I'm too busy now to pay much attention to what's in style. I admit to enjoying the Sartorialist once in a while, but that's more about what's classic or individualistic than what's hot. Being hip requires actual study. You've got to read the right magazines and blogs, watch the right TV.
I don't care anymore. I have so many other things to read, and we got rid of our cable over a year ago. (I thought I'd miss prime time. I don't.) I just don't have time to have fashion sense.
I wouldn't mind wearing the latest clothes if someone else would pick them out for me--in fact I really must do something about my wardrobe--but having the house foundation inspected is higher on my priority list than wearing the right foundation underwear.
It's a function of age, I think. You get older and your priorities change. My mother, in her later years, wore wild outfits all of one color group: purple tennis shoes, long purple skirt, purple leather belt, purple cotton blouse, purple knit sweater and purple straw hat for example--not all the same purple, but at least all purple. You couldn't miss her in a crowd the size of Oregon. This I pledge I will not do. I'm only middle-aged, though, so there's plenty of time for my lack of fashion sense to grow out of proportion in some way of my very own.
Why this photo, instead of one of me in my crappy old jeans and Led Zeppelin t-shirt? Just musing on the hipness theme after a visit to Intelligentsia where everyone else there was right out of...well, I don't know, do I? I don't read that stuff.
