit on the Fourth of July, it is probably a Wrong (little children are exceptions, and it is OK to wear ONE kitschy novelty item IF a Very Cheerful Relative offers you one). If you would wear it on August 10th, it is fine. For example:

Do:

Don’t:

Do (for a very informal family gathering):

Don’t:

Do:

Don’t:

Do:

Don’t:

I was going to postpone the Monday Hotness because I was “uninspired” by which mean I’ve got a hair appointment with Frédéric Fekkai’s former personal assistant/senior stylist who flies into town once every six weeks and I’m totally nervous and stress-eating those insidiously delicious pygmy carrots because I feel like I’m cheating on my long-suffering stylist with some hot new model, which –okay– I am, but I’ll be thinking about her the whole time.

**DEEP BREATH**

Whew.

Someone about whom I’ve also been thinking a lot is everyone’s favorite Funky Little Fashion Troll, John Galliano. John Galliano is a genius. There are a lot of talented designers out there but only a handful –I’d say McQueen, Gaultier and Lacroix, maaaybe Miuccia– are just out and out geniuses, and Galliano is one of them…maybe the best working today.

AND he loves women –all women– which is why he’s such a perfect fit for Dior. He understands our bodies and celebrates them. He has famously used plus-size women in his runway shows and even someone used to stunt casting can’t help but believe when Galliano says “Every body is beautiful” he means it.

“I don’t love dolls. I love women. I love their bodies.”

“I’m an accomplice to helping women get what they want.”

“The problem is with men. I know I shouldn’t say this, but they’ve shrouded and hidden women to hide their incompetence.”

“Women are women, and hurray for that.”

“Dressing up. People just don’t do it anymore. We have to change that.”

“I don’t care about money. I really don’t care. I just want to do what I do.”

It’s okay to go up a size.

Seriously.

And while normally I would call that The Rule of Beyoncé, our sadly bereaved friend Janet Jackson is the offender, seen here last year at the opening of one of Alexander “Despite never being attracted to women I secretly am in love with Plumcake and will marry her and spend all my days mixing her toddies and designing exquisite couture for her because she is my everything” McQueen’s boutiques.

I mean granted most of us aren’t Laura Blokhina who wore the look during McQueen’s summer 2008 RTW show which was brilliant from beginning to end. Blokhina was described on one internet resource as 5′11″ and 180 pounds. HAHAHAHAHA. No. When I began modeling I was 5′10″ and180 pounds which put me at about a size 16. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again –although this time I not lying and stifling a giggle– an inch does not make THAT much difference.

Anyhoodle.

Miss Jackson is a thick girl with a kickin’ bod. I can’t say I agree with all her plastic-surgery choices but whatevs. Here Miss J is wearing a kimono. A KIMONO. They’re SUPPOSED to be loose and flowing.  Granted she’s had a bit of an alteration done to close up the neckline because we all know of her well-established nippular modesty and she wisely eschewed the amazing butterfly belt for something more suited to her 5′4″ rack-heavy frame, but this kimono? THIS KIMONO IS TOO TIGHT.

God. Why do I even have to SAY that?! ANSWER ME JANET! WHY?!

I mean the dress was a mistake from the get go, she’s too short for that gesture (and besides, it went out with Mrs Fiske) she would have looked yonks better in this from the same collection:

Because it would have at least given her a little leg.

BUT even if she’d insisted on going with the longer look –and I’m telling you right now I would wear the HELL out of that thing, enormous belt and all, because while you adorable miniature people with the enormous boobs get all the boys, we tall girls with the travel-sized usuals get the best clothes which I think is totally fair– she would have done well to go up a size.

It would have draped better, freed her from what’s known in the South as the dreaded dunlapt disease (as in “my stomach dunlapt over my belt”) and who would’ve known about those extra two inches of fabric?

No one.

Except her stylist

and that’s why God invented “amnesia resultant from blunt force trauma with an American Music Award”.

Kiyonna’s new arrivals are in purples, reds and blacks, with the theme “summer nights.” Francesca loves the surprisingly versatile print on the “Miami” dress (pictured) and beautiful top. She can imagine this print for work, for a summer evening date, for Sunday brunch, for a wedding guest…

Liz Claiborne has a new plus-size summer collection, in which tangerine orange and “marine” blue figure prominently. Francesca loves these fresh, crisp colors. Tennis, anyone? Also, Francesca loves the button detailing on this denim skirt. Sale items are here.

