#caftans with pocket
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Kaftans are a timeless piece of clothing that never goes out of style. They're versatile, comfortable, and perfect for any occasion. If you're looking for a new kaftan to add to your wardrobe, look no further than the Colorblock Maxi Kaftan with Pockets from Tamsy. In this article, we'll give you some styling suggestions on how to wear this kaftan and make it your own.
1. What is a Kaftan?
Before we dive into styling suggestions, let's first define what a kaftan is. A kaftan is a loose-fitting garment that originated in the Middle East and Africa. It's a long, flowy tunic that's typically made of lightweight fabrics such as cotton, silk, or chiffon. Kaftans come in various designs, patterns, and colors, and can be worn by both men and women.
2. The Colorblock Maxi Kaftan with Pockets
The Colorblock Maxi Kaftan with Pockets from Tamsy is a perfect blend of comfort and style. It's made of soft and breathable fabric that will keep you cool on hot summer days. The kaftan features a beautiful colorblock design with hues of blue, pink, and yellow, making it a perfect choice for the US audience. The kaftan also has pockets on both sides, making it practical and functional.
3. Styling Suggestions
Now, let's talk about how you can style the Colorblock Maxi Kaftan with Pockets. Here are some suggestions to get you started:
a. Casual Look
For a casual look, pair the kaftan with some white sneakers and a denim jacket. You can also accessorize with a straw hat and a tote bag for a complete look.
b. Beach Look
The Colorblock Maxi Kaftan with Pockets is perfect for a day at the beach. Pair it with some strappy sandals and a wide-brimmed hat. You can also accessorize with some sunglasses and a beach bag.
c. Evening Look
For an evening look, pair the kaftan with some wedges and statement earrings. You can also accessorize with a clutch and some bangles for a complete look.
4. How to Care for Your Kaftan
To keep your Colorblock Maxi Kaftan with Pockets looking new, follow these care instructions:
- Machine wash in cold water
- Tumble dry on low heat
- Iron on low heat if necessary
- Do not bleach
5. Conclusion
The Maxi Kaftans by Tamsy is a versatile and stylish piece of clothing that can be worn for any occasion. Whether you're going to the beach or attending an evening event, this kaftan will make you look and feel amazing. Follow our styling suggestions, and you'll be sure to turn heads wherever you go.
6. FAQs
Q1. What size does the Colorblock Maxi Kaftan with Pockets come in?
A1. The kaftan is available in One Size.
Q2. What type of fabric is the kaftan made of?
A2. The kaftan is made of soft and breathable Rayon fabric.
Q3. Can I wear the kaftan in the winter?
A3. The kaftan is more suitable for the summer as it's made of lightweight fabric.
#kaftans#kaftans for women#long kaftans#women's kaftan#women's fashion#women's wear#Women's Clothing#caftans#women's caftan#maxi kaftan#maxi caftan#long kaftan#kaftan with pockets#caftans with pocket#long caftan
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Clues
This is how Sherlock Holmes seduces me, with long fingers and murmured Italian, with midnight violin and inexplicable clues.
May 19: Clues
Note: This one is dedicated to @totallysilvergirl and @keirgreeneyes for their remark: "@calaisreno could make a compelling story out of a drugstore receipt." Well, I tried!
“What do you make of that?”
The long, thin fingers of Sherlock Holmes dangle before my eyes, holding a slip of paper.
A clue, I think.
He drops the paper in my lap and I examine it. A receipt, from the corner shop. Cigarettes, £6.51.
He’s muttering to himself in Italian, dropping pieces of clothing on the furniture and floor. The door to his bedroom closes.
This is how Sherlock Holmes seduces me, with long fingers and murmured Italian, with midnight violin and inexplicable clues.
Clues. It means something, this piece of paper. It’s always something like that, insignificant to the point where an ordinary man (me) dismisses it, only to see it reappear hours or days later, the key piece of evidence that unravels the mystery.
I am, unfortunately, ordinary. To me, it’s just a receipt.
Sometimes Holmes takes my hand in his long, white fingers. He kisses the knuckles, and looks up at me, pale eyes through dark lashes. And he murmurs, alkaline.
Later, I’ll know what it meant. We’ll be standing around a body, and Holmes will have his pocket lens out, examining the curtains. Lestrade will be impatiently shifting from foot to foot, wondering why he’s let a madman into his crime scene. And Holmes will say, The sole of a shoe is like a passport. And he will explain.
