Fashion vanilla my flavor March 1, 2014 • Joyce Ore
Spring is in the air and I’m inclined to browse, but the things I like or understand no longer are available. The world has moved ahead and left me feeling like the little kid holding a plain vanilla cone while his friends are at the yogurt bars choosing from a variety of creamy confections and topping them with dozens of toppings, many unfamiliar.
Nothing makes me feel more left behind than standing in a clothing shop seeing a display of wearing apparel that contains less material than the unmentionables in my bureau drawer. After considering this situation for a brief time, I came to the conclusion that I probably have more to consider now than I did more than a few years back and many of today’s clothes barely covers those concerns.
There is the neckline that needs to cover a less than smooth neck, a sleeve that hides baggy forearms and covering a length that adequately camouflages thickening calves and other body parts heading south. That which is in the middle also is of concern since today’s designers once again are thrilled with the idea of a waist, which I lost sometime around the birth of our third child.
I’ve discovered polyester is often less than comfortable, but also am of the generation freed from the iron and who doesn’t plan to return. We love the feel of cotton, but while we don’t want to iron, we cling to the values taught to us by our mothers and can’t quite come to the terms of the wrinkled look. Frugal by nature, we look at the labels and cringe if it says “dry clean only.”
Remembering the rayon of our mother’s generation, we display a distrust for anything constructed of this fabric, for we’ve been instilled with the belief it will most likely fall apart at the first hint of rain.
We look at the shoes and shake our heads in amazement. Can I walk in those, and do I want anyone to see me if I could.
The fashion scene is dismal from the skinny jeans to tops that show mountains and valleys, all in the wrong place. Maybe there is a comfortable jogging suit hiding somewhere on the clearance rack.