Blogversation 2012: How have you dealt with a fashion emergency?

Throughout this year, several bloggers will engage in a conversation here and on their blogs — asking questions of each other and responding. Others are absolutely welcome to join the conversation, as well. Learn more about the ladies of Blogversation 2012.

Today’s question comes from the fashionable, creative Lesley Ware, www.thecreativecookie.net.
On Twitter, Lesley is @creativecookie.

The other day I left my apartment wearing a new maxi dress made from a black and white gauzy cotton blend.

After hopping on the subway, I looked down and noticed that I could see straight through my dress, undies and all!  I was so embarrassed and understood why people were staring at me a little longer on my trek to the train. I needed another layer, underneath, ASAP. Thankfully, I was headed to my sewing studio where I could quickly solve the problem.

Have you ever had a fashion emergency or a wardrobe malfunction? A stain on your white blazer, a split in your trousers before the big meeting, a broken shoe on vacation? How did you resolve it? Did your experience spark a new way of dealing with fashion?

 



Categories: creativity, lifestyle

Tags: , , , , , ,

11 replies

  1. A looooong time ago I had to go to a function my parents were presenting at. I woke up in the wee hours of the morning to get dressed so I couldn’t really see everything I was putting on. I was wearing a tomato red kilt with black plaid. When I got to the function, I realized I had also put on hot pink tights which completely clashed with the kilt. Really looked hideous. I found a drugstore nearby the event venue that was open early and bought a pair of nylons.

  2. I think I’ve blocked out the worst fashion emergencies. I wrote The Action Heroine’s Handbook, and one of the entries dealt with various fashion emergencies like stains and rips and how you can deal with them on the fly. For stains, I try to cover them up or downplay. Whenever I try to rub or clean a stain while out and about, I always wind up making the matter worse. I guess the worst fashion emergency I had was at my cousin’s wedding. She had an amazing event in Manhattan and I went solo. So I got gussied up, wearing a vintage-inspired navy sheath that Joan Holloway would have been envious off. I searched high and low for accessories, finding Sigerson Morrison red pumps to finish the outfit. After the wedding and reception, a small group of us moved to the Waldorf-Astoria for a nightcap. I suddenly felt very Truman Capote black-and-white party, if you know what i mean. Well, wouldn’t you know it? I snapped a heel on the steps of the Waldorf. It didn’t break off entirely; it just flopped under my foot, held together by the leather that covered it. So I limped to the bar and promptly removed my shoes and inhibitions. I kissed one man that night and ended up going out with another guest shortly thereafter. There’s nothing like confidence to compensate for a stiletto.

  3. I was in the midst of a raucous evening in a bar during the annual convention of the professional association for which I worked at the time. It was one of those magical evenings that stay in the mind long after they’re done, a party resplendent with great energy and perfect karma.

    I took a break from dancing to chat with an association acquaintance, a lovely gentleman who had always treated me professionally and with great respect. As I sat down, I noticed he was staring at my chest. This man had never done anything like that before. Never.

    I felt confused and uncomfortable. I hoped he’d break his gaze away from my chest and look at my face, but no doing.

    Finally, I glanced down.

    There, rising out from my sweater was the underwire from my bra, emerging from my clothing like a radio antenna in search of better reception, or a periscope desperate for a better view. Frankly, I was surprised it hadn’t stabbed me in the chin and drawn blood. That wire must have worked its way loose and tried to make a run for it while I was dancing.

    The man saw me look down and notice the obvious wire protruding from my sweater. There wasn’t much more to do but laugh. Or was there?

    Fueled by alcohol and the weirdness of the sight, I seized the wire and pulled it the rest of the way out. I marveled at its size and curve, both testament to its power. I had never seen an underwire from a bra before; it resembled an ancient, thin, sharp, hand-held weapon fully capable of decapitating a man in a single slice.

    “No sense anyone getting hurt,” I joked.

  4. So how did you solve the problem, Lesley?

    Our first year in Brooklyn, I landed a temporary gig as a copy editor. The morning of my first day, I put on a skirt and some long-unworn tights, and set out for the subway station. About three blocks out, it was obvious that any elasticity in the waistband of the tights had given up the ghost years before. With each step I took, the tights lurched further down. I didn’t know what to do. The street I was on was residential; no public bathrooms to pop into. And I didn’t want to run home to change and risk being late on my first day. I finally just said fuck it, stepped over behind the non-existent privacy of a tree, slipped off my shoes, let my tights basically drop off by themselves, and crammed them in my bag and kept going. Luckily I could swing the skirt and shoes I was wearing sans tights, which is clearly what I should have done in the first place.

    • Well, it was the longest 10 minute walk of my life:). I ducked into a cozy brooklyn boutique as I exited the train in search of anything that they could give me. After explaining my situation, the sales girl offered to sell me a $55 t-shirt, to which I declined. I considered hitting up Target for a cheap fix but decided to just walk (really fast) to the studio. When I got there I placed a thin skirt under the dress as a slip.

      Whew — emergency resolved.

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