I live in a part of the country that prides itself on being “natural.” The result is that Northwestern women are not recognized internationally for their fashion, especially not for their hairstyles. In Paris I was stunned by the wonderful haircuts. All women, rich or middle-class, with long hair or short, curly hair or straight, were perfectly coiffed.
Most of them were also beautifully clothed. Their outfits stand as the antithesis of current American “fashion,” clothes that appear to be pre-shrunk and then studded with rhinestones. Parisian women wear clothes with elegant lines. Their dresses and blouses do not cling to unfortunate figures.
And the Japanese tourists were especially stylish. They wear clothes that are comfortable and eye-catching at the same time.
Undecided: Are Japanese or French women more chic?
Decided: Women from every country shift their hips when their photo is taken. They place one foot forward, and slim themselves by a turn of the pelvis. They do not present a full frontal face to the camera. And many cock their heads when they smile.
|Venetian Laundry Over an Alley|
The Saga of the New Blouse
In Spain I found I needed a longer sleeved shirt, so I took my six words of Spanish and went shopping. In a shopping store that had EVERYTHING (clothing, electronics, a travel agency, a clinic for surgical procedures, and more), I found the blouse I wanted. When the blouse did not fit, the sales clerk ran to another department to find one that did. It was a no-iron, tailored blouse and I loved it. It wasn’t until I was purchasing it that I realized it was made by Jones of New York!
|Venetian Laundry on a Building|
And then one afternoon we walked down the streets in Barcelona. Something hit the sleeve of my lovely new blouse, a leaf from the overhanging tree I thought, and I brushed it off. As soon as I felt the yellow slime on my fingers, I knew it was bird droppings, right on the sleeve of my new shirt! Two men rushed up to help us, which surprised us, until we realized that a sweater I had tied around my waist was completely covered as were the backs of the legs on Gary’s slacks. I cannot imagine what kind or how many birds did this damage.
State of Undress
Rhodes attracts an odd collection of people: young women who run around in bikinis and young men in briefs, middle-aged women looking a little the worse for wear and middle-aged men, with bellies hanging over their shorts, who have forgotten how to shave or comb their hair. Too many have skin that looks like a pig’s after roasting on a spit. I wonder if it crackles when touched?
|Tattered Greek Flat in Rhodes|
The Tourist Tan
The most unpleasant part of traveling is trying to find laundry service that is reasonable in price and accessible to our lodging. We spent two hours one day trying to locate a laundromat. Everyone sent us in the general direction. They were sure it was there, but we came to think none of them had ever been there. That laundromat turned out to be very nice, but the machines automatically dispensed fabric softener into the clothes, a cloying, nose-tickling perfume that eventually contaminated everything in our suitcases—and continues to haunt a few pieces that will not yield the smell.
|Venetian Laundry Over a Canal|
We did learn one laundry secret. If clothes have not dried, the hair dryer that almost all lodging now provides will finish things off, especially the more delicate items. And then there is the mini-bar. Many of them are hidden and they generate a lot of heat. We had one in a closet with shelves. The shelf above the little refrigerator dried lightweight clothes in an hour and heavier things in a bit longer stretch of time.