Lori Borgman
I’m too practical to ever be fashionable.
When I saw a photo of Kylie Jenner wearing a simple black dress with a life-size fake taxidermy lion head, my first thought was: Will it be able to climb the table when served? the food?
How can she keep her balance?
Will she be able to navigate that monstrosity in a toilet stall?
I’m so ordinary, I check the weather app before I decide what to wear. My fashion advisor is the local weatherman.
I’m so unimaginative that I’ve never looked at the possibilities in my closet and thought, “I wonder what an artist’s rendition of an animal head would look like attached to that.”
The faux-taxidermy accessory may be a trend that falls under the heading of “fashion regret.” Far be it from me to throw the first pillow of the shoulders; I live with my fashion regrets.
Granny dresses with long skirts and big sleeves were popular when I was in high school. I felt wonderfully fashionable oscillating in the corridor between history and mathematics. I looked like one of the Ingalls girls from Little House on the Prairie.
In the early years of my motherhood, big lace collars on dresses were the trend. They were feminine and embellished. I tried to talk my mother into getting one. She refused, saying it would look like she had hit her head on a tablecloth. I immediately understood why I always felt like eating from china when I wore that dress.
Mom jeans were one of the few fashion trends I was on board with. I just heard they went out of fashion a while ago.
Big hair had great staying power. This is the only trend I have been on top of. Big hair is the past, present and future, as my hair is associated with moisture. Again, with the meteorologist, my fashion advisor.
Jane Fonda’s workout videos popularized leg warmers. The leg warmers were like long evening gloves without the toes, only you wore them on your feet.
Even now I wonder why? What were we thinking?
Today I read that the big jacket is the latest rage; everyone who is someone will swim in one. True to its name, the oversized jacket is big, with big, oversized sleeves and a trapeze cut that’s generous enough to fit you and three friends.
If I wore one of the big jackets, one of the big guys would ask me if I was playing dress-up. Someone else would wonder if I wasn’t too old to be trick-or-treating and I’d wonder if I seriously thought I could put a seat belt around the whole fabric.
One designer was quoted as telling women, “Embrace the oversized fit and it will fit you.”
That’s exactly what worries me.
Lori Borgman is a columnist, author and speaker. Her book “What Happens at Grandma’s Stays at Grandma’s” is now available. Email it to lori@loriborgman.com.
