In the Closet

Me, throwing another shirt on the bed: “Gaaaah!”

Chris: “What was wrong with what you had on the first time?”

Me: “Those stripes just don’t work with low-rise jeans.”

Chris: “I thought you looked great.”

Me, pulling another shirt off its hanger: “Yeah, yeah. . . . SERIOUSLY! This is ridiculous!”

Chris: “What’s wrong with that one? T-shirt and jeans?”

Me: “There are two kinds of t-shirt and jeans when it comes to women. One says, ‘Sexy and effortless.’ The other says, ‘Asexual slob.’ This right here says, ‘Welcome back to the Maury Povich show, today’s topic: Surprise! You’re married to a hermaphrodite.’”

I’ve been doing a lot of shopping lately. Kinda. I’ve been looking at a lot of clothes and shoes, trying to decide how to make the best use of my cash. Basically, I need an entire new wardrobe — right down to the skivvies. So far I’ve purchased two pairs of jeans, a pair of black pants, 2 pairs of shoes, a stripped button-down, a belt, a sweater, and two semi-dress shirts. I’ve got a black skirt from another life and a few size 10 shoes from my old 9 1/2 or 10 days. I’ve got some things that I’m hoping to get taken in. Then I’ve got t-shirts that are too big and a stack of tanks that fit perfectly, but I’ve only got 2 layering tanks, which means after 2 days I can either re-wear a layering one and be smelly or let my bra straps hang out and be trashy. (Or do laundry, but c’mon.)

I know lots of people have less. And it’s not a big deal, because I don’t get out all that much. But still. It gets to me sometimes.

The shopping gets me worked up sometimes too. I don’t mind shopping. But, really, I’m in a curious stage, walking that line between 21 and 39, frumpy mom and MILF Island. Plus, I’ve got to worry about being original/not getting boxed into my Definitive Year of Style*, while still not looking like I’m trying too hard to stay hip.

You know about The Definitive Year of Style, right? It’s the year you graduate from college (or the equivalent number of years if you go straight into a profession). That year is the culmination of fashion-development that probably began around 15. (Incidentally, this is also the year that often defines people’s taste in music.) Look around. People, years past graduation, are all over the place, wearing clothes that resemble their year. Sometimes the clothes are actually from that year. It’s how that lady down the hall in your office comes to work every morning with an extra pair of shoulders tucked in her mid-thigh-length blazer and how your church pianist sits on the bench every Sunday in an ankle-length dress with a classic, sailor collar.

For many people, that year provides a base of fashion sense until they reach their early 40s, at which point there’s a shift in style and a surge of creativity. You might see some attempts at rejuvenating one’s style shortly after 40. But, a few years in, a new sense of self-confidence emerges, allowing people to feel comfortable in their skin and identity, take chances, and re-personalize their style. New haircuts are also common. The Post-40 Look will usually become a person’s new definitive style, until it slowly morphs into the ever-recognizable Senior Citizen Style.

Anyway, The Definitive Year of Style’s not necessarily a bad thing. I even think you should retain some elements of your year. I just don’t think you should let it box you in. And that can be hard, especially when retailers aren’t doing anything to help out.

The truth is, there just aren’t a whole lot of stores that cater to women my age. They’re all either too young or too old. If you can’t tell by the appearance of the clothes, try something on. If the store’s too young, your regular size will be tight, short, and low-cut, and someone there will tell you that’s how it’s supposed to be. While in such a store, you may also become disoriented and experience sensory overload, as crossing the threshold often means transporting yourself into a world of blaring top 40 bass and clouds of cologne. (Another tip: odd sizes are for juniors.)

If the store’s too old, your regular size will turn you into a nice, flowy rectangle or, occasionally, a parachute. The waistband of your pants may also be able to serve as a brassiere. You’ll be tempted to think it’s a two-for-one deal, until some saleslady directs you over to their fine selection of reshaping and back-roll-smoothing undergarments.

My theory is men get to shop in youthful stores longer than women do (aka “should”). Don’t believe me? Just walk into American Eagle and look at the difference in men’s and women’s shorts. You’ve got your basic cargo short that can carry a man well into his late 30s and then shorts with 1 inch inseams that men (possibly wearing shorts from the same store) are banning from their teenage daughters’ closets left and right. Or at least they’re wanting to ban them, but their wives still haven’t figured out they shouldn’t be buying themselves and their daughters the same pair of shorts, so how can a pop put down the law?

And then there’s the issue of what’s in style right now period, for juniors and misses:

“Stretch” has been a retail staple for many years, and while I admit to enjoying the shapeliness it gives some of my clothes, I also feel like the situation’s gone overboard. You shouldn’t have to buy a pair of jeans that cut off your circulation in the dressing room just so they’ll fit perfectly after you wear them for 4 hours or ones that make you feel like a model in the store and sag down 3 inches by the time you get home. And, since salespeople are always telling me to buy my pants as tight as I can stand ’cause they’re gonna loosen up, I know this isn’t a personal problem.

Then there’s the empire-waist, flowy thing that’s been going on for the last two years. Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes that’s totally cute. But a lot of times it just makes a person look pregnant. Seriously, take a stroll through Pea in the Pod and just tell me you don’t see shirts that look exactly like everything in the main stores.

Stretch and empire shirts are hot, I think, for 2 main reasons: They let women get away with smaller sizes and they make women think they’re hiding their flaws. But, really, the stretch phenomenon tricks women into wearing pants that are too tight and create rolls at their hips that otherwise wouldn’t be there or into ones that end up sagging all the shape right out of their butts. Adding more fabric to a shirt only makes a person look bigger, not smaller.

And I haven’t even mentioned how right Elaine was about trick mirrors!

Anyway, it’s a problem. So, if you see me in the next 13 years wearing sweatpants in public, cut me some slack. Please, however, schedule an intervention if you catch me in the audition line for MILF Island.

* The Definitive Year of Style has not yet been proven by scientific research. Also, I’m not a fashion expert.