I’m a little distracted here this morning, what with the massive news event happening just to the East of here. It’s kind of scary to wake up expecting to see Diane Sawyer and Robin Roberts talking about fall fashion or how it’s dangerous to wear Crocs on escaltors, only to have the local news on showing the same loop of toxic flames shooting into the air, again and again and again. Yikes. I just hope everybody’s safe. What a way to start the weekend, right?
In other news, yesterday it was in the eighties, and today, we woke up to a cold rain. Yep, fall is here. Which means digging through my closet, looking for sweaters and long sleeves, things I haven’t bothered with in months. The other day, they had an article in my local paper about style and style-setters, where they asked local people about what trends they were excited about for fall. Now, I’ve already written here about how I’m feeling unenthused in general with what I’ve seen at the stores, but these people, they clearly had another take. Prada pumps! Balenciaga clogs! Coach purses! Skinny jeans! I got tired just looking at the pictures. When did I become someone who just Does Not Care About Fashion? Or maybe the question is, did I ever in the first place? The truth is, I don’t really have the energy to worry about having the hottest thing out there, or even something tepid. I just want clothes that feel good, and look good, and that don’t fall apart when I wash them. I want simple basics, flattering jeans and stretchy black turtlenecks and one really, really nice cashmere sweater I can wear with everything, forever. I also want good hair and world peace, but I’m not holding my breath. (And okay, how shallow am I to even include world peace with cashmere sweaters and good hair? I sicken even myself.) I guess the point is that watching Project Runway is NOT making me fashion conscious, as much as I hoped that it might. Or maybe I’m just getting older, and that means realizing that trends do come and go, and then—like leggings, which I also will not be wearing—come back around again, but that classics are forever, in both clothing and everything else. At least this is justification for buying more black turtlenecks. And that can’t be all bad, right?
(My husband just passed by, glanced at the computer, and said, “Whatcha writing about?” And I said, “Oh, god, I don’t know. Clothes?” He kept walking. Sigh.)
What can I say, my brain is just kind of blown today. Maybe it’s the change in the weather. Or the toxic fumes. (That’s a joke. And a BAD one. What is wrong with me?) Or maybe, I’m still frustrated with Meredith Grey, who is kind of getting on my nerves with the whole “Woo me, I want candy and flowers, blah blah blah!” Whatever the reason, this is clearly not the way to start the fall season. What I need is a change of pace. Something cheerful. Like maybe…sock monkeys? (All I know about this book is that the photographer is a local Chapel Hill type. Plus, I love the cover. Nuff said!)