Monif C has redesigned her website, and thank goodness because the old one was quite cluttered. This one looks much neater and is easier to navigate. Francesca says: none too soon! (Dear Monif, For your next project, can you please get the models better bras? Especially the one wearing the butterfly dress? Seriously. xoxo, Francesca)

Just My Size is having a Buy One, Get One 1/2 Off sale on all the items here. Also, today, get free shipping on orders over $60.

Lane Bryant is having their semi-annual sale on Cacique intimates. Panties (Francesca’s favorite brand) are 5 for $25, and bras are buy 2, get 2 free! Is not the corset pictured just gorgeous?

Silhouettes is having a summer sale AND has further reduced prices on clearance items.

Sealed With A Kiss offers free shipping worldwide and has some of the best new arrivals I’ve seen on their site for a while (see the last 2/3 of the page). Definitely moving in the right direction. Check out  the new shirt dress and quite-nice tank.

Torrid has taken an additional 50% off clearance. Tops for under $15, Jeans for under $20. Also, new items have been added to their summer sale.

Happy shopping! xoxo

No, I’m not praising the career of Vanilla Ice. I’m thinking of a cold dessert to help beat the heat. The weather around here has finally figured out it’s summer, and, well, anything that helps me keep my cool is a good thing.

And so it is that I turn, once again, to that paragon of culinary tomes the Household Searchlight Recipe Book to see how the average homemaker of the late 1930’s did the trick. Lo and behold, there’s an entire page of delicious sounding recipes for various ices.

Today I’m going to share the (ridiculously simple) recipe for Pineapple Ice:

1 Cup crushed pineapple

1 Cup water

2 Tblsp lemon juice

1/3 Cup  sugar

Combine water and sugar. Heat to boiling. Boil for five minutes. Cool. Add pineapple and lemon juice. Freeze. Makes four servings.

Bon Appetite!

Over the years we all wind up going to weddings. Over the years, we can also wind up going to a lot of funerals. Don’t worry. I’m not going all somber and miserable on you, nor am I preparing to attend a particular funeral. The fact remains that death is a fact of life, and we should all be equally prepared to attend a funeral as a wedding.

I do have to confess an inadvertent faux pas I committed in years past. It was a period in my life when I was stony broke beyond expression, so I had very few presentable clothes in my wardrobe. And since I tend toward bright colors and dramatic details, I was mortified to find that when a friends’ father died I had nothing to wear to the funeral but a raisin-colored skirt and blouse. The color was no problem. It was somber enough and shades of purple have just as long a history in mourning as black does. No, it was the fact that both the skirt and the blouse were decorated festively with shisha mirrors.

To this day I burn with shame at the thought of those festive mirrors.

Moral of the story: always make sure there’s something in your closet you can wear to a funeral without embarrassing yourself or scandalizing others. A simple black dress, a navy suit, or something in charcoal grey and a conservative cut…any of these is fine. Just make sure they don’t have shisha mirrors as decorative details. An ounce of prevention, my superfantastic friends.

And since the time may come in any person’s life when they are called upon to host a funeral (not that I desire it for any of you, but again taking precautions is always the intelligent route), it never hurts to have a guide to how to do it well. I found just such a book recently, and I’m going to recommend it to all of you right now.

It’s called Being Dead is No Excuse: the Official Southern Ladies’ Guide to Hosting the Perfect Funeral. After all, as much as I love my California home and as much of an unrepentant - nay, brazen - Yankee as I am, I have to admit that folks south of the Mason-Dixon line know how to throw an Event. And friends, a good funeral done well can be an Event.

Being Dead is No Excuse is filled with breezy - yet practical - advice on how to handle such matters as dressing for the funeral, writing condolence notes, choosing the proper hymn, and improving the inevitable deli platter presented in such a way as to leave any reader with a sense of humor doubled over and gasping for breath. It also has plenty of cautionary tales on How Not To Do Things (hint: never have someone sing the title song from Funny Girl during the service, no matter how big a Barbra Streisand fan the deceased may have been…and always remember if you’re driving the cremated remains to their final destination to keep the urn firmly closed and the windows up).

And then there’s the food. Seriously, do not wait for someone to die to try some of these recipes. From stuffed eggs (deviled to the rest of us) to Gruyere Grits to an entire chapter entitled Comfort Foods: There Is a Balm in Campbell’s Soup, you’ll find plenty of things you’ll want to eat. What’s more, the next time there’s a death, you’ll understand the importance of a good tomato aspic.

Death is a serious matter, but funerals are brimful of human foibles. Sometimes you just have to have a good laugh while learning the finer points of how to get along in the world.