I’m in a weird place, fashion wise.
29 isn’t quite ‘juniors’, but not quite ‘misses’. Its some sort of eclectic blend of the two at best, meaning I need to think about where I’m going when I dress myself. I’m not coherent as a person until 10AM so its a bit of a challenge.
Adding to that mess is the fact that I’m fat (I know, I was surprised when I found out too). Which isn’t a bad thing but as anyone above a size 16 can attest to, the options are limited. I can pay out the ass for something that hopefully fits well and will last, or I can budget out cheap clothing that will have thigh holes within a matter of weeks.
Either way I have to order online and pray to god the sizing chart is at least somewhat accurate. I can’t even begin to tell you the heartbreak that is seeing ‘3X’ and then reading that the bust measurement is only 42. Why can’t we come together on a global scale and just create a sizing system that has some sort of standard? ANY sort of standard? Probably the same reason America refuses to acknowledge the metric system: We don’t deserve nice things, as a species.
Complicating matters further, I still for the life of me can’t figure out my aesthetic. I had settled on ‘Post Punk Lebowski’, but now I feel like its not feminine enough. I honestly can’t tell how I want to present myself most days, which probably speaks to my in ability to figure fucking anything out. Other aesthetic contenders are ‘Old World New Wave’ and ‘Perpetual Confusion’. The latter is currently an incredible success.
Also how the fuck is 90s fashion back already? I keep having to stop myself from being like ‘yeah I’ll totally look good in this dated ass shit’. Because lets be real, ‘throwback’ fashion only looks good on the newly young, not on the people who were there for the first go round. It is a nostalgic tease, no one wants to see my old lady neck hair caught in a tattoo choker. But I’m going to wear one anyway because I don’t care what anyone wants to see, and I look hella cute (Yeah thats right. Hella. Cuz we’re throwbacking). But I can’t go back to flares, or the wide leg jeans that are undoubtedly on the horizon. You can’t give the world jeggings and expect us to be excited about 50″ hems. We’ve seen the other side.
Or maybe I’ll just get cryogenically frozen and thawed out in time for Federation resort wear.