my match, my lighter, the flame for the cigarette i haven’t smoked in over a year.
elephant bells + headwrap + flip flops + rabid dog + patchwork skirt + zinc face paint + somewhere in thailand = my dream womb
dreadlocks + fanny pack + dress over jeans + frayed old scarf + camel = the undead hippie heart
dearest hands behind the amazing, please hire me.
your world is my world.
we speak the same tangent.
because tina turner in a leather mini and jean jacket rekindles the days of living on 13th street and walking down the train tracks with the best friend and his feral dog.
big hair forever
i was the editor of my high school yearbook. go figure.
on those long nights before deadline, ian and his bunnymen kept me company in the darkroom as i developed black and white pictures of the prom king and queen.
fifteen years later, echo and the bunnymen still make perfect background music, especially on those moody creative days when inspiration flows like sweat.
anyway, have you listened to the killing moon lately? you should.
also, one more thing that used to perplex my goth days:
what kind of eyeliner do you think siouxsie sue wore?
(floria sigismondi who does over 30 colored tights nicely)
i’ve been sitting on my anger for almost a week now. i came across this post about how women over 30 shouldn’t wear colored tights. so in discussing this with a gal pal, she suggested that i purge and set the frustration free.
so here goes. it begins with an interesting sidekick to ageism:
Jeunism is the tendency to prefer young people over older people. This includes political candidacies, commercial functions, and cultural settings where the supposed greater vitality and/or physical beauty of youth is more appreciated than the supposed greater moral and/or intellectual rigor of adulthood.
having spent several years faithfully reading fashion blogs and the viewpoints of other fashion gals who are nearly 10 years younger than me i’ve come to the conclusion that because i’m 33 i’m ancient, a dinosaur, a fire breathing anklyosaurus with a penchant for making one faux pas mistake after the another.
but do i care?
a quirky fashion sense has saved me from several premature suicides. disco inferno outfits detered ruthless catty remarks said behind the back during those teenage years (after all, if they were going to chop me down let it begin with platform shoes and a gold lame party dress!). being a fashion outcast opened the world up to a cast of characters who lived on the outskirts of town, the ones who screamed “let it be tacky, or nothing at all!”
so yeah, our clothes were tacky. we mismatched. we raved. we listened to depeche mode as we drove around town in a 1967 VW bug. some of us did grunge better than courtney love. others coined the mod look, which later became a hot topics’ “goth” thing. and boho chic? we were doing it in 1993.
so do i take offense when a youngster tries to tell us wise old fashion vertebrates what we should or shouldn’t wear? Hell yes! we were the ones who started the trends you are now biting, the neon color combinations that make you look so street cool, and “hey dj girl with the high waisted acid washed jeans, vest and debbie gibson hat” your high fashion look wasn’t dreamed up yesterday.
you see, we were puffy painting and wearing colored tights long before you were ever born. and after 20 years of experience, we know a thing or two about layering socks with doc martens, pairing leopard print footless tights with a jean miniskirt, and better yet, how to wear striped stockings with a floral print dress. in fact, i’m convinced a tacky minstrel from my youth is the she-man behind the curtain churning out these regurgitated trends you are now coveting.
so in conclusion to my very indulgent, therapeutic fashion rant, i invite all 30, 40, 50 and 60 year olds to go hog wild and dress in all the glitter, mismatched splendor and colored tights that your heart desires.
we love life on the other side of the railroad track and always welcome the company.
Cathy Horyn described it as
she’s probably right. in fact, I see what she’s saying. but, wouldn’t it be more fun if someone described Galliano’s latest stint as a tribute to the days of shopping at value village pre-ebay?
those were the days!
an endless heap of gold lame, sherbet colored taffeta, 1960s prom dresses, silk tunics and pantsuits with intricate beading and paisley trim. all for under $5.00!
it was a time when thrifting and wearing vintage was a huge faux pas. a secret uncovered and embraced by the very few: an awkward youth, a drama geek, an ecentric or an outcast who couldn’t afford gucci and guess labels, who were awful at layering colored tshirts with matching socks and keds.
somehow, molly ringwald’s character from pretty in pink spoke to us.
several years later, lady miss kier came along.
and suddenly we wore beehives and flips.
and our closets were packed with platforms and paisley pucci print dresses
and, of course, the thicker the eyeliner the better the cat eye.
so, in my head (at least for today) galliano’s latest journey is a time warp into my high school closet and a reminder of lady miss who inspired the groovy looks we used to wear to the raves downtown.
(deelite and lady miss kier photos from here).