I am twenty,
drifting in la chalupa,
the blue boat painted with roses,
where do you find these?
“I was in a queer mood, thinking myself very old; but now I am a woman again – as I always am when I write.”
i think this post has something to do with this muxtape.
over the weekend, i took bella to a few of my old high school haunts. we loaded the cart with dresses, purses and a pair of ratty old cut-off levis. the thrift stores remained unchanged, almost identical to the way it was back in the day when the best pal and I used to wander through the aisles picking outfits for our weekly Maryvale high school fashion parade.
…that was 17 years ago.
i can’t believe it.
this is what happens when you major in english.
i’m bewildered by the latest dose of street fashion. never in the history of geekdom have we been regarded as chic; unless, of course, when gals like claire standish decide they want to help a lost cause.
don’t get me wrong the dork girl with her unstyled hair, ragamuffin outfits and oversize glasses will always be the star of my saturday book club meetings.
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I’m no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind’s hand.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat’s. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons
(morning song by sylvia plath)
we’ll always harbor a love for women who wear turbans in public. in this instance, mari goes where we could never go by pairing her turban with geeky-girl eyeglasses.
besides, anyone who associates prada with granny gear is A+ in our tatty spiral bound notebook!
“All my clothes are second hand. I’ve modified the dress a bit. People call me a granny because I always wear old clothes. Nevertheless I dream of Prada and Miu Miu.
Lately I’ve been inspired by old Marimekko fashion pictures from the 60’s and the 70’s.”
(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.