Have you noticed models and celebrities wearing half-tucked button-up shirts? How do you know what side to tuck in, and what do you do about the back?
Once upon a time, there was only one question: To tuck or not to tuck? Tucking in one’s shirt (for any gender and at any age) was viewed as a marker of good manners, a sign of institutional and self-respect and the default dress code whether in Congress or middle school. (I remember my mother reminding me to “tuck in your shirt.”)
As a teen, untucking was an act of rebellion and a refusal to conform. Untucking was comfortable, and relaxed. Untucking was cool.
As an adult, tucking was professional, which led to the creation of meant-to-be-untucked shirts, the kinds with straight, tailored hems that claimed to give everyone the best of both worlds. Now, we see the fashionable middle ground of the half-tuck, or the French tuck.
(Personally, I would appreciate an illustrated instruction manual.)
The French tuck involves tucking in the front of a shirt, but letting the back billow out like a cape. The half-tuck, on the other hand, involves tucking in one side of the shirt, while the other side remains free. According to a fashion stylist who works with Selena Gomez and Michelle Williams, among others, “the half-tuck comes from the oversize men’s shirting trend.”
It’s overwhelming to me…which is why I avoid the issue entirely by undoing the bottom few buttons and knotting the shirttails at my waist. Problem solved.
Renee Garrisonis the award-winning author of two Young Adult books, “The Anchor Clankers,”and“Anchored Together.”She is Past President of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.
Think of any major sporting event – from the Olympic Games to the Kardashian weddings – summer parties and festivals, weddings and even the odd funeral, and fireworks have become a technicolor backdrop to a moment of celebration. We’ve come a long way from the days when fireworks were largely confined to Independence Day and New Year celebrations in major cities.
It’s a hypnotic cocktail of science and spectacle, raw power and beauty, color and noise.
And here’s another reason why we love fireworks – they are fleeting. We know they will end, leaving us wanting more. At a time when we’re able to find anything on the Internet at the click of a button, spectators at fireworks shows have no control over the length of time they light up sky. (Even the best firecrackers last only a few seconds.)
In addition, to really appreciate fireworks you have to be there. It’s a rare mix of controlled, careful choreography with that exciting sense that anything might happen. Today, almost all large displays are fired electrically. But once that electrical pulse is turned into fire, the device is unstoppable – just like the USA.
Happy Fourth of July!
Renee Garrisonis the award-winning author of two Young Adult books, “The Anchor Clankers,”and“Anchored Together.”She is Past President of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.
I laughed when I read this article by Susan DeLay in The Hallard Press. That’s why I’m sharing it with you. Happy Mother’s Day! ~Renee
My mother lied to me.
Face it, with the possible exception of Mother Teresa, most mothers lie. Mom passed away three years ago at 89, but I am certain she spent most of her adult years burning the midnight oil and memorizing facts from Mom’s Axioms to Get Your Kids to Do What You Want. It’s a book that’s secretly handed down from generation to generation and available only to mothers, kindergarten teachers, and nannies.
Mom Lies Saved Lives
Mom passed away a few years ago, but I still remember the whoppers she told me when I was growing up—whoppers that I still live by. Granted, her lies were for my own good—designed to keep me safe, healthy, and most of all, alive. (Minus that big fat lie about having to eat carrots.)
While mothers everywhere tell us lying is not okay, that’s not completely true. The lies Mom told my brother, sister, and me might have meant the difference between death by spanking and death period.
Mom’s Top 10 Whoppers
Coffee will stunt your growth. My grandmother drank coffee and my parents drank coffee—a lot of it. How come they weren’t short? Starbucks may not know about this one. Neither do their millions of customers.
If you eat seeds (watermelon, orange, grapefruit), it’s inevitable you’ll end up with a tree growing in your stomach. I wonder if nutritionists know about this. They’re big on encouraging people to eat seeds as part of a healthy diet.
Crack your knuckles and your fingers will fall off. Yep, just like that. Thunk, thunk, thunk on the ground.
Wait 30 minutes after eating before going into the water or you’ll get cramps and die. I believed this one so strongly that I wouldn’t even get into the bathtub until at least 30 minutes after dinner. Showers are okay. You won’t die from a post-meal shower—unless you happen to be spending the night in the Bates Motel.
