Moby Shirt: A Quest for the Great White Symbol

I pass a shop called Anne Fontaine with some regularity. Anne Fontaine is a French-based chain that specializes in white cotton shirts. Or did, until (I guess) everybody who wanted one, had one. Then they added silk and satin to their white wonderland, until (again) everybody who wanted one, had one, whereupon they added black to their marketing program. Now they are showing wild things in black and white, with accessories, and the Platonic Ideal of A Shirt no longer edifies window-shoppers.

I love the thought of having one thing that is always flattering, perfect and appropriate. I also love the idea of having lots of different colors and patterns, dreamy real paisleys, sweaters, silk knit tees... what if each thing were perfect? I wouldn't dare gain an ounce. Confession: I once read that if Jackie Kennedy (as she was then) found something she loved, she'd buy it in multiples so she'd have it in case something awful happened to the first one. It's also believed that when she found a tee that fit perfectly, was the right weight, fabric, sleeve length etc., she bought it in every color it came in. I still think this kind of shopping is pure genius. It's the fashionable version of keeping a few extra cans of tuna around. Obviously I have neither the storage space nor the budget to engage in this form of economy of scale. But still.... If I found my Perfect White Shirt, I'd want clones, plus a few extra sizes up and down, just in case. A girl can't be too careful.

And with every change of seasons, at least one famous stylist, celebrity, designer or muse  discovers that a Perfect White Shirt is Essential. This is as inevitable as pastels in spring, white in summer, earth tones in fall and black velvet in winter. The White Shirt will take you everywhere, trumpets the spokesperson du jour. Well, these days people wear anything to the opera, and as for "formal" benefits, the stratification in apparel is a living lesson in class structure. Since it doesn't seem likely that Anne Fontaine will revert to its former state of perfection, I turn my eyes elsewhere. Like to my Inbox, where I have received a message from Refinery 29. This faithful correspondent has discovered that every girl needs - guess what? A Perfect White Shirt! The Perfect White Shirt du Jour is the result of a collaboration between Jil Sander and Uniqlo, and retails for $49. I couldn't tell whether it was all cotton or not. It looks terrific, especially for the price, and if I weren't going out of town tomorrow I'd slither into Uniqlo and grab a few. Oh, and guess who is styling it for Refinery 29, so that their gormless readers will know how to wear it - an expert on web design from J.Crew. The mind boggles. Are there really people who need to be told that you wear shirts with pants or skirts? That you can tuck the shirt in, or not. That you can put something over it. Like a sweater. I'm still boggling. Oh, look, she's wearing it with a skirt! Oh, my, with pants and a jacket! Who would have thought of that? Well, having shamelessly copied the above photos from Refinery 29, I will now give you the text that accompanied them.

I recognize that when copywriters, editors, merchants, investors and photographers get to work, the person who had the idea in the first place often doesn't get to say anything about what happens to it. Jil Sander knows this.

Meanwhile, what's with the web talent business? If the subject is J.Crew, "web" and "talent" are not the words I would use together. It may be the economy, but a number of websites that I've visited lately have very little talent on display. Perhaps I'm not defining "talent" correctly. I think Emerson said "Common sense is genius dressed in its working clothes," and I'd add a corollary to that: "Talent is perseverance wearing a tutu." Meaning, stay on your project long enough to finish it, fact-check it and proof it. Then put on cute accessories and go for a drink.

fred comes home empty-handed and itchy

My hair's a little shorter for the summer, so the geometric sides swing forward and tickle my nose if I bend my head, to eat, to read a price tag, to look like I'm concentrating. And my nose doesn't deal well with being tickled. Add to that, we seem to be having an unusually lengthy pollen and mold season, heat and rain having made trees and plants think they're super-flora, and I really belong home, under air conditioning. Unusually for this early in August, however, sale merch has been cleared out of most stores, and it's just not possible even to keep an appointment for an allergy shot without passing shop windows. Or doors. I report:

Anne Fontaine. Used to be my go-to place for great white shirts, but for the past few years they've been overdoing the black-and-white or black-white-red thing. Will post about them again when a great white shirt comes to the surface (cue theme from Jaws).

J.CREW

J.Crew. I have seen the Schoolboy and it is -- fill in sardonic political comparison of your choice. If it were stock, someone would be facing prosecution for dilution. It even looks shrunken on the hangers. Something must be wrong with the fabrics, too, because my fingers started itching when I did the fabric rub. Saw navy, saw gray, stopped there. Orange tees. Orange everywhere. A harbinger of a change in foreign policy? Also the Paramilitary Marching Mercenary Mini, I mean the Cavalry Skirt, seemed much shorter in person than it looks on the web site. Or do I just take up more room in it? I'm trying to be fair here.

Gap. Good Friends and Family 30% off sale going on now. 35% with BR or Gap card. Here's a link -  Gapfriendsandfamily

Banana Republic. The stock in my local - unimpressive. The stock at the BR where I found the Madewell was arranged more enticingly, but my fingers also cracked and itched from substances whose names end in  -on and -ester and -ate. And more orange.

Barney's. Heavy construction going on at the door. Kept moving.

TALBOTS

Bloomingdale's. Still some sale stuff, some new stuff coming out on the floor. I usually have good luck with one or more of their Ralph Lauren or Lauren departments for basics, but not yet. And they have great sales, always did. So I'll wait.

Talbot's. Saw a skirt that looked like the J.Crew Paramilitary Marching Mercenary Mini, seemed long enough not to distract the troops. Cardigans, pants.

MADEWELL

Madewell.  My mom used to accuse certain long gone department stores of having magic mirrors. She loved everything she tried on in the store, got it home, remorse, remorse. She also claimed to believe that mind-bending gas was piped through the ventilating systems of certain unscrupulous merchants, so that you thought you were taller, slimmer, more well-to-do. After all, she'd say, they add oxygen to the AC to keep gamblers awake and losing in Vegas, so how do I know that commercial science stopped there? How, indeed, because Mom's mirror guy or maybe the Vegas gas guy supplies whoever designs the cute folksy dressing rooms at Madewell. I bought something that I adored in one of the Manhattan stores, got it home, put it on, it looked like it was designed and sewn by my worst enemy. I know I don't have bumps where that thing put them. I returned it to a Madewell store in the suburbs, not wanting to risk another inhalation. The SA didn't want to take it. I pointed to sales tag, showed my receipt, she continued to protest: that store didn't carry that item, she might have to send it (gasp!) to the City. I suggested we get the website up on my iPhone and have a responsive reading of the return policy. That did the trick. Looked around, jean shirts, orange tees, cute-sy socks, balled-up scarves. Lots of rayon. Is this 1930's nostalgia? In 1930's and 40's lit, only cheap chicks wear rayon. The gals who get the job or the guy wear silk or wool or real uniforms. Left the credit on the card, felt virtuous. There's still another ParaMilitary Skirt on the website but not in store.