Fashion has been on my mind a lot lately. Maybe because I have been writing for this blog, maybe because lately it seems the number of items that I want (need? NEED.) is highly out of proportion with my fiscal consciousness (J. Crew’s latest collection anyone?).
But more than just the consumer side of fashion, I’ve been thinking about style in general; specifically, the ebb and flow of my own. There have been times (mainly in my early 20’s) when I felt like I was pretty cutting edge - daring and unapologetic in my appearance, transforming myself with a combination of identities – rocker glam, feminine frills, preppy princess. And other times of my life when my wardrobe mainly consisted of the same t-shirt in five different colors. We’ve all been through this. I think. I hope. (Everyone except Kristie. Seriously. Girlfriend looks glam in leggings and an oversize sweatshirt. I’d want to hate her if I didn’t love her so much).
Okay, so maybe I’m only speaking for myself, but there have definitely been times when I’ve been more survivin’ than stylin’.
Case in point: I had always promised myself that after I had kids I would not turn into a mom. Obviously, I was a mom, but I mean a mom mom, like that of momjeans notoriety. I would be a mama, she of hot origins. Obviously this promise was made long ago when my stomach muscles still touched and my thighs did not.
After my first child was born I felt like I made good on this promise. I may not have had a chance to brush my teeth before 3 pm but you better believe I had my 4-inch wedges on.
Fashion before hygiene, people.
So imagine my horror (HORROR!) when I found myself, post baby #2, walking around the grocery store in a zombie daze, nylon sweat pants on, hair falling out of a haphazard ponytail, rocking a baby bjorn in front, spit up stains in back and pushing my two year-old around in a giant cart/car monstrosity with a squeaky wheel which provided a backbeat to his toddler screams of “I want a cookie! I –WANT-A-COOKIE!!”
Guess what the store was out of that day? Dignity.
My point here, other than offering that lovely mental picture, is this: there are definitely times in our lives when we will feel like our fabulous-ness has turned into fail-bulous. And that’s okay. Because it’s not forever.
Whether it’s a new baby, sickness, hard time, or just being plain tired, we’ve all been there and we will continue to go back. But sweatpants will not stay on forever. Eventually, you will wash your hair. Someday soon, you may even put something on with actual buttons. And then there will even be times when you pull out the completely impractical stilettos, vamp it up with the green shadow and cat eye, rock the neon pink stripped nails and know that you are working it.
Nowadays, my wedges still make a fairly regular appearance, but definitely not as often as my plain silver flip-flops. And the next time I find myself in the store with those nylon pants and screaming kid, I’ll just hold my pony-tailed head up high and own it. Because I know that tomorrow I will break out the coral skinny jeans and liquid eyeliner.
But tomorrow is a long way away and right now, these sweatpants fit just right.