The Most Feminine Thing About Me Is Not The Clothes On My Back

A few weeks ago, I thought about doing a clothes swap with a few girlfriends. Ladies, if you’ve never done this, pay attention: it’s a great way to spruce up your wardrobe and clean out your closets! Bring whatever you don’t want and share with others.  Left overs go to charity.

That suit you never wear? That purse you never clutch? Those jeans that no longer fit? That blouse you loved but only wore once? Those earrings that were so last year? Bring it all and let it go. And take home a bounty.

Sure, it’s a first world problem to have that much sartorial abundance. But in sharing what we no longer want, we also create more abundance of the heart currency kind.

It’s also a great way to connect -- wine, women, conversation and even an impromptu yoga class, where I individually taught each gal downward dog. And that’s a bit ironic, because my first experience of a “clothes swap” happened years ago while I was training to become a yoga teacher.

We laughed. We cried. We hugged. We talked about everything under the sun, including, of course, sex, penises, vaginas, relationships and all those wonderful thoughts women concoct on an absolutely wonderful “girls night in.”

We thought we were going to make it to the Wynwood Art Walk. But I knew better. I knew that this was a work of art in a social sense.

We gathered together from all walks of life, all ages, giving away cloaks we no longer wanted but that would bring a smile to another’s face and most importantly, sharing part of ourselves while shedding old things – things that we are attached to but that no longer serve us.

One new friend was shy about receiving lavish cast offs. "Why?" I replied. "Go. Take it. Give it love." We were all paying it forward.

My friend N, who generously hosted the evening in her beautiful loft studio near downtown Miami -- and, who incidentally is owned by a feline who took great offense to her practicing “downward dog” on the mat -- came up with a brilliant idea in response to a male-centric post on Upworthy entitled 6 Guys Challenging Decades of Stereotypes Using Only A Whiteboard and a Marker.

The challenge was to find something not so much gender-specific, but heartfelt. We did it, too. We asked ourselves: “What is the most feminine/womanly thing about me? But what also feels masculine?”

The results were interesting!


• I Catch 200 Pound Sharks and Wear Victoria's Secret Bras
• I'm Ballsy
• Courage to Move Into Unknown
• Nerdy Academic
• Magic
• Multi-Tasking
• Loving
• Art of Persuasion
• Obsessive Devotion

Over some laughs, it occurred to me that UPWORTHY was not quite SPONGEWORTHY. Because many of us that night had a tale to tell about a man who wasn’t and a man who was.

 (If you're not of the Seinfeld generation, please click here.)

THE CLOTHES SWAP


It doesn’t matter if your pants are too small or too big for the next woman. What does matter that you share from the heart with your beloved friends. Me? I left with a couple of shirts, a cool velvet brown cap, some lovely hoop earrings and some really awesome yoga pants that I needed to upgrade my typical caregiver schmatte wardrobe.

My friends are a bit smaller in bodily size, but their hearts are enormously, fabulously beautiful. My heart swelled larger and was more blessed for the company – the clothes make the man but the heart makes the person – no matter what fabric covers your body.

And no seamstress, no bespoke tailor in the world can stitch up these things that money can't buy.

If you’re in the Miami, consider doing a similar event and donating whatever is left over to Lotus House or Dress for Success. And if you’ve got seriously luxe items, check out Fashionably Conscious.

Dogs Are a Woman’s Best Friend

The ficus at the Kampong. 

Yesterday, I drove through one of my favorite areas of Coral Gables, delivering leftovers from a delicious saffron-infused seafood paella I had made over the weekend. First stop, my parents -- for whom I’m still caregiving -- and second stop, my sister's home.

I always take this detour to admire an amazing banyan tree. There are glorious banyans all over this tropical and lush section of Coral Gables, but this one in particular is like the Taj Majal of banyans – competing locally for that title only with other extraordinary Ficus benghalensis growing locally at Pinecrest Gardens, Pine Tree Park in Miami Beach, The Kampong in Coconut Grove and the Edison Estate on the gulf coast.

While driving, I saw a dog in the middle of the road, a rather dangerous place to be, as cars coming around the corner can’t see oncoming traffic right away. Drivers should steer cautiously here.



I’ve driven through this bend hundreds of times, but I had never seen this dog.

The scruffy, silver-haired dog was small, looking a bit worse for wear. I noticed a collar and I followed it to a dead end street, thinking it might be lost and that I would help return it to its rightful owner.

Or I rather like to think she led me to the dead end street.

As I got out of the car, she plopped down next to a bowl of water and some dog biscuits. And then the furry creature barked viciously at me.  “Uh-oh,” I thought. "Here’s an alpha dog protecting her property."

“Ok, sweetheart,” I said out loud. “I was just trying to see if you were ok.”

Within seconds, a wizened woman came out of the house. With whiskers on her chin and grey hair wrapped up in a ponytail, she reminded me of fairy tales, where I might meet an old crone in a forest of mossed-draped oaks, acorns, saw grass palms and magical banyans.

But despite her age, she was also in remarkable shape.  She had clearly been an athlete and a bombshell, to boot.

We chatted for about half an hour. A few minutes into conversation, the dog sniffed around my feet and licked my toes.  And the previously aggressive canine seemed to tell me, “Ok, you’re cool, you’re allowed here.” Then the four-legged guardian pawed a little area in the dirt and took a nap.

Was it new friends meeting or old friends meeting anew?

I would hear an incredible tale from this woman about how she used to live in Hawaii, not far from where my brother currently resides. What are the odds? She told me about how she won competitions in surfing and outrigger canoeing, the former a sport my brother practices. She was even a stuntwoman in film.  We discussed Kaneohe, the North Shore, the current economic state of Honolulu, shaved ice and Kahuku shrimp, double rainbows and mai tais.  We were both transported, she perhaps to another time, when it was all about marriage and kids.  Me, just an amazing vacation I had been blessed with when visiting my brother and sister-in-law.



I felt the aloha spirit, right here in Miami, where you least expect it -- a random moment in an afternoon filled with kindness, compassion, harmony, the breath of life -- all because of a dog and a tree.

I saw that aloha spirit in this widowed grandmother, in that wrinkled, toothless face.  I saw it in some of the most beautiful, lively blue eyes I have ever seen, beaming vitality.  I saw myself in her.  “Will I be like this when I’m in my eighties, forty years from now?” I asked silently.

It was challenging to let go of the conversation, but I had to leave. I asked her name even though I wasn’t sure if I would ever see her again. I knew I had made a new friend, all because of a scruffy dog who seemed to be wandering around aimlessly, but like a barking oracle, clearly had a purpose.

Maybe I was lost and it was guiding me.

Perhaps the trees really are magical in this enchanted forest.

And now this banyan means even more to me.