I grew up in Pompano/Ft. Lauderdale/Boca Raton. Used to have a condo within a stones throw of Pier 66. Heck, I used to live in a duplex on the same street that the infamous Coral Ridge Presbytarian Church is!
We called it "Boca Mode." I am, in fact, in the process of getting rid of some of my vintage Boca Mode stuff on Ebay - lots of metallic leather, lots of glitz and glam and in MY day, big shoulders...Platinum by Dorothy Schoelen, Criscione jackets... And more pairs of f-me pumps that I can even fathom owning! Yes, the ladies in the South do love to dress, and anything worth doing is worth over-doing.
Funny how things work out. Today I did home improvement crap for half a day, then over to the barn to muck, ride, and then bathe my horse (which is really more of a dirt transfer procedure). I look like a total rat now, though a smug rat for having accomplished so much.
Of course, I did it all with a french manicure. You can take the girl out of Boca, but...
Oh, there's a memory. Back when I was young and working, two of the most beautiful business suits I ever owned were Dorothy Schoelens. One was a celestial blue silk jacket with a knee-length flippy skirt in a coordinating blue/green/gold print. It was tight and low-cut and just yeow.
The other was a dandelion yellow and soft green tapestry number with a below-hip jacket that tied with tasseled ropes. Matching asymmetrical skirt-- the cut on both pieces was simple and gorgeous. And a sage green shell with a subtle pattern underneath. I once actually saw Annie Potts wear the same suit (only with pants) on Designing Women.
Geez, I'd forgotten that I could ever wear clothes that fabulous. I bought both suits on sale, and even that they were a huge stretch -- but obviously, looking back, they were worth it. Thanks for the memory.
And I also have memories of cleaning out the barn and doing horse stuff with a fresh manicure. This is why God created acrylics -- they'll stand up to anything, including a 1300-pound dripping wet Arab mare.
My father's 2nd (trophy) wife had a PhD in hooshing (though this is the first time I have heard the term and I LOVE IT and shall be stealing it) and is respondible for the 6 or 8 Dorothy Schoelen suits I have (6 to 8 yers of Christmas gifts there). I get a giggle out of them - I moved to Maine some years ago and there is NO place I could wear these in Maine. No place. None. Not even close. Your friend's Ralph Lauren sheath would be a tad "hoochie-mama" for Maine. We, um, go to Boston (refer to your original post) to dress up. Sigh.
She DID buy me a black suede Paloma Picasso evening bag that I STILL carry, though.
"West Coast casual meets pointed Scots Calvinist disdain for all attempts at hooshing of any kind."
Ha, yeah, that's me although I'm mid-continent. I'm a big believer in the Kenora dinner jacket.
Have you looked at Bill Cunningham's photos of the Easter parade on Fifth Avenue in NYC? Also pictures from garden benefits like (I think) the Central Park Conservancy? They run in the NY Times, usually on Sundays after the event.
Turns out that white society ladies in NY also like the church suit for certain occasions - the hats, the bright colors, the coordinating. This style has never been mine but I love the look.
Re swim gear: Here in Northern California we HAVE to pack sweatshirts with our bathing suits. I was at my mother's today, in Alameda (warmer than the coast), in a so-called heated outdoor pool (if you don't heat a pool in Northern Cal it will be too cold for swimming in July). I kept my sarong on poolside (Venice Boardwalk purchase, $20) as well as the sweatshirt because it was just too cool to peel. You have to be seriously stoic to sunbathe or swim in the Bay Area on the Fourth of July.
"Anything worth doing is worth overdoing."
That, right there, is the philosophy at the very heart and soul of hooshing it up.
I never got white handbags at all until last week. Just never saw the point of them. Until I was riding the Ft. Lauderdale water taxi one night and saw this young, tanned woman in a tight black tee, black skinny jeans, and simple gold flat sandals get on board. Against the dark skin and dark clothes, she carried a creamy white LV Suhaili tote.
Not hooshy at all. Just simple, clean perfection -- fashion at its very best, and all the more striking for its dramatic simplicity in a town given to gilded excess. And she was the only person I saw all week I actually wanted to steal a look from.
I'm a guy, and I'm getting all hooshy just reading this stuff . . .
I don't understand a BIT of it, but, for some reason, my pulse rate is up, and I'm perspiring a bit.
Is that cuz of teh hooshy?
Whew . . .
Ah, but those HATS! I may be the only one, but I love those hats. One thing that happens when you catalog-shop and some of the catalogs you get are plus-size catalogs is that you end up receiving a number of catalogs geared towards black women. And these are full of these omgepotchket ensembles that put the orange number you pictured here to shame, but damn if the hats aren't to die for.
I used to collect Edwardian hats and cloches from the 1920's. The cloches were always kind of helmety and minimalist, but the Edwardian hats are truly something to behold. In my attempt to declutter, I've divested many of my hats, but I have one Edwardian number with a brim the size of a large pizza box and enough fake fruit and flowers resting on said brim to equip a medium-sized wedding. It is truly a marvel.
When I drive by the local Catholic church on Sundays and see people coming out in jeans and cutoffs and T-shirts, I compare it to the spectacle of the local AME church, when those women come out in their rainbow-colored dresses and suits, wearing and truly appreciating the fabulousness of hats.
If you want to see hooshing on a massive scale, be at Flemington Race Course in Melbourne, Australia on the first Tuesday of November for that Melbourne Cup day where race viewers wear the most outlandish hats possible. Though not an official holiday, business just stops on the afternoon of race day. Here is a link to what was worn in 2003.
http://www.millinery.info/Melbou...02003/
index.htm
Larue, honey, you need to talk to your doc about dialing down your Viagra Rx.
You don't need nearly as much of it as you seem to be taking. It's not a morning vitamin, K?
Okay the thought of UUs hooshing EVER is too hilarious to contemplate, especially having grown up in Humboldt County, Calif where hooshing of any sort would get you stared at and thought a wierdo.
My recollection of Humboldt is that the major forms of hooshing are tie-dye and Stevie Nicks-style renaissance velvets (but only for Very Important Occasions, like a wedding or the all-out party after a good pot harvest).
Other forms of NorCal counterculture hooshing:
Dreads on white girls
Patchwork clothes made out of old Indian saris
Particularly over-the-top biker leathers. Must have fringe. Bonus points for studs and conchos.
Moroccan cotton from Tienda Ho -- but only if everything coordinates from head to toe.
Hippies hoosh (and I know this because I have a whole box in the basement full of glorious hippie stuff I will never part with). They just do it a little differently.
I will never be rated a fashion-conscious person - never, never, never.
But, once, I did commit an act of effective anti-hooshery.
My ex was never one to doll herself up - she usually didn't need to. But she was at a point, once, where she needed at least one decent dress for use during the late fall and early winter season of the Pacific Northwest.
Betsy Johnson at that time had a few designs for sale in the Victoria Secret catalog. (Yes, that long ago. No, she ordered the catalog, not me. (Yes, she came to regret it - hated almost everything in it.)) There was one dress she did that fit my ex's personality and sense of style to a tee.
Long dress, long sleeves, one piece, black. It exposed virtually nothing.
It highlighted virtually everything.
She still has the dress.
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