Do you ever take something out of your closet that you wear on a regular basis and then one day – BAM! – it hits you like a rock how unfashionable it is? Like a light goes off in your brain and you see the item with eyes anew and you wonder how long ago it became unfashionable. Then you’re mortified for all those times you wore it in the recent past when people must have been clucking in sympathy behind your back.
Because I am in my early thirties I have often wondered if I even know what’s cool anymore. A roommate of mine used to show me a piece of clothing she had just bought and ask me if it was IN, or SO VERY OUT. We’d both scratch our heads, ponder the item and end up none the wiser.
I have never been a real clothes-horse, but I’ve always bought decent stuff. Or so I think. I look at magazines. I watch TV. I look at other humans. I should know what’s passé, right? (Does the fact that I just used my grandma’s word “passé” make me passé? Hm.)
Any clothes shopping I do nowadays is with my baby daughter. As such, unless someone else is with us, I never get to try stuff on. So I’ll buy something and then inevitably return it because my ape arms extend far past the sleeves. Or my bum fails to fill the rear. Or it just looks off and I wonder if it’s just me or is the item making me out to be an older gal attempting a look befitting a teenager? Or, worse, a middle-ager? Sometimes it’s just really hard to tell, you know?
What I should do is always have this one friend of mine with me every time I shop for clothes. This friend (who, back in high school, worked with me at the Pizza Hut where we had to wear high-waisted, tapered slacks as part of our uniform) always wears unique pieces that make her look youthful, but not immature. Although, incidentally, said friend once encouraged me to buy a spring dress from a hip London shop featuring a BUBBLE SKIRT, so, yeah, she’s not always bang-on… But I trust her judgment most of the time.
Even my husband has told me I must get out of my go-to clothing: Lululemons. MY HUSBAND. Who, when we first started dating, had tight, grey, CUFFED sweatpants that were at least three inches too short. And he wore them ALL THE TIME. Which just shows that there must be something terribly awry with my wardrobe. But then, this is the man who consistently complains that I never wear hotpants and knee socks around the house.
I would upload a picture of my latest discovery, but I’m a) embarrassed, and b) not sure the off-ness of the item will translate in a photo. Plus, I need to know that I’m not the only one who’s made this sort of discovery. Am I?