Latest news with #Nicholases
Yahoo
16-07-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Yes, as a mom of 4, I'm tired. But I don't like when strangers point that out.
As a mother of four, I often get unsolicited comments about my family's size while shopping. Now, I have a variety of responses ready to help deflect the remarks that can come off judgmental. It's important to me that I teach my children they don't need to justify their family to others. It all started when we had three kids under the age of five. I'd load up my children in our minivan, get to the grocery store, get one settled in the front seat of the cart, and begin gathering all the items on my list. Inevitably, a few adults, mostly elderly, would stop me to say, "Wow. You've got your hands full," while we were in the store. Usually, their comment wasn't jovial. Rather, their tone was often flat and came across as judgemental. They would also often remark that I looked tired. I would think something along the lines of, Astute observation, Beverly! Of course I am tired. I haven't slept through the night in over a year since the new baby arrived! Frankly, their evaluation of my family wasn't really my concern, but I was annoyed that they chose to interrupt my shopping while I was clearly also trying to appease my children. I would sometimes reply, as cheesy as possible, "Hands full, heart full!" I may have even thrown in a wink or a shoulder shimmy before returning to getting the bag of apples out of my toddler's hands. Sometimes I would say to the person commenting how tired I must be, "Yup! Iced coffee is my best friend!" And now that we have four kids, "Oh, yes! We actually don't think we have enough family members, so we also decided to bring in two rescue dogs! Want to see a picture?" This turns the situation back on them. They look ridiculous being intrusive and rude, and I'm meeting their curiosity with my next point, confidence. One of my go-to lines to share with any person who seems dead-set on giving me their unsolicited advice or opinion on our family is to confidently respond with, "We love our family!" or "We're ok with our choices." They always seem to have a hard time arguing with an "we" statement of ownership and confidence. What can they really say? I realize that a lot of strangers may speak from their own experiences, oftentimes their pain. Maybe they were part of a big family and that overwhelmed them or meant they didn't get enough parental attention and support. Maybe they always wanted siblings but never had them, having the immense pressure of being an only child. Perhaps they wanted to be parents themselves, even parents to many kids, and this never manifested. Sometimes I try to be empathetic to the unspoken. This can be done by a simple, "Yes, we do have our hands full!" This shows we listened to what they had to share, but we chose not to take it personally. Now that my kids are older, we don't let the Negative Nancies (or Nicholases) bother us. The comments have also lessened, likely because an adult is more likely to realize that my kids can hear them and understand what's being said. Perhaps this causes the some to think twice before issuing a verdict based on their personal opinions. We've used these moments to show our kids that they don't have to explain themselves or justify their family to anyone. They also have the power to respond as they see fit. Read the original article on Business Insider
Business Insider
16-07-2025
- General
- Business Insider
Yes, as a mom of 4, I'm tired. But I don't like when strangers point that out.
As a mother of four, I often get unsolicited comments about my family's size while shopping. Now, I have a variety of responses ready to help deflect the remarks that can come off judgmental. It's important to me that I teach my children they don't need to justify their family to others. It all started when we had three kids under the age of five. I'd load up my children in our minivan, get to the grocery store, get one settled in the front seat of the cart, and begin gathering all the items on my list. Inevitably, a few adults, mostly elderly, would stop me to say, "Wow. You've got your hands full," while we were in the store. Usually, their comment wasn't jovial. Rather, their tone was often flat and came across as judgemental. They would also often remark that I looked tired. I would think something along the lines of, Astute observation, Beverly! Of course I am tired. I haven't slept through the night in over a year since the new baby arrived! Meet them with corny responses Frankly, their evaluation of my family wasn't really my concern, but I was annoyed that they chose to interrupt my shopping while I was clearly also trying to appease my children. I would sometimes reply, as cheesy as possible, "Hands full, heart full!" I may have even thrown in a wink or a shoulder shimmy before returning to getting the bag of apples out of my toddler's hands. Meet them with humor Sometimes I would say to the person commenting how tired I must be, "Yup! Iced coffee is my best friend!" And now that we have four kids, "Oh, yes! We actually don't think we have enough family members, so we also decided to bring in two rescue dogs! Want to see a picture?" This turns the situation back on them. They look ridiculous being intrusive and rude, and I'm meeting their curiosity with my next point, confidence. Meet them with confidence One of my go-to lines to share with any person who seems dead-set on giving me their unsolicited advice or opinion on our family is to confidently respond with, "We love our family!" or "We're ok with our choices." They always seem to have a hard time arguing with an "we" statement of ownership and confidence. What can they really say? Meet them with empathy I realize that a lot of strangers may speak from their own experiences, oftentimes their pain. Maybe they were part of a big family and that overwhelmed them or meant they didn't get enough parental attention and support. Maybe they always wanted siblings but never had them, having the immense pressure of being an only child. Perhaps they wanted to be parents themselves, even parents to many kids, and this never manifested. Sometimes I try to be empathetic to the unspoken. This can be done by a simple, "Yes, we do have our hands full!" This shows we listened to what they had to share, but we chose not to take it personally. Our family is just right for us Now that my kids are older, we don't let the Negative Nancies (or Nicholases) bother us. The comments have also lessened, likely because an adult is more likely to realize that my kids can hear them and understand what's being said. Perhaps this causes the some to think twice before issuing a verdict based on their personal opinions. We've used these moments to show our kids that they don't have to explain themselves or justify their family to anyone. They also have the power to respond as they see fit.
