Getting Dressed

Am reading a book titled Dress for Success by Edith Head.  I have read many magazine articles on the subject, and seen the television programs, but this is the first time I have seen something that truly takes into account women as individuals.  Head gives us a glimpse into her workshop, filled with dozens of dress forms, each one the unique shape of a different actress.  Elizabeth Taylor is not the same as Audrey Hepburn is not the same as Bette Davis is not the same as Sophia Loren in height, weight, coloring, or curves so why would what fits and suits Miss T. be the same as what fits and suits Miss L.?  One of my favorite bits so far is in the section on choosing color:  if a color makes you feel bad, even if it suits your "color aura," don't wear it.  Miss Head relates an instance when a certain actress would rather have given up a mink coat than wear the brown dress that would have complemented it.  Another actress couldn't abide lavender, even though it suited her, so Head would never put her in it.  If you don't like a color, you won't look your best in it, no matter what other people say.  (For which I say, "Hah!" to everyone trying to put me in pink and pastels all these years.)  Anyway, I am enjoying this immensely.  It is obviously a book written by an accomplished professional trying to impart the arcana of her profession to a lay reader.

The reason I picked up a book on dressing by the greatest Hollywood costumer ever?  Time for new clothes, one; two, my image needs polishing: no matter what the employment future holds, I am no longer "just a bookseller."  Oh, and the company vice president is flying in especially to visit our store on Saturday.

"At the midpoint of my life, I found myself lost in a dark wood."

What does one do when one finds oneself at odds with one's employer?  Not a simple personality conflict, but on a philosophical level?  There was a reason I chose bookselling over clothing or fast food sales.  There was a reason I stayed with this company for the better part of a decade, and it had little to do with the pay:

"...Because the product we sell is books, our aspirations must be consistent with the promise and the ideals of the volumes which line our shelves.  To say that our mission exists independent of the product we sell is to demean the importance and the distinction of being booksellers. ... Above all, we expect to be a credit to the communities we serve, a valuable resource to our customers, and a place where our dedicated booksellers can grow and prosper. Toward this end we will not only listen to our customers and booksellers but embrace the idea that the Company is at their service."

Somewhere in the past three years statement and practice have begun to part ways.  It is distressing -- to put it mildly -- to go to work anymore.

Taking BART to work gives one a lot of time to think -- about the landscape one passes, fellow passengers, self.  Early in the morning, before dawn, the landscape is mostly streetlights, prompting thoughts of warm beds and sleep-tousled heads, of order, and of what lurks in the dark.  Frequently one just gazes out into the dark, with only the arrival at a station waking one from the fugue state into which it is so easy to fall.

Half an hour on, headlights on the roads below tell of a waking world and others on their way to work.  The BART car begins to fill: students, office workers, construction workers, those whose occupation is impossible to guess from their clothes, all types, all going somewhere.  Those who enter with friends carry on conversations started long before.  Those entering alone -- most -- are quiet, self-contained, with even their expressions giving away nothing.  BART cars are quiet places; even those conversations are not loud, each trying not to trespass on another's space, even aurally.  We are together in our solitude.

Every Person as Part of a Ripple Effect

Was able to attend an author dinner last week, courtesy of the publisher, Little, Brown.  The dinner was very good (One Market, Bradley Ogden), but meeting the author, Holly Goldberg Sloan, was the obvious highlight of the evening.  She is a charming woman, about my age, and this is her first novel.

The book is titled I'll Be There and was a delight to read.  For a young adult non-fantasy/action novel, it is unique -- there is no melodrama.  What a relief to read something not emotionally fraught!  This is not to say that there is not a strong emotional element -- there is -- it is simply subtle.  Ms Goldberg Sloan's life before this was as a successful screenwriter and director, and this mastery of storytelling craft is apparent.  In the first lines, she sets up the entire story; everything that follows is the fulfillment of that promise.

The characters are well-drawn; the use of first-person POV for each character is used to great, and, in one instance, humorous, effect, saving each from being caricatures or cut-outs.  Except for the one, there is no one in this novel who can be viewed as "bad."  Clueless, definitely; well-meaning but oblivious, certainly; but evil? No.  Even parents and other authority figures here, frequently portrayed in YA fiction as obstacles at best (when present at all) or active antagonists at worst, act in the best interests of those for whom they are responsible.  Even the villain, while frightening, is someone who can be viewed with pity. 

There are several scenes of humor, placed perfectly to keep the mood of the story from devolving into despair.  The lead-up to Prom made me laugh out loud; a run-in with a black bear managed to be funny and terrifying at the same time.

The ending fulfills the promise of the beginning, bringing the reader full circle in a satisfactory manner.  This is a hopeful book, with smart characters, something I will be eager to recommend.