Solutions are for explaining. Clues are not. And explanations are rarely forthcoming when there are still more clues to be found.
Just once, I’d like to be holding the final clue, to produce it when he’s putting it all together, to hand it to him with a smile. To see his face light up, hear him exclaim, Watson, you’ve done it!
But I am ordinary.
I hold the paper between my short, ordinary fingers, wondering what it could mean.
When Holmes comes out of his room, he is wearing a long caftan and a head wrap, and smells of vetiver. “Don’t wait up for me,” he says as he leaves.
Like a soldier at the front, I sleep lightly on the sofa, waiting for the summons. If inconvenient, come all the same.
It’s never inconvenient; I live for such moments.
He doesn’t return until the following day, late. This time he’s wearing a flat cap and dungarees.
“Drayman?” I ask.
“Plumber’s assistant.”
He accepts the tea I make, takes two sips, stares into the void for some minutes, and goes into his room, still holding the cup.
I know that look. The game will soon be afoot. At a moment’s notice, we’ll be off— running down an alley, cornering our prey. I fall asleep on the sofa, dressed for action.
When I wake, he is gone again. His bed has not been slept in. I berate myself for sleeping deeply while Sherlock Holmes has been tracking dangerous criminals.
I have put his dinner plate in the refrigerator, washed the dishes, and looked for clues. His deerstalker hat is on the floor beneath his chair. The remains of a cigarette lie crushed in the ashtray. There are crumbs on the table. A half-drunk cup of tea sits balanced precariously on the mantel.
The call eventually comes. We jump into the waiting cab and race to the crime scene.
He’s pacing, humming. My excitement builds. I can see that his mind has almost broken the puzzle.
It’s the moment, I think.
I offer it to him, the final clue, the receipt. I have no idea what it means, but I’m sure it’s the missing piece. I’ll hand it to him, and his face will go slack with surprise for a moment, and then he’ll seize the paper and tell us what it means. And his fingers will brush mine, and I’ll know that I have— even if just for a moment— impressed him.
I hold it out. He stares, reaches out a trembling hand and takes it from me. Our eyes meet. His shine, and strong emotion fills them with tears.
“You were right, Watson,” he whispers. “You’ve always been right, dear friend.”
I don’t know how, but I have done it. For once, I have handed him the solution to the case.
“Do you see?” He holds the receipt, his long fingers trembling. “It’s outrageous! Six-fifty for a pack of cigarettes! My God! How can I afford this habit?” He sighs. “You’re right, Watson. I must quit smoking.”
Tagging: @elwinglyre @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @lisbeth-kk. @momma2boys @7-percent @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @peanitbear @bertytravelsfar @thetimemoves @copperplatebeech @mydogwatson @thegildedbee
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📣𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐁
AKA: garb, garb-adjacent, I have no time to sew
Pennsic 50 is nearing, and you are frantic trying to get everything together in time, including a wardrobe.
Don’t drive yourself nuts. Cheat.
War garb tends to be very forgiving, considering that groups other than the SCA attend, the weather is notoriously fickle, and you need to stretch what you pack to potentially over two weeks. We *all* cheat. We all include clothing that is not period, but doesn’t scream mundane.
• stick to woven fabrics.
• for your own comfort and sanity, stick to natural fibers. Linen, linen-cotton, thin wool perform best. Cotton works pretty well. Silk, it first has to be real silk, and the type of weight and weave will make a difference how it performs. Ramie, viscose, and rayon will soak up sweat and humidity like a sponge and bring it along with you for the day. Synthetics will look wrong, trap sweat against your body, retain odors; they might be cheap but they really aren’t worth it. Leather looks cool, but it is heavy; save it for accessories and, y’know, armor. Performance fabrics: reserved for your jog around the lake at 6am.
• Stick to simple shapes. Shift dresses, caftans, draw-string waist pants, solid peasant blouses, full skirts all can be tucked in with your garb. Choose colors that compliment your garb for optimal flexibility.
• Look for garments without obvious closures (buttons, zippers), visible pockets, ruffles, modern trim. Lace is difficult, as are prints. Avoid highlighter/neon colors. Sequins and glitter should be avoided; although there were period versions of such bling, modern decoration is made of plastic and looks it. Glass shisha mirrors may be an option if you must sparkle.
