Five Fashion Crimes of the 65+ Set At My Local Mall: Important Reminders for My Future Self

I don't know what happens to some people when they get to a certain age, but it seems that showing any sign of creativity when it comes to fashion slips into the past.

I don't mean to go around insulting older people. It's just that when the Palinode and I packed to move into a new apartment a week ago, I noticed a disturbing trend slowly ebbing into my own wardrobe that is usually found in the clothing of the older women I frequently see walking through a local mall. A lot of my clothing was gravitating toward somewhat dowdy, pale shades of earth tones, as though I were trying to camouflage myself against a boring sofa.

It was a terrifying realization. How could I be falling victim to such tragic fashion tedium at the less-than-elderly age of thirty-seven? I boxed up the offending items and got rid of them. Every since, I've been working on a mental list of fashion crimes I am going to avoid until death:
  1. My outfits will never be uniformly beige, floral patterned, or of pale Easter colours. If dressing up as hospital hallways were a Halloween costume, then it's Halloween every day for the woman who wears them.
  2. Beige shoes don't really go with everything, even if your orthopedist says they do. They do complete the hospital hallway Halloween outfit quite effectively, though.
  3. Matching red earrings to a red necklace to red nailpolish to red socks is far too matchy-matchy, and it doesn't perk up an outfit nearly the way some people think it does. Doing anything head-to-toe actually lends to the whole uniformity thing mentioned in number one.
  4. I will not ever wear my pants hemmed so short that they barely graze the tops of my shoes. If this, for some reason, becomes physically impossible, then I will wear skirts.
  5. Loose-fitting jeans with elastic waists are the devil. They make one's butt look like a hobo's bindle. If my expanding waist makes real jeans too uncomfortable, then I will forego wearing them altogether. Amen.
I'm not religious, but I would be lying if I said that I didn't just have the urge to cross myself. When weeding through my wardrobe during our move turned out to be too much like an episode of What Not to Wear, I was pretty much scared more interesting.

Things I Love to Do That Fill Me With Joy and/or Grace

My Smart History: Pluto, Plato, and a Word Misheard