The Teenager Me - Recycled

It took me years, literally, to find a pair of "riding boots" that I loved - and that fit my muscular calves (I have dainty ankles, but inherited my Pop's calves, which are great, but not good for tall boot wearing). Finally, Ginger came through at the DSS, and I scored a perfect Modern Vintage pair (thanks, in part, to a lovely lady who didn't play the mean evil shopper and let me go first). I wear them constantly in cooler weather.

Then, today, my facebook feed displayed these beauties.

Boden, a funny, sophisticated British venture that started out with 8 menswear items, had posted these. I think they did it just for me. While a small fortune at 179 pounds, they might just be worth it. There's something to be said for the English fashion aesthetic - at least the one that's not all tweed and jodphurs. In your face, snarky, and always a little twisted, the Brits have a way of saying it all - louder than you'd expect them to do in a quiet demure tearoom, of course.

I adore, and always have a soft spot in my heart for lace and bodices and refined, soft colors (yes, I devour historical novels). That's one Teenager Me, dreaming of her Gilbert (yes, yes, I know that's a Canadian story, but you get the picture). The other Teenager Me stomped around in what she thought was cool and not-like-anyone-else in her daddy's plaid blazer, her mother's "paint" jeans, and vests and blouses that should've stayed at the thrift store. That same Teenager Me hung with the theater crowd, which in our school was an odd mix of punk and hippie. (The same dear friends who post their kids' pics on fb one minute, and announce their attendance at a Depeche Mode concert the next, and incidentally, just gathered for a mini-reunion I missed at a local winery owned by the parents of one said friend. I raise a glass, my dears.)

Four years ago The Met had an amazing exhibit on British fashion - in which McQueen, Westwood, and the Royals all played a part. And I fell in love again. I should've done it then, and hopefully I'll do it now, but it's time to bring a little Brit punk to the world - if I can swing a 179 pound pair of boots into the budget.

Style Flashback: Not Like Teen Spirit - it just smells

Really.



I've got to get skilled at snapping people's pics with my cameraphone on the sly. Pretend I'm txting or something.



I didn't figure it out until I got back to the car, and by then, well, it would've been painfully obvious.



After mommy's Big Night Out at the ballgame (go Phils!), I stopped at the Tenleytown CVS to pick up diapers. Fun.



On my way out, there was a gaggle of girls I'll assume were AU students (maybe Wilson HS kids, though, I can never tell ages anymore).



Dressed to the nines in grunge.



I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now. Especially when it's just too "done" to be real.



If you're gonna go grunge, do it all the way. Don't pair it with suede booties and a pseudomullet. These girls looked like they wanted to project "I don't care," but really did - way too much. And they seriously looked just like the "Heathens" that used to hang in the "smoking lounge" (read: courtyard between the math and "vocational" wings) back in high school.* Teal and black plaid flannel to boot.



I know it's been on the runways in the past few seasons, but this is really one time that a trend shouldn't remotely be recycled. Nothing viable about it in the least.



*a) I know I'm dating myself with a HS that allowed smoking at all, and b) yes, yes, I know I'm being all clique-y and HS-ish by naming a group. But that was the reality that bit back then...