Today's weather forecast is cold and damp. I try to dress for the weather these days as I am more concerned with being warm than with looking 'cool'.
Most mornings like this, I step out of the shower, blow-dry my hair to make it look a little less like the firestorm it tends to resemble, don a pair of jeans and my hoodie.
Thus, my problem begins.
The very word 'hoodie' makes me wince. It makes me think of cute teenagers with perfect and pert little bodies in their oh-so-trendy togs. I feel like a reupholstered impostor. A cougar in sheep's clothing, if you will. I try to kid myself by calling it a sweatshirt...with a hood. It is not a hoodie. The fact that it has a rhino and the Ecko logo emblazoned on it really doesn't help me with my self-delusion, mores the pity.
Being 39, I fear that I am beyond a large percentage of contemporary fashion. This is a good thing, for the most part. Trust me - no one wants to see this body in clingy cashmere or, god forbid, a cinch belt.
The catalogs that show up weekly in my mailbox cause me to roll my eyes and chuckle heartily. Welcome back to 1984, folks. Had I known back then that this crap would come back in style...well, I probably would have thrown it all out anyway. It didn't look good on me the first time around - and my body didn't get any better with age.
A fine wine I am not.
I'm more of a rootbeer float.
I now have to consider what is 'age-appropriate' as far as clothing. There are some obvious choices I don't even have to worry about; hipsters and baby-doll tees, for example. Even when I was the right age for that kind of thing (somewhere between 9 and 11), I wouldn't have been caught dead in them. Yet I do see women my age and older pouring their wrinkles and cellulite into skin tight low-rider jeans and and cropped sweaters.
I mean, I admire their moxie... but fear for their sanity.
I also need not worry about carrying a micro-purse, cellphone charms, shoe jewelry or a miniscule dog. Some fashion trends are just plain stupid no matter how old you are.
Don't get me wrong - I hate the self-appointed Fashion Police - and I am yet to view a television program or read an interview with any of these Style Nazis that would make me trust them enough to tie my running shoes, let alone pick out an outfit for me. Most, if not all of them look like starving kittens with sprayed on tans wearing more labels than my grandmother's canning cupboard...and they're vacuous to boot.
I guess it all comes down to what you feel comfortable in and what looks good on you.
Maybe Goldie Hawn can still look fabulous walking the red carpet in a strapless white dress with sequins and fringe at the age of sixty-two. Then again, she can still stop traffic just by flashing her legs. I could probably stop traffic with my legs too...if I cut them off and tossed them into the street. However, horrific and fabulous don't quite compare.
So...back to my sweatshirt with the hood.
Yes, it's trendy...and yes, I'm probably far too old to enjoy it or wear it as much as I do. But at least I'm not showing off thong strings, navel rings and other age-inappropriate attire. If anything, I'm covering a multitude of sins...