Hippie Chic

I’m in a fashion rut and I do not want out. Most women I know allow fashion to dictate what they wear, even those that aren’t considered fashionistas. I watched in amazement as women went from style to style, loving for the most part whatever someone in Vogue or In Style magazine told them to wear. I can’t say I didn’t try to be like them. I did, but I was never able to really pull it off. Those were what I now call my lost years.

When I awoke from the fashion induced fog I was in I realized that I had my own style. There was a look I always gravitated toward. I call it Hippie Chic. My favorite outfit would include bell bottoms, a tied dyed tank top, construction worker boots and hoop earrings. That’s my superman costume. My power suit. Can you feel me ?

I recently posted a picture of me on Facebook wearing overalls. Yeah, I know I’m 60. A comment from a friend said “Hey, that’s how we dressed in High School!” I took that as a compliment. My wish list includes a CPO jacket, a Pea Coat and a pair of Earth Shoes. I’ll have to skip the blue eye shadow (even I have my limits) but I do miss those little pots of color from Yardley. I miss Clairol Herbal Essence Shampoo too. Not the new fruity smelling shampoo they sell now. I miss the earthy smell of the original and I miss the baby powder smell of Love’s Baby Soft perfume. I still wear lipgloss most of the time, just not Bonne Bell.

Times change. My look is now called Boho. Damn you Olsen twins! Then again comfy straight leg jeans are now called Boyfriend Jeans. At least my generation is not responsible for the crime against humanity known as skinny jeans. Global warming yes, but not skinny jeans. For what it’s worth I own my look. My go to shop is a place called Dreadlocks on a little side street where the smell of patchouli permeates the air and I always find something I like. Something that makes people say “That outfit/shirt/dress is so you.” Strikes a pose!