I got a new jean jacket.
[side story: when I was in Junior High, jean jackets were the status symbol. I didn't have one when they were cool. I was too scared to ask my parents for one because they were all about me not conforming and being like "the crowd." Secretly, I would have given anything to own a Guess jean jacket. And a Swatch watch. And big bangs. A couple of years later, when everyone was getting brown leather coats, Mom happened to pick me up a jean jacket. Except that it was bulky and practical and had flannel lining inside. Not cool at all. Very soon after I took it to the Salvation Army and never told my mother.]
Anyway, I got this jean jacket, which is what I always wanted. No lining. The perfect length. Already worn looking. Jason complimented me on it, then looked at me and said, "The reason you aren't stylish, Ellen, is that you are going to wear that jacket everyday as a jacket and not an accessory." I thought about that, and it's true. I asked my very fashionable friend, Stephanie, about her jean jacket situation and she told me, a bit sheepishly, that she owned about five, plus corderoy jackets and leather jackets, and she matches them to her clothes for the day. But that's the difference. I am too damn practical to be stylish.
I mean, I know the basic stuff. Don't wear pink with red. Don't wear navy with black. If you tuck your shirt in, wear a belt. Match your belt to your shoes. If you are wearing black, take a black purse (I rarely follow that one, out of sheer laziness.) I was informed in college, by my friend Darla, that you should never ever, under any circumstances, wear brown hose. Not a problem for me, as I hate wearing the stuff anyway, but it was still enlightening.
But the rest of it, I'm kind of clueless. Sometimes my sister Karen will stop me and say, "You really shouldn't be wearing those pants anymore." I will look down and it's like Paul in the Bible, seeing again, after that dude rubs mud all over his eyes. I look at my pants and say, "Holy cow. How did this get so BAD?" Or Jason will say, "Please don't ever wear that shirt in public again." My response is usually, "But it's comfortable!" And he says, "Wear it in bed, then."
The real problem, if it is one, is that I truly truly don't care. I would much rather spend my money on art supplies or McDonald's. So there it is.
[side story: when I was in Junior High, jean jackets were the status symbol. I didn't have one when they were cool. I was too scared to ask my parents for one because they were all about me not conforming and being like "the crowd." Secretly, I would have given anything to own a Guess jean jacket. And a Swatch watch. And big bangs. A couple of years later, when everyone was getting brown leather coats, Mom happened to pick me up a jean jacket. Except that it was bulky and practical and had flannel lining inside. Not cool at all. Very soon after I took it to the Salvation Army and never told my mother.]
Anyway, I got this jean jacket, which is what I always wanted. No lining. The perfect length. Already worn looking. Jason complimented me on it, then looked at me and said, "The reason you aren't stylish, Ellen, is that you are going to wear that jacket everyday as a jacket and not an accessory." I thought about that, and it's true. I asked my very fashionable friend, Stephanie, about her jean jacket situation and she told me, a bit sheepishly, that she owned about five, plus corderoy jackets and leather jackets, and she matches them to her clothes for the day. But that's the difference. I am too damn practical to be stylish.
I mean, I know the basic stuff. Don't wear pink with red. Don't wear navy with black. If you tuck your shirt in, wear a belt. Match your belt to your shoes. If you are wearing black, take a black purse (I rarely follow that one, out of sheer laziness.) I was informed in college, by my friend Darla, that you should never ever, under any circumstances, wear brown hose. Not a problem for me, as I hate wearing the stuff anyway, but it was still enlightening.
But the rest of it, I'm kind of clueless. Sometimes my sister Karen will stop me and say, "You really shouldn't be wearing those pants anymore." I will look down and it's like Paul in the Bible, seeing again, after that dude rubs mud all over his eyes. I look at my pants and say, "Holy cow. How did this get so BAD?" Or Jason will say, "Please don't ever wear that shirt in public again." My response is usually, "But it's comfortable!" And he says, "Wear it in bed, then."
The real problem, if it is one, is that I truly truly don't care. I would much rather spend my money on art supplies or McDonald's. So there it is.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home