New York Times
13-02-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Fashion Is a Serious Business. Once a Year, It Makes Time for Ridiculousness.
Of all the unexpected gifts this job has given me, perhaps the greatest one is the opportunity to be a visitor in the worlds of design and fashion. Anyone who has been allowed entree into a realm they never knew well (but were always curious to know better) understands that much of the fun of that introduction is learning about the culture of the place — the rituals and traditions that members of that tribe have long since ceased to find extraordinary. For example: Last year, I was talking to a dear friend, a fashion designer in Paris. 'What are you doing?' I asked. 'I have to finish the hats for the Catherinettes,' he said, so matter-of-factly that, for a moment, I wondered if my inability to decipher what he was saying was actually a sign of my ignorance. 'I have no idea what you're talking about,' I said. It turns out that, every November, most of the French fashion houses participate in the St. Catherine's Day festival. St. Catherine is the patron saint of, among other special interest groups, single women and, back in the 1940s and '50s, the day was celebrated by 25-year-old female couture assistants putting on whimsical or outlandish hats and wandering the streets of Paris, announcing to one and all that they were looking for a husband. Today, some things about that tradition have changed or been updated — men, called Nicholases, are now included; no participant can be older than 25 (men used to become Nicholases only when they turned 30); the Catherinettes and Nicholases can come from any kind of fashion house, not only those that make couture, and don't have to work in the design ateliers — but it endures. There are still extravagant hats, many designed by the maisons' artistic directors, typically in yellow and green, the colors associated with St. Catherine (no one can agree on why). The honorees, usually among the lowest-ranked, newest members of the houses, still get the afternoon off. (Dior even throws their employees a ball.) Of course, being 25 in 2025 isn't the same as being 25 in 1955. Many of these employees aren't looking for spouses — now, or maybe ever. But St. Catherine's Day is a reminder that even the most serious businesses — and fashion is serious, despite some appearances to the contrary; some might even call it self-serious — make time for silliness. And not just silliness but sentiment. The French are rightly proud of the influence and power their fashion still carries on the global stage; this celebration is as much one of the next generation as it is of the industry itself. It's also a reminder that what makes any closed-door artistic community special is the peculiarities that it has cultivated over the decades. 'Oh, how wonderful!' said one New York stage manager I told about the Catherinettes; at the time, we were working on a piece about the traditions of Broadway theaters. 'I never knew that.' She'd just finished telling me about some of her world's rites; she was tickled to hear about someone else's. Who knows? Maybe your business isn't as boring as you think. Maybe it's actually deeply weird — and you're the only one who doesn't know it.