Wear a hat when you go outside in cold weather, or you’ll get pneumonia and die. A parallel safety violation is never go outside with wet hair because you’ll catch pneumonia and die. It’s okay to go out in the rain because you’re not made of sugar and you won’t melt. Just make sure you have a hat and umbrella. Otherwise, well, you could die.
Never answer a phone on the first ring. Rumor has it this is done to deceive people into thinking you have better things to do than sit by the phone. Of course, this was before we carried our phones with us everywhere we went. Even the bathroom. (Ewww.)
If you sit too close to the TV, you’ll go blind. Watching television in the dark is a surefire path to losing your eyesight. It won’t happen all at once, of course. Your eyes will start to deteriorate and you’ll need glasses, which is unfortunate because Mom also said boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses.
But wait. There’s more. After enough television watching from an unsafe distance, you’ll graduate to dark glasses, a white cane, and a seeing-eye dog. To this day, I watch TV from across the room with the lights on. Once you pass a certain age, your eyes are going to deteriorate anyway. Mom didn’t have an answer for that, but I did. It’s called old age.
If you forget something and go back into the house to get it, sit down before you leave again. There is a possibility you might die if you don’t. To this day, I follow this rule. I heard it from both my grandmother and my mom. And I think I read it in the National Enquirer, so it must be true.
This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you. This rule, usually applied before a parent doles out punishment, has puzzled children since the beginning of time. Just how, exactly is this going to hurt you more than me? I once offered to help take her pain by switching places. I was very sorry I asked.
My all-time favorite Mom lie is that eating carrots will not only help our eyesight, but it will also allow us to see in the dark. The World Carrot Museum says this falsehood was started by the British Ministry of Information to mislead the Nazi Luftwaffe (Air Force) during World War II. Luftwaffe pilots struck at night and thanks to secret radar technology, the Royal Air Force (RAF) fought them off. Rather than let the Nazis discover the Airborne Interception Radar, Brits concocted a farce that RAF pilots had night vision because they ate carrots. Lies. All of it.
I still think of my mother every time I stare down a cooked carrot.
Renee Garrisonis the award-winning author of two Young Adult books, “The Anchor Clankers,”and“Anchored Together.”She is Past President of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.
What appears on fashion runways rarely makes it into real women’s wardrobes. One exception: the seasonless white shirt.
It can be worn year-round and some people even wear it like a jacket, if they buy a slightly larger size. Its versatility is exactly what appeals to Angela Weck, a social worker and mother of three. Her white shirts easily make the transition from business to casual wear.
When the retailer Land’s End commissioned a national survey of women 18 and older, the company asked what items they wanted to add to their wardrobe. The top response (55 percent) was the classic white blouse.
“A white blouse can be the single most versatile item in a woman’s wardrobe,” says fashion coordinator and stylist Linda Zipkin. “Paired with a jacket and scarf, it can be dressed up, or worn with jeans for a fresh, casual look.”
If ironing isn’t for you, buy one with Lycra that won’t wrinkle. Tucked in and tailored or loose and relaxed, the white shirt is a year-round clothing chameleon. (Maybe mom needs one for Mother’s Day?)
Renee Garrisonis the award-winning author of two Young Adult books, “The Anchor Clankers,”and“Anchored Together.”She is Past President of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.
According to the headlines, “the Pantone Color of the Year 2023 is a fun and fearless hue.”
Evidently, I am neither.
I can’t imagine, say, sitting on a sofa on “a new animated red that revels in pure joy, encouraging experimentation and self-expression without restraint, an electrifying and a boundless shade.”
Be advised, the color will soon pop up in stores, be worn on the runway, and get brushed on the walls of our homes. When selecting Viva Magenta 18-1750, the color experts determined “it had to be a courageous color that reflects inner strength. Strong and spirited, Viva Magenta landed the role.”
“The last few years were transformative in many ways in terms of people’s sense of self, and the way well-being, priorities, and identity are being thought about,” says Laurie Pressman, vice president of the Pantone Color Institute, which provides customized color standards, brand identity and product color consulting as well as trend forecasting with the Pantone Color of the Year, Fashion Runway Color Trend Reports, color psychology and more.
The folks at Pantone say it’s a modern color that can be used in bold new ways, from eyeshadow to an attention-grabbing accent wall. (I’m more of a gray or beige girl, myself.) They chose it after extensive research—including inspiration pulled from art exhibits, travels, fashion shows, even TikTok videos.
I think I’ll just wait and see…
Renee Garrisonis the award-winning author of two Young Adult books, “The Anchor Clankers,”and“Anchored Together.”She is Past President of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.
