It's not just the Pandemic. That's a big part of it, of course. You can't exactly get excited about wearing the same leggings and T-shirt ... again. Or putting your baby in something cute when she's only going to visit the living room. That alone makes me sad and hopeless.
But it's also the rest of the fashion world. It's like a Peter Paul and Mary song: Where have all the magazines gone, long time passing. It's not going into stores, not trying things on, not flipping through catalogues. The only catalogue that ever comes to my house anymore is L.L. Bean because I bought the kids slippers there a few years ago. Let me announce to the world, I have never bought or worn clothing from L.L. Bean and I never will (okay a pair of socks, but they were sooooooooo cozy!). But I find myself pawing through it as I sip my coffee because there is nothing else. Why oh why, Victoria's Secret, have you not sent me photos of impossibly thin women wearing ridiculous underwear? I won't buy it and certainly wouldn't wear it, but at least it wouldn't be so damn depressing as mom jeans and turtlenecks. Turtlenecks!
And listen all you hopeful, bright-eyed millenials, do NOT try to smooth this over by telling me A) 90's fashion is back (to that I say, Like gag me with a spoon!) or B) well, I just look at all these great fashion blogs on my phone. Instagram is not a magazine. Suddenly all these lovely mom friends of mine who used to post cute pics of their kids or amazing yoga poses are trying to be influencers. Please! I do not want to see you in athleisure. I do not want to know about what face cream you use. I really just want to see the dumb pictures of you and your kids at the beach. I really just want to see your attempts to capture a sunset.
In the famous words of Carrie Bradshaw, fashion is my cardio. It is also my bedtime, bathroom, morning coffee, and coffee break reading. It is my subway read. It is what I do when toddlers are playing around my feet so I don't go insane with boredom but also don't get so engrossed in what I'm reading that I can't pay attention when they start to climb the stairs or stick forks into electric outlets. It is not the same on a phone - you don't get free perfume samples and you can't rip out pages for your recipe books or your "one day i'll find this on sale at Loehmann's folder.
I find myself jonesing for fashion these days like a sugar fiend, which is what I've become. I have gained 15 pounds in this pandemic, stripped of all cardio, not just the fashion kind. And wandering from room to room between the baby and toys and un-folded laundry and re-folded laundry and various Chromebooks and wires, trying to get organized and never really being able to get anything done and never needing to actually get anywhere, which might force me to actually get something done.
It feels like, why bother cleaning my house? Why bother putting on earrings? In fact, why bother putting on pants? I used to be a shoe person. I - gasp! - wear shoes in my house and invite others to do the same. Also in the spirit of Carrie Bradshaw, shoes are part of the outfit, and I don't feel fully dressed without them. Slippers are not the same. I just feel so frumpy in slippers or flip flops, like my bra is hanging out, like I'm in a bathrobe or what my grandma used to wear - a housecoat. That's what it feels like these days, like my grandma at the end of her life, in shapeless house coats, never going anywhere, never feeling the need to wear a bra. But she was a woman in her 80's she deserved a break. She wore a girdle for decades for gods sake! She stood on her feet taking orders in a bakery for decades. She got dressed up for holidays and dinner parties and early bird specials. She earned her housecoat.
But as Woody Allen said, It's important to make a little effort once in a while. I am not 80. I am not done living. And for me, fashion is about living. It is hard to care about an extra 15 pounds when I'm not planning to put on a dress for a long time. I'll lose it then, I say in my head, though I fear I won't. I feel like my life is on hiatus because my wardrobe is. And along with it has gone all sense of self-care. I've stopped exercising, watching what I eat, even showering regularly. There were even a few scary days when I wondered if it were really necessary to brush my teeth.
So how to come back from this? Is it COVID sensitive to do an emergency trip to Anthro? Or Lucky? I'll even try on the size I really am at the current moment (and stare longingly at the size 4's I know I truly am way down deep beneath). Or, you know, I could just stop buying carrot cake in a cup from Acme. Please - I need to care about something again. And I don't mean spirituality or my fellow man. I mean skinny jeans and ponchos. HELP fashion gods! Help!
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