New York Times
13-02-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Inside Fashion's Mysterious Silly Hat Festival
Every year on or around the 25th of November, the French fashion industry hosts a kind of runway show just for itself. Wearing mostly green-and-yellow hats — the color combination is said to represent either family and hope or faith and wisdom, depending on which milliner you ask — young people from the Parisian luxury houses gather at City Hall to celebrate St. Catherine's Day, a Catholic holiday dating to the Middle Ages that was first observed by the couture industry in the late 19th century. Historically, the Catherinettes, as they're known — single women, each 25 years old and working in one of the city's then-dozens of haute couture ateliers — were granted a rare opportunity to meet their bosses before getting the rest of the day off to enjoy street parties, all while wearing opulent, often garish hats that were sometimes personalized to represent their individual skills or interests, or at least their house's codes. (In the late 1940s, Schiaparelli's Catherinettes wore oversize versions of the designer Elsa Schiaparelli's surreal fragrance bottles in the shape of suns and candlesticks.) Though only midway through their 20s, the Catherinettes were already considered spinsters, and their hats sent a clear message: 'I'm available,' says Sophie Kurkdjian, an assistant professor of fashion history at the American University of Paris. 'And I'm looking for a husband.' She likens the tradition to Tinder for the petites mains, or 'little hands,' as the generally anonymous artisans responsible for sewing and embroidering the world's most exquisite gowns are known. The Catherinettes' patron saint is Catherine of Alexandria, a skilled debater who died in the fourth century and who, according to legend, converted pagan scholars to Christianity and refused to wed a Roman emperor. (She's also believed to watch over scholars and students.) More than a mating ritual, though — one that was practiced across France long before it was adopted by the fashion industry — St. Catherine's Day was also a 'bonding experience,' says Pamela Golbin, formerly the chief curator of fashion and textiles at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs. 'Today it would be considered a team-building exercise.' Men from the houses eventually adopted a parallel tradition in honor of St. Nicholas, another patron saint of many, including those looking to wed, who once purportedly paid the dowries for three unmarried sisters by secretly tossing gold into their father's home. They celebrated on St. Nicholas's feast day, Dec. 6, and enjoyed five additional years of shame-free singledom, becoming Nicholases at 30. Two years ago, the Fédération de la Haute Couture et de la Mode, the governing body of Paris Fashion Week, which had long heard complaints about the holiday's 'antifeminism,' decided that participants no longer had to be unmarried, says its executive president, Pascal Morand. It also lowered the age for Nicholases to 25. The rule change affected people like Victor Weinsanto, a 30-year-old French designer who started his own label in 2020 and has now missed his opportunity to be feted as a Nicholas. He had appreciated the tradition since his internship at Chloé, where he'd watched Catherinettes receive handbags with their hats. (Along with the hats, which participants can keep, many houses provide additional gifts: Balenciaga, for example, offers full outfits.) Nevertheless, Weinsanto still relishes the spectacle from a distance. 'It's a moment where you can have some freedom about taste,' he says, recalling the large feathered hats worn last November by employees of Hermès, a brand not especially known for its flamboyance. At City Hall, the participants — about 400, many dressed in black, representing 17 houses as well as the federation itself — modeled their colorful hats in a private fashion show, with each brand having chosen its own music. (Hermès opted for Sabrina Carpenter's 'Espresso'; Patou went with a Lil Wayne song.) For a competitive industry that generally takes itself quite seriously, the event is a goofy anomaly and rare moment of unity. And yet the ceremony isn't without a bit of good-natured one-upmanship: The Catherinettes' hats are often designed by the house's creative director, but some revelers at City Hall had added personal touches; an employee of the millinery Maison Michel affixed a wooden stake to theirs to reflect their passion for the TV series 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer.' Others attached rhinestones or felt Chanel logos to their hats, the same way American college students might customize their graduation caps. The Catherinettes and Nicholases, who now both celebrate in November, no longer come from only the world of couture, which means that employees from any of the 100 or so houses in the federation can participate. (These days, only 14 of those maisons still make haute couture: custom garments produced entirely by hand and requiring at least four full-time tailors and seamstresses.) Nor must they make clothes at all. Among Balenciaga's 23 participants last year, there were employees from its retail stores and corporate departments. (The brand, known for its subversion and streetwear, dressed its staff in black baseball caps designed by its creative director, Demna, with green and yellow on the brims.) Delphine Bellini, the chief executive of Schiaparelli, sees it as a moment to 'pass the baton between the senior experts and the young talents,' and an opportunity to impress upon the company's next generation the importance of craftsmanship. 'I have to admit that I'd rather represent the modern interpretations of the tradition than the old ones,' says Emma Spreckley, a press assistant and recent Catherinette at Dior, which had 68 celebrants in 2024. Each year on a Friday around the holiday, the house throws a lavish ball for its team — not just any corporate office gathering but an extravagant cocktail party attended by its creative directors, along with Delphine Arnault, the chief executive of Dior fashion, and her father, Bernard Arnault, the chief executive of Dior's parent company, LVMH. (Everyone at Dior gets the following Monday off.) 'It's our most important meeting of the year,' says the British milliner Stephen Jones, who learned about the Catherinettes when he was hired at Dior in 1996. He acknowledges some mystery around the tradition — outside New Orleans, which hosts a small neighborhood hat parade to acknowledge St. Catherine's Day, the celebration is unfamiliar to most Americans, even those who work in fashion. Multiple houses and designers were reluctant to say too much about the custom — almost as if it were a secret. 'Some things are meant to be kept private,' Jones says. 'When you buy a Dior haute couture dress, what are you buying? You're buying a dress, but you're also buying privacy — something that's just for you, not anybody else.' To him, the event is about the pride fashion takes in its artisans: The hats he designed for this year's event, inspired by the brand's resort 2025 collection, were made by the Scottish knitwear manufacturer Robert Mackie. 'In the United States, they celebrate sports heroes or military heroes,' says Jones. 'In France, they celebrate dressmaking and fashion design.'
