Fashion & Me
Or, a tale of my love-hate relationship with trends.
My mother is a stylish woman.
As a child, walking into her closet always felt like stepping into a magical land of adventure. She had a walk-in closet, (that as an adult, looking back, would have made anyone jealous… Especially early adult me, living in a shoe-closet apartment in NYC)with rows, upon rows of the luscious lace, soft silk, verdant velvets and boss-ass suits.
Chanel, Ralph Lauren, Anne Klein… Followed by another closet full of Ferragamo shoes… What I remember most vividly though, is the scent of her closet. It smelt of soft flowers, and exotic oils — a delicious combination that brings to mind comforting arms, and lullabies. Soft brushes and glistening rows of perfumes, make up and products, as they lay, shimmering like a mirage rising on the horizon.
Sometimes, when I was really, really good, she’d let me put a dab of her Chanel №5 on the insides of my wrist.
When I was very young, we used to get dressed together as she got ready for the day. She’d let me watch as she brushed on her face. The soft sweeps of her blush, the sureness of her wrist as she deftly swept on mascara… And of course, the ever matching outfits. I was a stylish kid.
As I got older, the adventures into her closet begin to lessen… I started dodging her embraces, banished the clothes she’d buy for me into a corner, and started dressing myself. For the most part, I stuck with oversized hoodies and baggy jeans — the international teenage dress code.
Needless to say, I’ve never been particularly fashionable. We moved around too much for me to care about what was fashionable in whichever part of the world we landed in. I say I’ve never been particularly fashionable, but that’s not to say that I didn’t try.
I definitely remember some trends… the tank top over t-shirt trend, for one.
I wore this one religiously… And I have no idea why. Honestly, looking back as an adult, I don’t know what could have ever prompted me to think this was cute… In any way, shape or form. It called to attention all the parts of myself I didn’t like (and still struggle to like), for example: my arms, my tummy and my lack of boobs, and yet, for some reason, 13 year old me thought it was super cute.
It wasn’t.
I also wore a lot of running shoes with jeans… Actually, I wore a lot of running shoes with everything. Every outfit was basically incomplete without a pair of runners. And no, I don’t mean sneakers. Chucks would’ve probably made more sense, but no. I honest-to-God mean runners.
I also wore dresses over jeans?
Why? I will never be able to tell you.
So, imagine my surprise when I see this:
What do you mean 2017? Didn’t this trend (fortunately) die in the mid-early 2000s?
I know, I know… Fashion is cyclical, as per most things in life. However, this mildly terrifying trend is back on point and I’m not happy about the flashbacks. As I’ve said, I’m not a fashionable person, but I’m glad I was on point, even if it was years in advance. That’s nice though, to know that I wasn’t unfashionable, just early for the time.
Like The Weeknd’s music.
For all that I don’t care about Fashion, I recently went back to my childhood home and stepped into my mother’s closet to recapture the magic of my lost youth. We played dress up for an afternoon. She gave me a lot of her old wrap dresses and skirts. Some old shirts, and her teenage jeans. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t fit into a lot of her stuff (she’s tiny and I’m… comparatively not). Size 6 back in the 90s is a modern day size 2… That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it!
I also found her old wedding dress, and she let me try it on… I couldn’t get it past my butt (it’s cause I’m bootylicious… and yes, that’s my excuse again, and I’m sticking with it!) but damn. People don’t make clothes the way they used to anymore, and it’s a shame. It truly is. The workmanship back then was impeccable. Things were just made to last.
Honestly, what really amazed me most, though, was the smell. I don’t know if it was the nostalgia or the anticipation for the nostalgia that made the scents more magical, but I swear…
It smelt the way Christmas mornings felt.
