And other unfashionable choices I’m compelled to make
I’ve been drawn to wearing white, specifically my new-to-me white fabric boots with the slender high heel. I love heels and I will guess it is UNFASHIONABLE now. Or maybe it’s returned. I haven’t gone online to check and I probably won’t.
I’m old enough to remember “no white after Labor Day.” Ha ha. I love the cream white of the boots and the silhouette and being made a couple of inches taller. Click click click. Here I come.
I remember rules about open-toed shoes and pantyhose. L’eggs coming in egg-shaped containers. Runs in your stockings and using fingernail polish to try to stop them. I remember wearing shoulder pads. Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead. Uncle Buck.
Shit, I went to see Gremlins and Ghostbusters when I was young enough to be terrified and cry, and my older sister told me if I didn’t knock it off, she’d make me leave the theater.
This is what vintage does as I handle the clothes.
I remember my mall job. Walking through the mall at lunch, not able to afford anything, with no fashion sense or understanding. I loved buying fashion magazines later. That was an indulgence. Growing up, we got the Sears catalogue. Avon.
But I was captivated by Madonna and Cyndi Lauper and Blondie. I found things on record covers in the vinyl section and tried them out. Long T-shirts like dresses with fishnets. Asymmetrical earrings because I’d lost a heart and had a stud I could hang some chain on.
Then I was captivated by Tiffany and Debbie Gibson. Turtlenecks with a simple gold necklace.
I know, fashion and culture whiplash. They had already done the sweet teen, the rebellious teen, the whore, and back again. Fun rollercoaster. Psych.
But I’m still attracted to different fashion cycles, textiles, and colors, and I love to match and I love to mix them.
I don’t want to discard one thing for another. I want to dress them up with my love. All over my body. And sometimes wear my bangle bracelets and my asymmetrical earrings.
So, today’s subtly rebellious outfit.
A sleeveless floral blouse I’ve had for decades. A hole is starting in the back. I paired it with a cream scarf with fall leaves that I got from Talbots—a splurge for my daughter. I wanted her to have nice things.
Then a jacket I thrifted. It has three-quarter sleeves, or it’s petite. I don’t care. It’s fun. It has angles, shape, large brown buttons, and unnecessary buckles on the sleeves.
The jeans are Jessica Simpson. The only label I know in this outfit, and I’m not sure I even think of it as a label. It brings back a season of marketing in the 2000s. These came from the discount section of a department store. They stretch and cover my shapely legs from weightlifting. Cute butt.
I like the cream-white knit boots with their skinny heels under the dark blue denim. I like the cream flowers on my blouse and the cream scarf with its fall leaves, which I knotted.
Then the midcentury charm bracelet with its leaves and little orbs suggesting acorns and pumpkins.
I was just going for comfy fall. Fashionable fall. Old clothes, thrifted clothes, vintage finds. I love the creative possibilities.
And a note about these boots: they hurt my feet when I first got them. Since then, I’ve been doing weightlifting, including calf raises and standing on the balls of my feet. This time, they didn’t hurt even a little.
Bonus. I love heels.
I remember being sold the idea that the pain in my feet and back was fashion oppressing women. It was the patriarchy. These boots used to hurt my feet. Since I’ve been lifting weights, they haven’t. As a weightlifter, my heels don’t feel like oppression. They feel like reclamation. White fabric and all.
