Styling SLOWING (Part III)

Notes on endings, familiarity, and the color blue

I’ve come to think of blue as the color of nuance. It soothes but also sharpens.

I have distinct memories of blue growing up: smudged ink on birthday cards, limbs or textures in my grandmother’s paintings, an emblem of the first subway line I rode when I moved to New York, and most notably, teasing my father for wearing the color almost exclusively. But I understand now how much of an armor blue became for him over the years—uniform in practice when everything was thrown into chaos beneath the surface. In this way, we are cut from the same cloth. As an adult, blue has also become my go-to color. It doesn’t ask me to button up. It’s shapeless, timeless. I can show up as myself in its presence.

Oh, how it’s present—in views outside of frosted window panes, in the threads of sweaters with product names like “Winter Skies,” which are crafted in show-stopping shades of cobalt, navy, and steel. Then there is the less visible but equally powerful blueness that emerges in early winter—an apt image for unimaginable sadness and fear, especially in our volatile political climate.

But what if, despite the state of the world, blue could inspire something else? A cool contentment around the darker days and colder temperatures.

Lately, I’ve wondered how it would have felt to explore color (read: this color) in Slowing—in the context of time and pace. I probably wouldn’t have known where to begin because everything during that time adopted a muted palette I hadn’t yet learned how to work with. That’s the thing about writing (and living): We may have the words, but they only gain color when we begin to get comfortable with gray area.

From my essay “Winter:”

“As winter stretches across an ending and a beginning, I’m unsure of how to orient myself in time. But somehow, each year, I fashion myself into someone who knows a thing or two about the world.”

From “Winter: On Style” (Slowing)

Here is what I know for sure: things make sense to me in visuals just as much as language—and others have better recognized/utilized blue on the page. Take Maggie Nelson’s Bluets:

“Suppose I were to begin by saying I had fallen in love with a color. Suppose I were to speak this as though it were a confession; suppose I shredded my napkin as we spoke. It began slowly. An appreciation, an affinity. Then, one day, it became more serious. Then (looking into an empty teacup, its bottom stained with thin brown excrement coiled into the shape of a seahorse) it became somehow personal. And so I fell in love with a color—in this case, the color blue—as if falling under a spell, a spell I fought to stay under and get out from under, in turns.”

Or Joan Didion’s introduction to Blue Nights:

“You pass a window, you walk to Central Park; you find yourself swimming in the color blue: the actual light is blue, and over the course of an hour or so this blue deepens, becomes more intense even as it darkens and fades … During the blue nights you think the end of day will never come. As the blue nights draw to a close (and they will, and they do) you experience an actual chill, an apprehension of illness, at the moment you first notice: the blue light is going, the days are already shortening…”

There is a pulse in these sentences—tangible threads like the ones that make up the clothing that inspired this slow story. A stylish tapestry of experience and consciousness.

Between my essays and interviews, Slowing is woven of collective experience and attention paid to life’s ordinary moments. For that reason, none of it may be revolutionary, but I think that’s why it’s resonant. Familiarity isn’t (always) a failure of imagination; it’s a reminder that we’re not alone. Perhaps that’s why I’m now most drawn to blue: its abundance. We are in community with this primary color. It remains in the sky, in the ink of our pens, in our wardrobes, on our minds, in our hearts. It’s a familiar feeling. An old story. A tried and true palette—at once the hardest to ignore and easiest to understand.

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From Slowing’s Design Diary:

“I thought about the colors that often make up my day: a bright morning sun, golden yellow—sometimes blinding or quietly emerging from a wall of clouds. An afternoon walk in Prospect Park, where greenery abounds … Then, that blue sky—expansive and universal, up until it gives way to the blue hours of the evening, a bruised palette representative of a hard day or a hard day’s work.”

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Styling Slowing

In August, I shared a personal style edit inspired by the colors of Slowing’s cover. (So much care and intention went into the book’s palette; you can revisit the design diary here.) Today marks the final installment of the series. From the practical to the whimsical, here are some pieces I’m wearing and eyeing—inspired by Slowing’s third section, “End.”

End

Follow me on Instagram, and you’ll notice that blue is often the beginning and end of my uniform—a core staple or the finishing touch to an outfit. But it also goes deeper than aesthetics.

If you’ve listened to Slow Stories’s podcast, you may recall my comment about associating books with certain times of the day. I haven’t been able to do that as easily with Slowing—each section in the book embodies the full spectrum of time and place. Open to “End,” and you’ll be greeted with a deep blue page, hopefully eliciting a deep breath. Read on and discover that endings can be both blue-sky mornings filled with possibility or sapphire nights of remembrance.

On the note of reflection: This week marks three months of Slowing being in the world. It also marks the end of something I can’t quite name. This will likely be the last piece I’ll write about Slowing for a while. I’m blue with feeling and ready for the next chapter. As I write in the book (from the essay “Dreams: On Endings”): Nothing lasts forever: not a dream, not a job, not a story.

Endings, like all things, are what you make of them—in life and style.

SWEATERS & TOPS

babaà Jumper No 17 in Winter Skies - Caron Callahan Lewiston Sweater - Cawley British Dry Oilskin Alma Mac in Weathered Marine - Donni Quilted Coat in Navy - Modern Citizen Eloise Button Cable Cardigan - Sézane Betty Cardigan in Navy Crochet - Sézane Will Jacket in Navy - TOAST Front Pocket Soft Indigo Twill Shirt

PANTS & DRESSES

Jamie Haller Baggy Painter Jean - Shaina Mote Boy Trouser in Navy

SHOES & ACCESSORIES

Aperçu LE CARRÉ in Marine - Book/Shop Cap in Navy - Catbird x Laufey Like a Lune Bunny Charm in Silver - Comme Si Cashmere Sock in Navy - Jenny Bird Dylan Ear Cover - Le Bon Shoppe Blue Cashmere Bandana - Levens Jewels Blue Lagrima Earrings - Loeffler Randall Leonie Navy Leather Ballet Flat - Library Science Namesake Hat - Sandy Liang Kady Balaclava in Navy - Virginia Sin Flower Cap - Workaday Blue Short Mug

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For Your Next Chapter

If you enjoyed this Slowing diary, check out the previous installments…