I’ve never minded a scratch or a scuff on my leather purse – it means that I enjoy it and I use it.
Today, it seems that I am considered trendy! According to the Wall Street Journal, “women are both embracing their handbags’ scratches and stains and seeking out visibly worn-in styles on the secondhand market.” In its 2023 luxury consignment report, resale site the RealReal noted higher demand than ever for bags in “fair” (i.e., heavily worn) condition. Similarly, the folks at resale platform Vestiaire Collective report that sales of worn-in designer bags have jumped 13 percent in the last six months.
Renee Garrisonis the award-winning author of two Young Adult books, “The Anchor Clankers,”and“Anchored Together.”She is Past President of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.
Does anyone else like drawing in the dust? A long-ignored shelf or tabletop makes a great canvas for doodling with your finger. Unfortunately, it’s also a reminder that I should be cleaning.
Keeping a home consistently clean can feel like a full-time job. That’s why I read (with mild interest) an article on tips for keeping your space spotless.
The first recommendation was the 20/10 Rule:
You use a timer to train yourself to do brief cleaning periods throughout the week. For example, you can set a timer for 20 minutes and focus on cleaning something during those 20 minutes. Then, you give yourself a 10-minute break to do whatever you want.
This is highly unlikely for me.
Another suggestion was Have a schedule: For example, maybe Monday is for dusting and laundry, and Tuesday is for vacuuming and bathrooms. You can go from there, but as you’re doing more frequent cleaning, things have less of a chance to become big messes.
Again, highly unlikely.
The best idea was Do one room at a time. It’s overwhelming to think I have to clean an entire house. Maybe if I focused on one room at a time, I might stay motivated and accomplish something.
In the meantime, I think I’ll draw a happy face on the spot that I’ll dust…next week.
Renee Garrisonis the award-winning author of two Young Adult books, “The Anchor Clankers,”and“Anchored Together.”She is Past President of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.
I sympathize with everyone who lost their luggage on Southwest Airlines during the Christmas holidays.
The day after the September 11 attacks, I made the first of many calls to US Airways to see about retrieving my suitcase, which had been impounded at La Guardia Airport. After hours on hold, an airline employee asked for a description of my bag in order to locate it.
“It’s black,” I began.
“And I bet it has wheels and a pull-up handle,” she said.
This didn’t look promising.
She tried another approach. “Okay, if I open your suitcase, what will I see that tells me it’s yours?”
“Well, I have a pair of black slacks, a black turtleneck…and, um, a black skirt.”
I was in New York for Fashion Week, for God’s sake. Editors wear black, not Hawaiian prints. But I learned a valuable lesson: Something in your luggage must be easy to identify.
Miraculously, the airline found my black-wheeled-suitcase-with-handle in the impounded baggage. However, when I returned to Michigan, I marched into “Frederick’s of Hollywood” and bought the loudest leopard bikini panties – with a strategically placed red heart – that I could find. For many years, they were the final item I packed on every trip. I wanted to be sure that if another airline employee ever asked, ‘If I open your suitcase, what will I see?’ I’d have a much better answer.
First, let me say I’m not a Grinch. I have done Christmas above and beyond for nearly a quarter of a century for my children. I have hosted Christmas cookie exchanges, decorated trees fit for a Fifth Avenue shop window, dressed the dog in holiday attire, baked cookies for Santa, and wrestled holiday lights into the bushes. There’s not much Christmas I haven’t done.
Just not this year.
My children are older now and celebrate the holidays in their own homes (in other states.) Yes, it was magical when my kids would stumble down the stairs on Christmas morning and I’d watch their amazed little faces glow as they discovered the gifts under the lit tree. I have beautiful memories of those moments and I will cherish them forever.
However, this year I hung brand new stockings on the mantel – without embroidered names – and erected a 4-foot tree instead of a towering one. I’ll spend Christmas in my sister’s home as a guest rather than a host. I feel a different kind of anticipation: Spending Christmas with the person I shared a room with when we were small, the sibling who raised her family in another part of the country (and abroad) while I was busy raising mine. That’s the calmer, peaceful holiday that I’m cherishing this year.
I hope you have a Merry Christmas, too.
Renee Garrisonis the award-winning author of two Young Adult books, “The Anchor Clankers,”and“Anchored Together.”She is Past President of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.
