Fashion

Last night while Emily was at driver's ed class I went to Goodwill to shop for a couple of summer outfits for me, polos for Emily, and a few other things.

Viewing thousands of garments reaffirmed a conclusion I came to a long time ago: the fashion industry and I do not get along.

One of the many strange quirks of fashion is this: they expect you to have an inverse relationship between size and coverage: the smaller you are, the more you show.

Emily is tallish but very thin. The teenage-girl tops in her size are weak, wispy, bitsy, tiny, fragile, slithery, ugly little scraps of fabric that refuse to stay on the hangers and that in my opinion wouldn't qualify as cleaning rags much less clothing to preserve my beautiful daughter's dignity and class.

I am size 8-12 depending on the brand. The fabric is more substantial in my sizes, but I still find it nearly impossible to find things that fit my parameters for neck height and skirt length and such. And sleeve length. Dear me. Do these people not realize that we non-athletic 40-somethings have arm flaps we would like to cover up for everyone's benefit?

I have never wanted to weigh 175 pounds, but the one advantage would be that I could find clothes I like. In the large sizes the skirts are long and full, the sleeves often reach the elbow, the fabric is high-quality, and the colors are actual real colors instead of weird chemistry-lab concoctions.

I don't really have time to sew but I don't have much choice.

And yeah, I know there are specific brands such as Chadwicks with nice clothes in my size. The trouble is, Goodwill is what I can afford but it means digging through everything the fashion industry produces.

Quote of the Day:
"You know it's bad when you just have to go bite your pillow."
--my friend Arlene, on raising four children, after her son took all her pantyhose and tied them to chair and table legs all over the kitchen to make fences.