Tuesday, 9 November 2010

(not the) dedicated follower of fashion rules

For those that know me in real life, this is going to be a wholly inappropriate post, for today I am going to discuss fashion.

I try to scrub up and some days I get it right, but I'm hardly a fashionista.

I wish.


I would be with more time and more money, but I'm just too busy,
you know? 
With real things.


Like living, and writing this nonsense.

So now, my disclaimer out of the way,
I want to chat about 'Age-appropriate' fashion.

These people were waiting for a bus at the same time as me.
The woman had awesome legs, which you can tell by the length of her skirt.


But from the front, she was definitely well into her sixties...

I found myself wondering whether I was being too conservative in my approach.

Had I accidentally been dressing too old? Should I shorten my hemline, wear higher heels, still be shopping like I did at 26 - only in a different size?

Then I realised I sounded like Carrie Bradshaw, asking a million questions of myself, and that's the start of a slippery slope towards dressing like a fool:


However, on the back of the lady at the bus stop, age-appropriateness is something that I've been thinking about on and off when various ensembles have caught my eye.

I may not be Joan Rivers, but I know stupid when I see it.

 


So, let's assume Team Wang missed the Size Zero debate that has been raging since 2006, and look past the bony shoulders, and what may be a kwashiorkor belly under those sashes.

I'm still left wondering how on earth they think a girl who is at least half a life time away from her own wedding day would make a good model for a wedding dress? 

Does any bride-to-be see this and think 'I want to look like a teenage vampire bride from Twilight, and walk my adolescent insecurities down the aisle?'

And now, Exhibit 2:


A mannequin at Fenwick. Fenwick of Old Bond Street, London.
Old Fenwick, since 1882, where you should go if you have old money.

Or just a lot of money.

Let me tell you, this ensemble worked out close to a thousand pounds.

Get over the incredulity of paying that much money for anything beige, and pay attention to the discussion we're having about age.

How did the window dresser think that pose was going to attract any woman looking to drop a fair few hundred pounds on something that might kindly be described as 'sandy coloured'?

I might not work in fashion.

But I know that ladies who would be enticed by that skirt length, the heavy beading, the shapeless jacket, that colour (it wasn't even greige - the love-child of beige and grey, which actually might have worked as a 'granny of the bride' outfit),
would not be striking a pose like that.

And then, just when I'm feeling like I'm becoming an expert, I've shortened my hemlines, and I'm ready to be calling the shots,

 I see this on the Sartorialist:


I keep coming back to it.

She looks amazing.

From the back.

I don't think I've ever wondered what I look like from the back.

It's just a 'seen on the street shot' - it's not a campaign shot.

Seriously.

She's in Milan.

Obviously.

Who else could rock leopard print shoes, red nails and handbag
- all during the day -

with granddad's sweater?










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