I Hear More than I'd Like To, So I Boil My Head in a Sense of Humor
Funny thing, fashion. I spend more time in the mornings trying to figure out what will adorn my body for the day, and it usually turns out to be something that I will regret wearing around 11:30. I spend a great deal of time and money on haircuts, manicures, pedicures, shoes, which the cost of could feed a small country (not to mention the fact that I think I just saw really good knock-offs at Payless), etc. I used an entire evening devoted to my beloved Elle Magazine, but what did I learn about fashion? Nothing--other than the fact that I can't afford what I want, and by the time that I can, I will most likely find those once-coveted pieces in next year's garage sales. Just call me vintage, because I am living in the fashion past.
However, isn't it interesting to see that what our parents were wearing in the 60s and 70s have made their way back onto the fashion scene? No longer a blip on the "one man's junk, another man's treasure" radar, blessed be worn-in holes that weren't present prior to purchase, wedge heels, and a bright yellow Deep Purple shirt that my dad sported around the same campus I walked twenty-plus years later. Call me crazy, but all you loons that spend a good deal of your paychecks at the local Goodwill may just be onto something. Jimi Hendrix, hi, meet my friend Abercrombie, oh, and this is Fitch. Willie Nelson, please meet Jessica Simpson and take a right into high-dollar, less than classy rhinestones and leather fringe located in the juniors section of any local department store.
I'm not in denial, but I breeze on by the designer vintage stores with my head held high and make my way home, where I find leather belts with names pounded into the back, Smith & Wesson belt buckles, and old-school, original band t-shirts from the early years, boasting "I was there" character. To you, Paws Animal Shelter/thrift store, and Dad, I am truly indebted and vow to walk a mile in someone else's shoes--in classic, beat-up cowboy boots that I paid $5 for at a sidewalk sale in downtown Las Vegas, New Mexico.
listening: Damien Rice 9
However, isn't it interesting to see that what our parents were wearing in the 60s and 70s have made their way back onto the fashion scene? No longer a blip on the "one man's junk, another man's treasure" radar, blessed be worn-in holes that weren't present prior to purchase, wedge heels, and a bright yellow Deep Purple shirt that my dad sported around the same campus I walked twenty-plus years later. Call me crazy, but all you loons that spend a good deal of your paychecks at the local Goodwill may just be onto something. Jimi Hendrix, hi, meet my friend Abercrombie, oh, and this is Fitch. Willie Nelson, please meet Jessica Simpson and take a right into high-dollar, less than classy rhinestones and leather fringe located in the juniors section of any local department store.
I'm not in denial, but I breeze on by the designer vintage stores with my head held high and make my way home, where I find leather belts with names pounded into the back, Smith & Wesson belt buckles, and old-school, original band t-shirts from the early years, boasting "I was there" character. To you, Paws Animal Shelter/thrift store, and Dad, I am truly indebted and vow to walk a mile in someone else's shoes--in classic, beat-up cowboy boots that I paid $5 for at a sidewalk sale in downtown Las Vegas, New Mexico.
listening: Damien Rice 9
posted by Kylie at 8:01 AM
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