Everything Old is New Again

...including retro "fashion".

And I am totally a victim.

I was all about it about 6 or 7  years ago, when the 40s and  50's looks were coming back.  You know: towering heels, flattering skirts and dresses.  All the prom gowns and casual dresses looked like something out of a Hollywood movie.  Glam, a little flashy, but mostly classy.  Looked good on us curvy girls.  Yes and amen to that!  Then, a couple tears later, the paisley prints and loose sheath dresses of the 60's and 70's returned.  I could handle that, too.  Paired a shift dress with calf-high boots and a sweater, heck, that wasn't so bad.  Still work-appropriate, and I preferred dresses to pants, anyway.  Plus, the colors were great: bright teals and Deep Purples.  (Heh, heh.)

Then, about 2 tears ago, the 80s threw up all over the fashion industry, laying waste to the wasp-waisted, dainty-print daydresses of my fantasies.  Day-glo colors popped, band logos sneered, and suddenly, I was not alone in wanting to sport this t-shirt.  Now, I've been an advocate for 80s music and movies for a long, long time (mostly fighting passively-aggressively against my husband, who harbors a mild dislike for all things 80s...except Star Wars and Indiana Jones, of course), but the clothes?  Ouch, ouch, ouch.  I avoided them the first time around.  Leggings, huh?  Ripped sweatshirts?  Flat shoes? No, no, no!  I wore boys' jeans in the 80s because there were no designers who understood that young girls might want to wear pants that weren't skin-tight.  I wore clogs.  Oh, God, I wore clogs!  I am just realizing that now!  They were CLOGS.

And, yet...

Maybe it's because of my experience in the costume shop at Clarion, working with women (and Bob) who knew exactly how to dress people in the most flattering way.  Maybe it's because I spent so many years trying to look like everyone else that I finally got sick of it.  Maybe it's because I have an addiction to clothes and shoes.  Maybe it's because I am in a place where I realize - and accept! - that I will never be a size 4 who can't fill out an A cup, slinking around with a wispy waist and mile-long legs.  Maybe I am slowly realizing that what I look like - and what I wear - is not the greatest part of who I am, but merely an expression of it.  Maybe it's because the old adage, "don't knock it 'til you try it" keeps ringing in my head.  Maybe it's because I have a number of beautiful friends who don't meet the "ideal" for perfection, and who dress how they want because it makes them feel pretty.  Maybe it's because I have a husband who genuinely likes the way I dress, whether I am rocking rumpled hair, a flowing bohemian skirt and flip-flops or a belted sheath dress with four-inch heels and super-shiny lip gloss.

Maybe there really isn't a reason.  But I laid down my arms.  I said I'd wear them only to work out.

I bought a pair of leggings.  Then I bought two more pairs.  Then I bought some gorgeous flowing tunics that can only be worn with leggings.  And I don't wear those to the gym.  I like the leggings.  They are comfortable.  If worn with the right top, they make me look thinner.  Without shapewear.  Really.  Hallelujah and long live the legging!

Well, 80s, it looks like you won this round.  Just don't bring this hair back, ok?   Oh, and skinny jeans and white lipstick: you also have no chance with me.