Heaven scent

Y ou could call odor the holy spirit of fashion. You can`t see it, but you cannot deny its influence.

Take the good smells, like my baby`s hair, aka mama`s heroin. Even when my daughter is screaming because some bully is trying to force her to wear pants on her legs instead of her head, the scent of her blond curls turns my frustration into mushy love. Biology was strategic here. Moms need to like their kids, so kid-scalp smells like awesome.

I'm sure poodle feet -- which smell like a curiously wonderful combo of barley and Fritos-- have the same survival evolution.

And husband armpit. The cavewoman in me smiles when he smells like manual labor, car grease and landscaping. This isn't a "good" smell, per se, not like lilacs or potpourri. Pretty much the opposite. But it resonates on a cellular level, saying, "This man works hard and will take care of you and your Frito-feet dogs."

A few years ago, my friend B and I went out after playing softball. We were dirt-smeared, stinky and crusted in sun-cooked Heineken spillage. And never have any girls been hit on as much as we were that night. Strange, what with all of the money that goes into producing synthetic odors that are supposed to attract others and make us feel beautiful.

Before hippies raise their arms in celebration, let me be clear I'm not advocating what you have brewing under there. In fact, I once gifted a French exchange student a very necessary (as in so-stinky-you-can-taste-it) stick of deodorant. (He still didn`t use it.)

And nothing makes me want to punch faces more than the cocktail of patchouli and unwashed dreadlocks.

But the eye-watering blast of too much Elizabeth Arden musk is just as bad. In fact, there's a Facebook group just for this phenomenon: Banning "Old Lady" Perfume.

I was recently reminded of this problem after having lunch with an acquaintance who bathes in Charlie, and then dries off with White Diamonds, and then powders with Emeraude and then accents with Estee Lauder Youth Dew. And then double-accents with Obsession.

When I got back in the office, I realized her perfume had jumped onto me like and embedded itself into my flesh like a tick. I couldn't smell anything else. I got dizzy. Nauseous. After a few raised eyebrows, I realized everyone thought it was my intentional funk. I needed to go home sick. And take a lighter to my clothes. Just like a real tick.

So how do you find the balance between smelling like a dirty Dumpster-diver and a newly divorced man with his shirt halfway unbuttoned to reveal his chest fluff?

Moderation. Spray it in the air and walk through it. Dab it. If you go through more than a bottle a month and you have no friends, consider the connection.

Choose a more subtle "body mist" or lotion instead. However, you don`t need to use a scented soap, exfoliater, shaving cream, lotion, mist and perfume.

But beware of too much mist. Basically I am talking about Axe body spray and 16-year-old boys. I know it's exciting that you finally have B.O., but calm down.

Find the right scent. For my friend B, that means dabbing her favorite scent, coconut rum, on her wrists.

Photo by Flickr user anetz.

We all look stupid in skinny jeans

Striped socks, funky skirt from The Ritz - it's Fashion Under the Flatirons. ( Jonathan Castner)

I promise ye this: Some day, we will look back at jeggings and laugh. Big, wild, side-aching, tear-inducing guffaws.

That day is today.

Come on, World. Can't you see that jeggings (leggings with denim-print fabric, complete with painted-on pockets and fake zippers) are Pajama Jeans without the infomercial?

The pressure from the skinny-jeans trend has pushed otherwise fashionable women into dark, desperate places. Places with fake pockets and elastic waistbands. That's because skinny jeans are designed for 13-year-old emo boys, German technomeisters and Skeletor. Not women. And certainly not comfort.

I look stupid in skinny jeans. There. I said it. And you can admit it, too. The skin-tight legs force my calf flesh ever-upward until it inner tubes over the top of the waist. Skinny jeans make me look pointy toward the ankles, inaccurately thigh-heavy and they give me body-image issues I never knew I had before. That is because I have estrogen, and because this particular trend is not flattering for my shape.

And that is OK.

Part of fashion is honesty: recognizing and accepting what flatters and what flattens, what works and what is too much work. And sneaky Pajama Jeans trying to disguise themselves as designer denim is simply a lie.

Needless to say, my pointy feet were happy to see more wide-legged jeans and pants in the Fashion Under the Flatirons fashion show on March 10.

The second-annual show, organized by Downtown Boulder Inc., highlighted about 60 different outfits from downtown Boulder businesses.

"One of the things that is so great is it gives stores a chance to give a side of themselves that people might not know about," says Anna Salim, event manager. "For example, everyone knows The Ritz has costumes, but not everyone knows they have great boutiquey things that are really fashionable."

Or that Little Mountain Outfitters is one of the only stores in the state that specializes in outdoor clothing for kids -- despite the obvious perfect fit for a city like Boulder.

Terri Takata-Smith, director of marketing for Downtown Boulder, says the Pearl Street and surrounding area's 49-square blocks offer a wide range of prices, fashion tastes and hidden treasures

"It is a one-stop shop that isn't your typical mall," she says.

Here are a few spring and summer trends to look forward to, according to Kathy King with Barbara & Company, 1505 Pearl St., which featured several outfits in the show:

Tops: Look for doleman sleeves, which are full sleeves that are wide at the armhole but narrow at the wrist. Also look for drapey georgette-style tops with a slight '70s feel.

