Please understand that the radio silence on my end has not been for lack of fashion adventures and frustrations. Rather it has been to allow myself proper contemplation of how far I've come in my quest to be less biz-caj over the past five months. Well I'm proud to report that three weekends ago, I wore leggings preeeety much as pants at the Edendale Grill - the very bar where I'd been accused of being a little business casual back in early June.
But I didn't JUST wear leggings as pants, and this is why I felt the moment called for a good blogging. This was not my go-to Gap Kids ensemble of yesteryear. (My sixth grade uniform: paisley leggings; matching color palate tunic sweater that draped to mid-thigh; and a locket that contained solution and a wand for blowing bubbles:
- sort of the coke spoon cross necklace from CRUEL INTENTIONS for the mid-90s middle school scene.)
These were plain black leggings, residing squarely in the center of the leggings spectrum.
Not so lame as to have stirrup feet:
But also not so cool as to be shiny gold lame and from the hipster porn store, American Apparel:
If the leggings I wore were politically minded they'd vote for Olympia Snow. Their taste in music would be Coldplay and they'd tell that story about when they tried out for "Deal or No Deal" at cocktail parties. Very middle of the road.
But I PAIRED them with my mom's 1980s Head Tennis dress which runs tight in the bust and short over the butt, with a teal and black striped pattern at the top and keyhole neckline. Something akin to these alledgedly easy-to-sew models:
And...wait for it...a jean jacket with the collar popped. Aaaaand theeen... yellow leather peep-toe flats. I mean, I made no sense as a human at that moment.
And I've NEVER gotten so much attention. From the opposite sex, from the same sex, from bartenders, from drunk hecklers. It was wild and it led me to an important conclusion: in LA, no one has any idea about what is going on, so if you dress like a second grader who got to pick her outfit, and just wear it like you're wearing Prada, people notice. And they think you suddenly know something they don't. I'm not so proud as to think people from Santa Monica to Eagle Rock started wearing vintage tennis dresses over leggings with jean jackets because I did it. I think most of us remember when I tried DESPERATELY to make L.L. Bean duck boots "happen" out here and that never quite caught on. I'm just saying, that maybe if I'd paired those duck boots with black denim overall shorts over a slinky tank top, instead of as part of a larger "Vermont lesbian mom who loves to garden" ensemble, I'd have had more success with my efforts.
Even as we moved from the Edendale to the more agenty hang out The Village Idiot, with God as my witness, people looked at my uncalled for, ridiculous outfit and thought, "Wait, is...is that a thing now?" And I'd like to continue this experiment throughout this fair city, making people wonder if total nonsense is "a thing now." Mismatched outfits of the "what-the..." variety to come:
Puffy 1980s ski parka over a thermal long john shirt...with short-shorts. And Keds flat sneakers.
Low back leotard under high-waisted mom jeans with jelly sandals.
Silk shirt unbuttoned over ironic tee OVER...my junior prom dress. With knee-high Doc Martins.
Perhaps I've gone too far. Perhaps I haven't gone far enough. It doesn't matter, because out here, no one knows any better.