Old Fashioned

 I could feel my age in the way I dress. Deep green stockings, plum top, and a faux leather skirt. I’m a walking silhouette. But this isn’t what the 24-year-old babies are wearing. 

It was my Taurus friend who initially inspired my interest in style. She chose her stripes with intention, understood that this dress cinches in the smallest part of one’s waist, and found me a sweater that somehow made my hair look nice.

Four years later, it was another Taurus friend who told me that earth tones are not for me, and to stick to jewels instead. 

These early-summer girls understand quality when they see it. 

And when I got a little bit older, I saw that my parents also dress well. My Dad with his “smart” sweater-vests and my mother with her crisp collars. 

Perhaps good taste is genetic? 

I felt self-conscious at the party. Everyone else was in beige sweaters and pants. They looked like they gave a shit about neither form nor colour. I understand the appeal of monochrome, but no one seemed to enjoy being beautiful. And then there was me: too feminine, too much of a flower, too much of giving a fuck. Well, why not? I may not be in my 20s, but I look it. I want to enjoy every moment of my youth. 

Upon closer inspection, Gen-Z fashion DOES work, but not for winter. Let’s put the same outfit into warm weather: you can have the same loose clothing, but an exposed midriff changes the whole look. Those wide-legged pants look cool and flowy with sneakers and sandals, but out-of-place over those chunky boots. And where’s the fun accessorizing? Was it that specific crowd? I probably need to do more research, but this isn’t the first time I’ve felt the generational gap through clothes. 

My ex is ten years younger than me. I met his cousin and the cousin’s girlfriend for the first time. I was already nervous. I wore a simple black cotton dress with a faint paisley design. Sweet silver earrings and my red sandals. The other girl, probably 15 years younger than me, was in shorts, t-shirt, bracelets. She was stunning. She didn’t need to be girly. I brushed it off as a difference in style. My boyfriend was nice. “Ooooh, so pretty!” he said. But I remember wishing I’d worn something else. “Nevermind,” I reminded myself, “Stay true to yourself.” 

And it’s true: I don’t actually care about what’s in fashion and if I’m out of touch and if I look like a grandma - with my perky tits and tight waist and toned ass. I mean, if we’re going to talk about “old” fashion, the 60s is undeniably one of the most elegant decades. The 70s had some very fun, flowy stuff. The 80s were, ahem, interesting. The 90s were more androgynous, as are current trends. And if fashion is cyclical as predicted, the sparkly 2000s should  be appearing any moment now.