The Fall "two piece"

I first became interested in the Fall "two piece" when I saw pictures of the lovely Jennifer Lopez at a press event this past Winter. I, like most, assumed this Chloé ensemble was just that - an ensemble - an aesthetic created from the piecing together of a brushed taffeta high-waisted skirt and a slim, cropped, tuck-in-able cashmere sweater.

But as I did my requisite find-that-outfit searching, I came to realize, that's no skirt and sweater combo -- that's a dress.

Months later, I bought the October issue of Lucky Magazine, in part because I adore all things Mandy Moore, in part because I couldn't stop staring at the skirt and ruffled cami she wore on the cover. As I hurriedly flipped to the "Cover Look" page to find out just how significant a portion of my savings acquiring her outfit would require, I saw, as I had above, not the words "skirt" and "blouse" but rather "Mandy's" and "dress." Once again, I'd been fooled.

And now I'm hooked on what I like to call the "two piece" dress. As with printed, floral, metallic and brightly colored varieties, the "two piece" dress is not a necessity. In fact, if you're looking for to add versatile professional pieces to your wardrobe this Fall, I'd steer you in the direction of separates, not a dress that gives the illusion thereof. Why? Well, for starters, dresses can only achieve a singular look. Sure, you can place a jacket or sweater over top and play a bit with your frock's appearance, but for the most part, your red, purple and white graphic printed sheath, Marc Jacobs and super cute though it may be, can only perform one act. A skirt and blouse in rich neutrals, however, can spin off, mix into and spice up your existing components to create any number of unique outfit permutations.

If, on the other hand, you've been good this past season and saved more than you've spent, I wholeheartedly endorse bringing a "two piece" dress into your for-Fall fold. Here below are a few of my favorite, almost all of which, surprise surprise, fall into the "If I had a sugar daddy..." price point.

If a $400 dress isn't and never will be a possibility, sit tight for I have a sneaking feeling Zara and company will stock their stores soon with much more affordable versions.

Until then, enjoy the view...

Runway shift dress by Tracy Reese ($400 at eluxury.com)

Turtlneck satin skirt dress by Rachel Roy ($995 at net-a-porter.com)
Two-tone jacquard dress by Milly ($350 at net-a-porter.com)*

A-line tuxedo dress by Shoshanna ($305 at southmoonunder.com)

Cowl-neck sweater dress by Thread Social ($617 at otteny.com)

Two-tone ruffle neck dress by Franny ($352 at ronherman.com)

Diamond turtleneck dress by Alice & Olivia ($396 at saks.com)

High-waisted knit dress by Adam + Eve ($385 at saks.com)*

Two-toned belted shirt dress by Calvin Klein ($140 at dillards.com)
Coince cap-sleeve dress by Tibi ($400 at shopbop.com)*

Dotted wool dress by Marc by Marc Jacobs ($498 at shopbop.com)

*your Editrix's top picks

40 guys and a pretty red sundress

Since 1988, the year I pushed my way onto the boys-only Summer baseball league with my blue leather Darryl Strawberry outfielder's glove and an ego the size of Lake Michigan, I've come to appreciate and recognize the benefits of a heavily-in-my-favor male-to-female ratio.

At eight years old, my parents were concerned I might be intimidated or uncomfortable with the situation, but being the precocious little thing I was, I was much more consumed with perfecting my third-to-first snap and nailing my "uh-huh-that's-right" eye-contact with the cutest boy's father on the opposing team. It didn't even occur to me to be bothered by the fact I was the only player in the dugout without a plastic junk-cup strapped to my waist.

Since my final summer stint with the Beulah Berettas in '92, I've managed to place myself in more than a few male-dominated circumstances (read into that statement what you will), none, however, as satisfying - or educational - as those few glorious Junes, Julys and Augusts I spent getting my first formative lessons in what made boys tick.

Last night, as I sauntered into Bobby Van's uncharacteristically early and well aware I'd be sitting on my own for at least 10 minutes until my companion arrived "rock star late" as he called it, I adjusted the criss-cross backstraps on my red sundress, clicked shut the finicky hinge on my 1952 vintage purse and relished the opportunity to have a few alone moments to silently judge those seated in my vicinity. The al fresco dining setup at this particular steakhouse is bifurcated with a more casual bar area on the left and a you-must-order-dinner area on the right. I chose right and was shown to a corner table for two -- the perfect perch for people-watching. Having already ordered my drink - Heffeweisen, not Stella - and received yet another, "running late - sorry" text, I decided to relax, nosh on some bread with garlic-infused butter and take in the crowd.

It only took me a few seconds to recognize the peculiarity of the demographics. To my right, two men in suits and ties, next to them, four men in suits without ties, and surrounding them, three other gaggles in a mixture of casual Friday golf shirts and khakis, dress shirts and jeans and a guy who clearly knew a Georgetown stop was in his near future sporting a white Lacoste polo and a pair of J. Crew madras patchwork pants. No elderly mother, no overworked hired-'cause-she-looks-good assistant, not even a Russian prostitute waiting for a Brioni-clad businessman. I was it. I was the only woman.

Normally, I'd be happy as a Crystal Lake clam for numbers like those I encountered last night (especially in a makes-my-jumblies-look-good frock such as the one I had on), but considering that the whole point in choosing this locale was to explore adjacent-to-the-White-House cusp-of-Summer Friday night style - female style - the 40:1 male-to-female odds I was facing were not helpful.

In the end, I came to realize that like much of the rest of DC, Bobby Van's on a Friday night is conservative, navy-pinstripe-heavy, shrouded in clouds of Davidoff cigar smoke and curiously female-free. A Friday night that despite a fairly decent filet and wonderful company, has inspired me to stay inside today switching between pints of Cinnamon Buns and Marsha-Marsha-Marshmallow B&J ice cream while watching USA Network's treasure trove of so-very-me movies: About a Boy, Pretty Woman, Love Actually, and coming up next, the matchless Notting Hill.

Ladies, corny as it is, be sure to add this Ronan Keating classic to your "She rescues him right back" iMix:

Taking the spy game to Happy Hour

If you hadn't noticed, I've been quite mum on the progress of my heels-and-marital-status study over the past few weeks.

My silence is not tantamount to project abandonment or even due to your author's waning interest in the topic. Hardly. No, the main problem - the only problem - is that it is damn difficult to gather the evidence I need (i.e. heel-height, heel-thickness, ring-or-no-ring?) when women are walking by me at a relatively quick clip. Compounding this is that I too am often on-foot while slurping down my midday protein shake.

What? Like you don't spend your 20 minute lunch walking in perfect squares around your office in 4-inch heels? Please. How else on earth is a girl supposed to earn her even-all-over Spring base-tan when the weekends are always rainy and/or 10 degrees colder than the weekdays?

But I digress.

The point is, without quite literally stalking and staring at women beyond the universally-accepted just-takin'-a-look time limit (for women, this runs about five seconds; for men, even if you're Cheney-hot, no more than three), I can't accurately and with confidence collect my three pieces of data.

My solution, then, is to tack onto the end of my original operational definition of "DC" - "a four-block radius of the ConnAve/M St. intersection" the addendum "and any right-after-work (i.e. between 5-7pm) happy hours within DC proper."

This way, sitting down, relaxed with a Heineken Light or an altered Kir Royale (sue me, I prefer getting my ounce of color with Chambord, not crème de cassis), I can sip, speak and get my sexy spy on all at the same time.


Starting now at Panache.