Suzette’s early Christmas rituals occurred in a snowy New England city, with aunts and uncles, neighbors, and friends gathered at her grandparents’ dining table. The scene was pure Norman Rockwell.
Norman Rockwell never painted this one.
Though she never had a brother – at least not a biological one – 14-year-old Suzette LeBlanc acquired 150 of them when her father became Commandant of the Sanford Naval Academy, a boy’s boarding school on the shores of Lake Monroe in Florida. The family moved into a small apartment on the school grounds, where Suzette began to feel like something on a specimen slide in biology class.
For a time, parents sent their sons to military school to learn structure and discipline. They wanted a strong male influence. They did not, however, want girls. So, Suzette’s high school education occurred elsewhere, at a parochial school thirty minutes away.
When the Sanford Naval Academy emptied of students during Christmas break, the Commandant’s nightly ritual of Cutty Sark—consumed in his reclining chair facing the television—drove his wife and daughter out of their small apartment to search for something festive.
They found it in the lights on the twenty-foot tree which glowed brightly in the middle of a deserted Quarterdeck. The space had once been the lobby of a luxury resort hotel that was converted to the military boarding school. Suzette liked to think the original hotel probably had a similar Christmas tree, but then, they probably also had more guests to enjoy it.
Chairs in the far corners of the room disappeared in the dark, along with offices, classroom doors, and the stairway leading to the upper floors. Surprisingly, the illuminated area surrounding the tree seemed kind of cozy as her mother settled on one couch and Suzette on another, basking in the Christmas lights.
When it came to enjoying holiday decorations at the academy, it was either a feast or famine: the small tree in their claustrophobic apartment or the enormous version in the deserted school lobby. Odd that both spaces felt equally empty to Suzette, lacking in the warmth that gives holidays their special meaning.
She knew that a Christmas tree alone does not constitute a holiday. That came in the form of the midshipmen, those young gentlemen-in-training, who arrived at her door in the evenings under the pretext of questions for her father. In truth, she figured they needed her mother’s attention more, along with some semblance of family life.
Suzette never considered herself to be an only child, yet the seven-year age gap between her and her sister made it seem so. Magically, their apartment had filled with new siblings. A handful became regular guests at the dinner table since an invitation from her family provided a chance to escape the crowds and sameness that was served in the Mess Hall.
She guessed that midshipmen joined the family based on some combination of her father’s opinion of them, her mother’s intuition, and her own tolerance of their friendly overtures. They filled a void she scarcely knew existed, and suddenly, they were gone.
The Christmas tree was the last remnant of weeks filled with cookies, gift exchanges, and a senior midshipman known as “Big Mac’s” arrival as Santa at an ice-cream-and-cake party hosted by the academy for sixty children from the Methodist Children’s Home. It provided a backdrop for photos during the Christmas Formal Dance where Suzette was escorted by a quiet, young man from Panama with soulful brown eyes.
Those activities had lessened Suzette’s “transplanted Yankee” loneliness and filled her with a sense of family far greater than the one she had been born into. The midshipmen needed the LeBlancs as much as the family needed them.
New rituals replaced her Norman Rockwell Christmas, yet tonight, Suzette couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that she’d been jettisoned in favor of the boys’ real holiday, the one spent with family members who shared their name.
Sitting in the empty Quarterdeck, mother and daughter wondered aloud about the midshipmen’s homes, their parents and if the boys might miss them, too, when they returned to their native habitats.
“I bet Big Mac and his brother are cold in Connecticut.”
“Yeah, the kids from New Jersey probably are freezing, too. The boy from Panama isn’t too happy either, since it’s the rainy season there.”
Suzette stared at the colored lights. She didn’t want to go back to their apartment just yet.
“This tree is huge. I wonder where the school bought it.”
“I don’t know. We can ask your father. It really smells terrific though, doesn’t it?”
They sat in silence for a while. Suzette wondered how her mother could live with a man who drank himself to sleep each night in front of the television. Both women missed the young men who had become such a part of their family until the boys joyfully abandoned them to return to their biological ones.
The temporary nature of those bonds became clear that night as the Christmas tree shimmered with blue and gold ornaments above “gifts” wrapped in shiny metallic paper.
Suzette knew the boxes beneath it were as empty as her heart.
Excerpted from The Anchor Clankers. Renee Garrison is an award-winning author and past president of the Florida Authors and Publishers Association.
Renee Writes Now! 