Accessories: "Multimedia" scarves, with multiple fabrics, patterns and accents, like beading and roping. Multi-strand, long necklaces with leather cords and ivory, turquoise and silver charms.

Colors: Bright corals, oranges and bright pinks, as well as every shade of blue. Even navy, but only with trendy clothes; otherwise, it looks too old.

Pants: Although skinny jeans are still in and will be strong for a while, wider-leg pants are on the horizon. Want to be ahead of the trends? Pick up some white linen pants with a softer leg. White is a great way to tone down the bright tops.

Devon: You can't party without a party dress

God (or my mother's uterus) never gifted me a sister.

I tried to whittle little brother Nathan into the shape of a female, duct-taping him to the kitchen chair and attacking him with a curling iron and Aqua Net. But eventually, puberty stole his smooth cheeks and blessed him with muscles with which to punch me. I had to find a new life-sized doll to play with.

This one didn't squirm.

Her name was Devon, and I found her in middle school. Devon was the King Midas of fashion. She could transform sweatpants into haute couture with the wave of her Coach bag. Ever since she was a pre-teen -- while the rest of us were wearing mismatched breasts, slightly-too-hairy-but-too-young-to-shave legs and blue eyeliner three awkward centimeters above our lash lines -- Devon was halting traffic and derailing trains with her glamour.

Barbie's hair looks like scraggly meth-fuzz next to Devon's locks: thick, always lustrous and never flat. Her hair actually grows out of her head in perfect curls, just like her nails sprout from her fingers in shiny red, never chipped. She was born with a strand of shiny pearls around her neck. Her legs wax themselves. Sephora designs its make-up collections around Devon's palette, and bottles her natural scent to sell as perfume.

Devon is legendary. She's Paul Bunyanette.

Especially with regards to her Party Dresses. (Yes, these warrant their own proper nounage.)

Devon has a Party Dress for every occasion, even the fake holidays like President's Day and National Cement Between The Bricks Awareness Day. She shows up to gatherings with extra accessories to disperse to the paltry style-peasants (like yours truly) who didn't have the fashion foresight to design a full seasonal line with three costume changes in honor of the occasion. In fact, my favorite green sunnies were a Devon-distributed party favor on St. Patty's Day (as well as the only reason I didn't get pinched, because God knows green isn't my power color).

Seeing that Devon has no fewer than three special Party Dresses designated for the day after the day after her second cousin's birthday, try to imagine, if your mind can even stretch this far without pulling a neurotransmitter, the kind of glory that adorns my friend's body on New Year's Eve.

Try. Now weep.

Norman Hartnell, eat your hart (sp.) out.

(He was the Queen's dressmaker of the '40s-50s. You would know that if you were Blue Blood or Devon.)

It's a (non-blood) family tradition that we dance in the New Year's together, and of course, Devon had her New Year's Party Dress six months ago. Equally of course, it wasn't until I could count the final hours of 2010 on two feet that I realized I had nothing to wear to the ball, Cinderella.

With no time for shenanigans, I hit up a store that looks strikingly similar to my sister's closet, quite possibly the world's best dress store: Violette Boutique, 1631 Pearl St. in Boulder, violetteboulder.com.

A month ago, Violette expanded to open another store across the street, Lilli. The latter offers the "casual side of chic," with jeans, casual shirts, a wider range of sizes and a special section in the back of little girl's tutus. Each dressing room has its own theme (cowgirl, Eastwick, pink retro).

Part of the reason to open Lilli, according to the owners (a mother, daughter and grandmother team): to clear out more room to make Violette fluffier, floofier and dressier.

Yes.

Lillie St. Germain, the grandmother, helped me sift through the tulle to find five fave last-minute New Year's little black dresses from which to choose, or line up for a five-point costume change.

1. Little black sexy. This dress, with thick straps crossing on the upper back, is form-fitting, hott (with two t's) and fun, $48.

2. Timeless and forgiving. This one is more demure, with pleats and a lace bottom that flatters any body shape, $115. Cinch with a sparkly belt.

3. Chanel who? This Chanel knockoff is black with white lace pocket detailing and scattered black sequins, $85. It's fashionable, hip and a little modest, too.

4. A comfortable corset. This dress is made out of soft cotton, with an off-white lace accent print, but it's super sexy with a black corset top and zipper, $84.

5. Don't buy this because I'm wearing it. This dress looks retro '50s with a fitting top and flowing A-line skirt, perfect for twirling, $88. Now add a little toughness with a thick gold zipper on the back, permanently unzipped to the waist, and a matching front zipper that you can zip as high as you want (or increasingly lower, corresponding to the amount of champagne you consume).

The instant I saw this dress, I knew it was me: a little old fashioned, a little over the line. Why did it have to be one of the most expensive dresses in a shop known for its low price points? In a tizzy, I text-attacked Devon.

Me: I found the perfect party dress, but it's too expensive. I need it.

Me: Please help me cope with this hardship.

Me: I am mourning it not being on my body at all times.

Me: Dear Devon, I want it. Love Sis.

Finally, the response floated in, as if on a Magic Eight Ball.

Devon: Dear Aims, the heart wants what the heart wants. Love Sissy.

Which is exactly why everyone needs a good sister: Unconditional condonation.