Because I read a lot of fashion blogs, I feel obligated to write something about the New York Fashion Week that just ended. Did I attend? Look through some images? Follow a designer?
Uh, no. I traditionally get my info from the magazines, which obviously do not have the immediacy of the internet (but do have the advantage of presenting the info at a more seasonally appropriate time). I know traditions make me an old lady. I know paper is super old-school.
My mother and use to pore through the catalogs and magazines on a regular basis when I was a child. I was the college student with a Vogue hidden in her notebook during the boring general ed lecture halls. I once subscribed to 5 different fashion magazines. I had a 2nd job just to all the spend money at TJ Maxx, in case some real designer clothing would actually end up there that was miraculously in my mid-western size and discount price range.
Sunday, I went to Target and since it was the first day the collection was out, and the display wasn't even entirely complete thereby alerting the college girls to its existence, I bought myself this Phillip Lim Target collection sweatshirt:
Although I've never had the means to participate in fashion, I've always tried to follow along. But I see a change in the terrain that scares me. It's the unholy combination of my age, new technologies, and cropped tops.
Yes, I said crop tops. Obviously, as a woman over 40, I would not be expected to do that. But I remember what it means (oh, the 90s had some mixed blessings), and I can't go through that again. It means that EVERY shirt will be too short, for a long time. And that means that we will be unable to slouch, or stand up straight, with a stray belly roll hanging out somewhere. It means that bottoms will be impossible to buy off the rack again, since we will need high-waisted things, which have to fit perfectly in so many more places than the low-waisted, which can just hang off your hips.
It means that I am old. I have seen this trend before.
It also means I can no longer follow the trends. I have to know what I like, and wear it well. I have to grow up and be a stylish person, as a opposed to a fashion person. Ouch.
And because David McRaney and I have perfected the mind meld (or perhaps because I'm reading his book right now and coincidence), he posted this awesome video emphasizing my point here. Or, I'm emphasizing his. Whatever.
Uh, no. I traditionally get my info from the magazines, which obviously do not have the immediacy of the internet (but do have the advantage of presenting the info at a more seasonally appropriate time). I know traditions make me an old lady. I know paper is super old-school.
My mother and use to pore through the catalogs and magazines on a regular basis when I was a child. I was the college student with a Vogue hidden in her notebook during the boring general ed lecture halls. I once subscribed to 5 different fashion magazines. I had a 2nd job just to all the spend money at TJ Maxx, in case some real designer clothing would actually end up there that was miraculously in my mid-western size and discount price range.
Sunday, I went to Target and since it was the first day the collection was out, and the display wasn't even entirely complete thereby alerting the college girls to its existence, I bought myself this Phillip Lim Target collection sweatshirt:
 |
| Jessica Alba at a Vogue party, in my sweatshirt. |
Although I've never had the means to participate in fashion, I've always tried to follow along. But I see a change in the terrain that scares me. It's the unholy combination of my age, new technologies, and cropped tops.
Yes, I said crop tops. Obviously, as a woman over 40, I would not be expected to do that. But I remember what it means (oh, the 90s had some mixed blessings), and I can't go through that again. It means that EVERY shirt will be too short, for a long time. And that means that we will be unable to slouch, or stand up straight, with a stray belly roll hanging out somewhere. It means that bottoms will be impossible to buy off the rack again, since we will need high-waisted things, which have to fit perfectly in so many more places than the low-waisted, which can just hang off your hips.
It means that I am old. I have seen this trend before.
It also means I can no longer follow the trends. I have to know what I like, and wear it well. I have to grow up and be a stylish person, as a opposed to a fashion person. Ouch.
And because David McRaney and I have perfected the mind meld (or perhaps because I'm reading his book right now and coincidence), he posted this awesome video emphasizing my point here. Or, I'm emphasizing his. Whatever.
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