• Ethnic clothing, such as tribal dance wear, is usually accepted. You can usually get away with modern ethnic garments, such as kimono and sarees at larger Wars like Pennsic, but wear a real natural fiber one (thrift one?). Real embroidery is good; printed decoration is not.
• Don’t wear Halloween costumes. It will look like a Halloween costume. Most are horrible quality.
• Basic leather belts, plain linen or cotton hankies, nice basic veils, a good straw hat, a period bag, a simple basket, plain shoes/boots/sandals all uplift your outfit.
Some examples of cheater garb below:
Shop: amzn.to/3CvVHp3 I’d order a size up for a roomier fit.
As a shift, or bath house babe!darker colors can be worn over a longer dress.
Shop amzn.to/3CcLQ7f
Wear over or under a skirt. Comes in a few colors, mix & match. Side seam pockets are okay. Buy: amzn.to/3NcViO6
Change out the button for something more period, or a Norse brooch. Wear over skirts or a long dress. amzn.to/3NcMGqL
As an amazon affiliate I may potentially earn commission from items purchased through these links.
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I’ve been reading and writing Mirandy fanfiction for a decade. I had such hope—my god, I live on it—for the The Devil Wears Prada: The Musical. Beth Leavel and Elton John were promising.
I went to see it on July 27th, and the TL;DR is that it was supremely disappointing.
*spoilers below
The biggest disappointment was in Beth’s portrayal of musical!Miranda. I adore Beth and she was great—but the character should not have been named Miranda Priestly. She came across as a much older woman than Meryl’s movie!Miranda. She had red hair, and it was an orangey, dull red. It felt unstyled. She did not dress sexy at all. Her clothing was loose and almost too big for her, and her skirt suits were longer and looked a bit like a 1940s silhouette. At the Ball, she wore a black and red brocade jacquard long dress with a cape, evoking imagery of a devil. She was loud, a little crass, laughed a lot, and made a lot of exaggerated facial expressions. She seemed to lack any sense of femininity and reminded me more of a Jane Lynch character. She said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” to Andrea at one point. And she sang a song about who you have to screw (or maybe it was “step on”) to stay on top. It was totally and completely jarring.
Several pivotal scenes (to me, anyway) were cut. First, there’s no Book or mention of assistants delivering it to her home each night. Because of that, we miss the scene early on where Andrea interrupts a private moment between Miranda and her husband.
Second, there’s no scene with Miranda and her team at a planning meeting, so a sniffly Emily never interrupts and we don’t get the “incubus of viral plague” comment. (Instead, Emily gets dizzy because she’s doing a celery juice cleanse and that’s why Andrea has to attend the Ball. There’s also a random model who walks into Miranda’s office in a floral dress for the sole purpose of triggering the “Florals? For spring?” comment, and it was totally out of context.)
Third, the Ball itself really isn’t shown. There’s no assistants whispering names to Miranda. Andrea wears a bright yellow 1950s A-line party dress to the Ball. The assistants don’t match dresses. And most importantly, we don’t see Miranda as a sex symbol with all that décolleté on view.
Fourth, because there’s no mention of assistants being in Miranda’s home, Miranda asks Andrea to replace Emily at the Ball, and makes her tell her right away. (Emily is hit by a Prius as she’s running out of the Ball towards her Uber.)
Fifth, because it’s set in the 2020s, there’s no Harry Potter manuscript task. Instead, Miranda needs Andrea to get her and her daughter (Cassidy, who’s old enough to travel to Ibiza on her own) to Marrakesh so that YSL can fit her for a custom caftan. Andrea can’t do this because flights are grounded due to a sandstorm in the region, which sets up a “just a little dust” comment from a disappointed Miranda. Andrea’s redemption moment comes later when Miranda tells Andrea that her daughter called to thank her for surprising her and arranging for the YSL person to come to her for the fitting. Miranda tells Andrea she’s surprising.
Finally, at the end, Andrea doesn’t work for a local newspaper, but instead gets hired to write a tell-all book about her time as Miranda’s assistant. And there’s no sighting of Miranda on the street.
Nate is as much a tool in the musical as in the movie, but he’s much more self-aware in the musical. Andrea’s two friends have a realization while she’s in Paris that they shouldn’t punish her for getting to do cool things with her job; she ends up moving in with them when she returns.
