Consider this:

My Vest Is Revolting And Other Thoughts About Sartorial Resistance

How do you solve a problem like Ivanka?

In October 2015, a friend and I were browsing at T.J. Maxx. A black velvet-and-faux-fur vest caught my eye. I tried it on and decided to buy it.

It wasn’t until after I’d made my purchase that I checked the label. “It’s an Ivanka!” I told my friend, oddly delighted to be in possession of a brand I associated with strands of fake gold (clearly, I was thinking about a different Trump).

I wore my new vest to a dinner party. In response to compliments, I unabashedly shared the designer’s name. It’s an Ivanka, I said. Of course, no last name was required. Friends smiled as if I’d told the world’s shortest joke: one word, just three little syllables that perfectly delivered both a set-up and a punch line.

Remember, this was the fall of 2015. It was months and months before anyone had given Donald Trump a second thought as a presidential candidate, let alone the Republican nominee, let alone … yeah, I know. It was a lifetime ago.

Today, my Ivanka hangs alone at the far end of my closet, a sad sartorial outcast. I just can’t bring myself to wear it.

A few key words explain my conflict: Japanese prime minister. $10,800 gold bracelet. Blind trust. Women. Dad. To help me solve my dilemma, I emailed a pop-quiz to some fellow female consumers across the country. It read:

Question: Imagine YOU have an Ivanka Trump design in your closet. It fits well and looks pretty good. Would you:

1. Wear it without a second thought
2. Wear it, but do so as a political statement
3. Donate it to Goodwill or other charity
4. Burn it (or otherwise Get. Rid. Of. It.)
5. Other

The answers poured in. Like our nation on Election Day, my voters were clearly divided between wearing it and chucking it. The accompanying “color commentary” was nuanced, passionate and reflective. Here’s a sampling:

Wear it to the Million Women March on January 21^st, 2017.

I’d burn it, although that may release toxins.

Wear it. Ivanka’s not responsible for her father’s idiocy, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll be an intelligent voice of reason. Or sell it and donate the money to a group like the Southern Poverty Law Center.

I’m getting rid of my very fancy Ivanka high-heels.

Mail it back to Ivanka stating that you regret to have supported a business that is owned by a woman who supports a man who is a misogynist and racist.

From bra burning in the 60s to the “We’d rather go naked” anti-fur campaign in the 90s, sartorial resistance is nothing new. I recently vowed never again to support Land’s End after the company pulled an interview with feminist and prochoice supporter Gloria Steinem. And there’s no shortage of folks currently calling for a boycott of Ivanka Trump designs. (In one pre-election poll, 75 percent of Democratic women, as well as nearly 60 percent of independent women and one third of Republican women said they would not support her brand.)

So where does this leave me and my vest? Frankly, I don’t want to wear it as a political statement (the constant explaining would be exhausting). Cutting out the tag just won’t cut it, as I’ll still know from whence it came. I could mail it back to Ivanka, but I suspect the vest and the statement would disappear in a mountain of mail. I can’t burn it (see toxins, above). If I sold it for charity, potential bidders would end up like me, with an offensive brand in their closet.

Finally, the idea that “maybe, just maybe, Ivanka will be an intelligent voice of reason” seems reasonable—at first. No one really knows where either Ivanka or her father stand on myriad issues, but it’s a pretty sure bet she’ll continue to support her father, just as she has all along. And that’s something I simply can’t support.

So, off with the vest. Today I’m cutting out the tag and donating it to Goodwill. Even without the fancy label, I’m certain someone else will be happy to wear it.

Chances are, it will look better on her, too.

 

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Cook this:

Coconut Curry Cashews

Chances are you’ll either entertain guests or be a guest at some point during the holiday season. Here’s a recipe from Rebecca Katz’s Healthy Mind cookbook for a tasty, crunchy nibble that’s a yummy addition to any selection of appetizers, whether on your table or someone else’s. If you store them in a nice Mason jar and decorate with a ribbon, these delicious nuts make a great gift, too.

Coconut Curry Cashews (Go ahead, double this recipe!)

1 tsp extra-virgin olive oil

1 tsp Grade B maple syrup

½ tsp curry powder

½ tsp ground ginger

¼ tsp sea salt

1 cup cashews

2 tsp shredded coconut

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

Put the olive oil, maple syrup, curry powder, ginger and salt in a bowl and stir to combine. Add in the cashews and coconut and stir well with a spatula to evenly coat the cashews with the spices. Spread them evenly on the baking sheet. Roast in the oven for about 8-10 minutes. Note: When in doubt, take them out. Nuts will continue to cook after you’ve removed them from the oven.

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Read this:

Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen

I’m all in favor in ending the year on a high note. As far as I’m concerned, any note provided by Bruce Springsteen is going to be all that – powerful, poetic and inspiring. It makes sense that The Boss’s written words, which are preserved in his new memoir, are as compelling as his songs. I haven’t quite finished this fascinating memoir, so I’m turning this review over to my pal Leigh Ann, who’s also a big fan of this rock legend.

The Boss has a lot to say. And he says it well. He’s a full cup, with descriptions of his Jersey life and crazy musical journey spilling over the edges as he shares and celebrates and lays bare his story. I loved this book for the honesty and the respect Springsteen shows his fellow musicians while still being truthful. Springsteen writes chronologically but always with an eye on the bigger picture. Battling poverty and a complex relationship with his dad, as well as trying to find his place in a neighborhood that was equal parts hostile and loving, took its toll, Springsteen delves often into his ongoing bouts of depression and anxiety. Despite being, of course, deeply personal, I found the book to be a breathless snapshot of a time we will never have again. The Boss recalls a time when we discovered the world without a cell phone or the Internet, when we took road trips and hoped we’d find each other somewhere on the other side of the country, trusting that our parents would never truly know what we were up to, and when we built a career from friendships instead of transactions. Born To Run is raucous and joyous, painful and urgent, and definitely worth the heft.