Sometimes personal validation comes from the strangest of
places. For me…today…it came from
Harper’s Bazaar.
Finally, after years of feeling pitifully geriatric in my
28-year-old fashion sense, the ensembley eccentric brains over at HB informed
me that the fall of 2012 was officially going to be the high point of my
year. Possibly of my life. After countless seasons of wading through the
unwearable muck of boho chic, animal prints, and neon jeans, they have finally
come up with something I can work with.
No, not just work with. Something
I can master.
Granny-wear, with a subtle hint of militarization. All the rage for fall, kids. And praise Jesus, too, because this has
breathed some life back into all those Peter Pan collars I’ve got shoved in the
closet. And my sock drawer full of
prescription compression leg stockings to control unwanted swelling and
unsightly varicose veins? Très hip. I knew if I just held out long enough, fashion
would repeat. Welcome to 1865. Again.
Tweed, lace, collars, turtleneck sweaters, chunky crochet
knits – good Lord – I think I even saw some hunter’s plaid in there. As if I didn’t love the fall enough. Now I can pretty much collapse blindfolded
and drunk into my closet, roll around for three minutes and emerge looking effortlessly
fabulous. I couldn’t be more excited
than if you told me dry, frizzy hair and crow’s feet were in vogue.
So start raiding grandma’s closet, local estate sales,
nursing home bridge clubs…whatever. Fall
approaches, and if you haven’t snagged yourself a pair of Velcro orthopedic
sneakers by then I will absolutely make fun of you. It’s about the only time in my life I am
fashion forward…I’ve earned this.
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