The hotel scene is slightly different. Miranda takes her wedding ring off and puts it in the pocket of her robe while she’s on the phone with Cassidy, trying to get her to join her in Paris. She says something like “come on, it’s only a divorce” to her daughter on the phone, and that’s the only mention of it. Andrea walks in, Miranda silently makes a change on the seating chart and hands it back, and when Andrea sees it, she offers to find Miranda “another plus-one.” Where movie!Andrea gives her that sympathetic, heartbreaking look, musical!Andrea gives her a pep talk about how she’ll come out of this just fine because she’s a “force of nature.” (Miranda later tells Andrea that little speech gave her the idea to screw Nigel and give the Holt job to Jacqueline.) Also, in the hotel scene, Miranda asks Andrea to write her speech for the luncheon.
She’s working on the speech when Christian drags her away to his hotel room, then she goes to finish it in his room, and he tells her that Miranda’s being replaced. After the announcement, Andrea is very very pissed Miranda did that to Nigel. But Nigel doesn’t say, “she’ll pay me back”—instead, he yells at Andrea for being clueless as to how the world works.
The car scene from Paris takes place at one of the tables after the luncheon crowd has left. Miranda tells Andrea what a good writer she is, how impressed she is, and tells her to think about what career she wants next because she’s ready for it. After Miranda leaves, Andrea drops her ringing phone into a glass of water on the table and heads back to New York.
Almost all the iconic lines made it into the musical, but they didn’t evoke the same feelings for me. There’s very little Andrea/Emily interaction, although Emily calls her “Andy-for-short” throughout and I thought that was endearing.
Andrea’s makeover wasn’t that dramatic—her clothes pre-makeover were well-fitted and nice, but looked like a prep school uniform. Again, not the same effect.
Nigel was pretty good. He had some new zingers that were fun. He tells Andrea he’s got a husband when he talks about being in the closet before curating the closet, but that was the only queerness really mentioned.
Andrea and Miranda had little time together. Miranda had very few songs—I don’t count her sing-song listing of commands followed by “that’s all” to be a song. The whole point was Andrea’s story, how she came into her own career…and it was honestly boring. I’ll note that Taylor Iman Jones’s understudy performed the night I saw it, but I don’t think TIJ could have saved it.
The songs were kinda catchy, but twelve hours later, I’ve forgotten all of them. The title theme felt more like chamber music—lots of skulls and dark/red imagery, as if Miranda is a devil from hell? It was weird.
They didn’t do a good job of showing the audience who Miranda the Editor really is. I imagine people who didn’t see the movie or read the book might have been lost. Most of the audience seemed to really enjoy it. A lot of older men there with their wives thought it was hilarious. I was cringing for 95% of it.
My honest opinion: save your money; stick to fanfic.
xx
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also *slides a big hefty tip over the bar* melody with band au! dick and Joan like I need more of it
He had a good idea she'd be alone.
Everyone else had hit the town for a night of parties and adoring fans, but Joan was still here in the back of her trailer, long legs folded onto the long bench seat and a burnt orange caftan hanging loose around her shoulders, a notebook in her lap.
She looked up when he knocked on the wall, trying not to startle her. "Mr. Winters. Shouldn't you be out on the town with everyone else?"
"Came to …see how you were doing," he offered, taking a further step inside, hands in his pockets.
Joan scoffed and sat up a little straighter. "How I'm doing? I'm the reigning goddess of rock and roll. What do I care about one stupid groupie who's screwing my boyfriend?"
There she was - the face for the press corps, Joan Warren the Ice Queen, the Goddess on the Hill. Dick almost smiled and pressed on. "But how are you doing?"
She looked at him and her shoulders softened a little, some of the ice queen slipping away. "I think you're the first person to actually want the answer to that question."
Yeah, that tracked. Everyone else would have been worried about the tour and a million other huge things that…really didn't matter. "I'll admit, it's a little self-centered. If we stop the tour I'm out of a job. But I like…like playing with you all. It's a good group. And I just -" he paused. "I hope you're all right. That you're taking care of yourself."
"Thank you, Mr. Winters." She looked genuinely grateful. "And I'm…I'm doing fine."
"You could call me Dick, you know," He offered, with a shrug. "Everyone else does."
"Dick, then." She glanced out the window and down at her notebook. "Stay a while, if you like. You can move those papers, they're not important."
He nodded and took a look at the pile on the bench seat near her - a few papers flew out and fluttered to the floor as he tried to move the stack - faces and eyes, all rendered in stunning detail in pencil. "I don't think I knew you were an artist."
