Setting aside the title of this post for a minute — which we will get to — this is another edition of These Old Clothes.
Here are my trusty, mid-weight white cotton pants and a cotton blouse that combines gauze (bodice), voile (sleeves and peplum), and poplin (lining) in the softest, most refreshing shade of orange.
The shade of orange sherbert. Or is it sherbet?
When I looked up the spelling of sherbert, I discovered that the primary spelling is sherbet and that sherbert is a secondary spelling which depending on who you ask is legitimate or yet another sad acquiescence in our steady cultural descent toward the lowest common denominator. Tant pis!
I just assumed that sherbert was another New England curiosity — a regional pronunciation (the curiously placed and dropped Rs) or part of the region’s distinct ice cream lexicon (like jimmies and frappes).
Some people on the Internet are really fired up about this — when their efforts would clearly be better spent on achieving universal subject-verb agreement on the World Wide Web. Or preventing the spread of TextSpellingGrammar. Harumph!
But tell me, Dear Readers, where were you raised and what do you call it?
Back to the easy living of summertime.
This blouse doesn’t need a belt, but I’ve added one for additional definition. A thin line of black against the orange does not read Halloween.
The blouse isn’t tight, but for some reason the placket will not lay flat at my waist. This is a micro-job for Fatima — adding an invisible snap right there.
I am not certain that this adjustment will be made in 2019.
I have more urgent tasks to complete between now and Labor Day, like retrieving my sandals from storage and training Philo to behave more like a Ragdoll.
Blouse: Moncollet; Pants and belt: JCrew; Sandals: Skechers; Bag: Sophie Hulme
You know where I stand on sherbert. My iPhone just tried to autocorrect it to sherbet – twice. I will not be bullied into that by Apple or anyone else. It is the perfect sherBERT-colored blouse. South Shore of MA is my proud place of origin and sherbert spelling, as you know!
Gelato. Orange OR mango gelato or perhaps apricot?
Or sorbet. But in Tasmania, Australia, neither sherbet nor sherbert.
In the Maryland suburbs of DC I learned to call it sherbert.
Since “sherbet” comes from the Persian and Arabic forms “sharbat,” and since I married into a family where the Persian, Arabic, and Urdu forms of this term prevail, I have to come down against “sherbert,” which seems like a distortion to my ears. I agree it’s much easier/more natural for English speakers to say “sherbert” than “sherbet” but it still sounds incorrect to me. When you’ve heard Arabs, Persians, and South Asians say “sharbat” enough, “sherbert” sounds weird.
I’ve been calling it “sherbert-sherbet” in a breathy stammer for so long I just don’t remember which was the original I learned. After all, I was raised in Chevy Chase, Washington, then moved to New England for college and beyond. I’m guessing sherbert, since that’s what I stammer first.
And now, technically, I do not live in New England, although I identify with that mental state, and people around here in upstate New York, they just don’t call it at all. Maybe sorbet. Maybe sherbet. But, really, we’re much more interested in cashew milk “ice cream” in this household.
You look adorable in that outfit. Very flattering pants.
Namby pamby. That’s what I call sherbert. I pronounce it with two Rs, thanks to my eastern North Carolina upbringing. As a child (and beyond), the appearance of sherbeRt where ice cream might reasonably have been expected was always a disappointment. And one not at all mitigated by sherbeRt’s pleasing colors. I was blind to it enticement and refused to be mollified. SherbeRt. Pffft! Namby pamby. What my husband in his Indiana-ness might call a weak teabag of a thing. Though I believe he quite likes sherbeRt. Not on my watch!
The blouse is charming in both design and color.
Philo will be Philo. He will enjoy your best efforts.
Sherbert? Sherbet? A sure bet either way. Sure, but ….
Whatever folks from wherever are calling it, I am gobbling far too much of it this week. The container from which I am extracting this yummy orange sherbert labels the product as ‘sherbet’. All I can say is that although it tastes good it is definitely not good for me as it contains far too much sugar and corn syrup.
Love the summer outfit.
I have yummy watermelon sherbet in the freezer. Which must be rationed as it’s a limited edition flavor for the month of July only.
Did you mean Philo willstart training you? I’m sure that’s how it will work.
I agree with David, the outfit is a sure bet either way. But does the blouse really need a trip to Fatima’s? Its charming as it is — I like it when clothing doesn’t fit “perfectly.”
From the shores of Lake Superior in lovely Minnesota, we say “SherbeRt.” This word, however, may lend itself to a French pronunciation? Excellent pleated peplum by the way!
Sherbet/Sherbet is a word I’d kind of forgotten about. I’m from Southern Ontario (Canada) and I’m pretty sure it was called sherbeRt in my neck of the woods. I can remember being confused the first time I heard sherbet used instead. Regardless, it wasn’t something I had often growing up and I think I thought it referred to fruit-flavoured ice cream as opposed to a non-dairy fruit-flavoured treat. At some point in young adulthood I started saying sorbet, and never really looked back.
Sorbet… From British Colombia.