Eyes watering from sunscreen made to defy age (and cancer, yeah yeah, whatever) , frustrated with my latest and last copy of Vogue, I almost stooped to quotes, not that there's shame in such stooping, because I frequently stoop, but to quote, Oscar Wilde, "be yourself, everyone else is already taken." To my regret, being myself requires that I be 47, unless someones's fixed that and if you have, hook a sister up.
This as yet unchanged state has resulted in my frustration with Vogue specifically and fashion in general. No where in my last copy of Vogue is there anything wearable for a woman my age, with my banker, and my battle scars. That's why this is my last copy. I have others, April, May for example but they're still in the plastic so I don't count them.
Shopping should be more fun now that I have more money than I did when I was 17, but either the market is geared towards the two extremes of too low cut, too short on one end, and matronly on the other or navigating one's 47 year old way through the mall it is a secret, possibly dark, art I've yet to learn.
Maybe Businessville is starting a magazine/repository of information particularly for a woman in and around her jubilee year who isn't willing to go out in a mumu, and is equally unwilling to show her wootwoot in a skirt too short to facilitate the elegant exiting of vehicles. How does one go about doing that sort of thing? The magazine thing, not the exit sans wootwoot waggle.
Somethings I do not want to have to know.
|not quite wootwoot wear, but still... at 47? Can't see it happening.|
Clothing by Betsey Johnson. They go with her glitter bomb boots