Joan nodded. "That's what I was studying, before we got picked up by the label. Still do it sometimes to help calm down, in between writing songs."
"May I?" She didn't seem to be hiding it, the way people hid things they were ashamed of, so he allowed himself a look, paging through sketch after sketch - people lounging on a lawn, various band members at their instruments. "They're really good." He held one up so she could see it. "This looks exactly like Harry."
She shrugged it off, but there was something in that smile - the same smile she'd done when they'd topped the charts, or sold out a stadium. Pride. Well, why shouldn't she be? The talent was honestly earned. "Harry's easy, I've been drawing him forever. Be a challenge to do someone I don't see every day."
"Do me, then." She looked tenative, and he decided to press his luck. "Rumor has it you like challenges."
She grinned at that, flipping over a page in her sketchbook to a clean sheet and rearranging herself on the couch. "All right, then. Turn towards the window. And sit - no, don't move, just like you were before. Leaning."
He did as he was told, moving his arm to the ledge, tilting his head until she liked his profile. The light back here was soft, a nice compliment to the smell of incense. There were lots of pictures back here, he realized - of Joan and Marj, Joan and Harry, hell, even Joan and Kurt, high up on a wall. Her tribe, he realized. All the people who tell her she's not alone. That she's someone beyond what the producers and the fan mags say.
He realized having her stare at him in silence was getting to him. "So, is it like songwriting? Or -"
"Drawing? No. Song's got…parts to it, melody and lyrics and a bass line. A sketch is - always the whole. You can do a part of it wrong, but - no one can come in and fix your sketch, the way a song can be fixed. A sketch is always your own, and no one else's." She glanced back up at him. "Here, wait, you moved."
She set her pad down and got on her knees to reach forward and turned his face towards her. For a moment her hand lingered on his jaw. He couldn't help himself - he turned his face towards her hand and kissed her fingers. The next thing he knew she was astride his lap kissing him, pushing him back down across the bench seat, her caftan floating around them like a cloud, and his whole body was electric, like he were a guitar she were playing a solo on, her hips rubbing against his jeans. His hands were full of her shoulders, of her back, of her ass, and she was kissing his neck just long enough for him to murmur Joanie.
And just like that, she stopped, and stared down at him, breathing heavily, eyes aflame. "Why are you making this easy?" What do you really want, her eyes asked. Just to say you fucked Joan Warren in her tour van - make another notch on a bedpost somewhere?
He didn't really have an answer, in the moment. There were too many good ones. He settled for the one that made him angriest. "Kurt deserves to be cheated on." He deserves to be dumped, actually, but I know I'm not that big of a prize. Because I like you, and I want you, if I don't deserve you either. "I'm nobody," he said, quietly. "Just a guy with a guitar. Who'd believe me?"
It's nothing, he wanted to say, this is nothing, just two people having fun, but that felt like a lie, and she didn't deserve more of those. You deserve to be happy - to not feel alone. You deserve to be loved.
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Luxury Sparkling Red Ball Gown Quinceanera Dresses 2022 Off the Shoulder Sequined Pageant Gown Long Sweet 16 Dress Vestidos
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Women’s Floral Print Caftan Maxi Dress Size Medium.
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: vtg PHASES Pink Floral Boho Lounge Dress Caftan Beach Muu Muu S EUC.
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWOT Mirror Image CAFTAN Tie Dye MULTI-colored, Sleeves, pockets 100% Polyester.
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Ulla Johnson Agadir Coverup Belted Midi Dress in Citrus M New.
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NATORI Watercolor Maxi Length Caftan.
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Kate Landry Blue Dobby striped woven caftan size l/XL.
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: SOFT SURROUNDINGS Cape Cod Embellished Cotton/Flax Striped Caftan Maxi Dress NWT.
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 9seed Tunisia Short Sleeve Lightweight Gauze Caftan.
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January 1976 - @harpersbazaar
IN THE AIR…..THE MOROCCAN LOOK
LONG & HOODED IN DESERT FLAME RED
A beautiful way to dazzle at night--Albert Capraro's flame-red caftan cut with the new narrowed-down slimness. And on the bodice, an embroidered Moroccan money pocket. In rayon. Ray Strauss scarf. Donna Nineberg for D.N. necklace. Azuma slippers.
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vanity Fair Vintage Hot Pink Robe Caftan Size Small/Medium.
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