Wouldn't you know fashion would decide to go ahead and lap itself the month I turn 29? As if knocking on thirty's door ain't enough, I need THAT reminder of just how very old I've become?
Yoohooooo, remember me? C'mon, it's me, your jeans circa 1988. Remember us? We could never be pegged tight enough? Oh god. Noooooo! It's the pants that would slip easily over my then narrow ass but would balk stubbornly when it came to sliding my foot through the ankle..
At the tender age of 14, after perusing polaroids of my mom at the same age, squinting into a 1970 sun, the cuffs of her gargantuan bell bottoms pooling over her chunky clogs, I swore to the fashion demigods that I would never, EVER be caught in such an atrocity as pants that FLARED. Like, hideous.
***cut to me trouncing to my theater arts class at the University of Utah, bell bottoms floating over a pare of platforms nearly identical to the ones my mom wore***
Eventually I stopped ringing the bell, settled into a stylish (I thought) pant of the boot cut variety. See, I have Short Girl Complex and rockin' the bells helps elongate my little frog kicker legs.. I can wear sky-high platforms or stilletos, then, together, the long pants and I look taller.. But now..
Damn you Mischa Barton and your leggy lope in the skinny jean! I condemn you to hell needle thin Nicole Richie with the tight pants! And Sienna Miller with your tapered, pencil cut jeans! You're choosing to bring back the tapered jean? On purpose? But the flair balanced out the hip.. Now my pear shape will be on sad display, hips miles wider than my tightly bound ankles. The only way to take off pants at night will involve pulling the waist down and off first, turning the jean inside out, sitting down and yanking them from my choking ankles.
If they start putting little denim bows above zippered ankles and leg warmers begin making appearances, I don't think I'll make it to the Fall Collection alive.