Thursday, February 16, 2006

Fashion Nostalgia

Nostalgia is nothing new in the fashion world. After all, few sane designers don't consider vintage looks and fashion history before designing a new collection. I, however, have fashion nostalgia on a personal level. Sure, when I see fabulous vintage Roger Vivier shoes or something, I wish that I had lived in the era when I could wear them (and by wear them, I mean afford them), but it's such a hopeless, intangible wish that it doesn't mean much to me.

Things that I've owned are different. My earliest case of fashion nostalgia dates back to the late eighties/early nineties when I was but a wee girl with lots of stirrup leggings (why, Mom, why?). On top of all the puffy-sleeved blouses and land's end turtlenecks, I had a t-shirt with a sketched-looking picture of cats on it, very tastefully accented with silver glitter. Oh, and the sleeves were day-glo pink and green. Of course, seeing as I was in kindergarten or preschool when I had that top, it's not as though I could wear it if it hadn't gotten lost in the shuffle somewhere; still, it would be comforting to have around.

Another early memory is a pair of green rainboots with kermit the frog's face on the toes. Strangely enough, I don't recall particularly loving them at the time; although I currently have quite the shoe fetish, the only shoes from my childhood that I remember truly adoring were a pair of velcro sneakers with cat faces (do we see a pattern here?) over the velcro part. Of course, those were run over by the lawnmower (why, dad, why?), so I didn't get to wear them for long. The significance of the kermit boots is that I'd really kind of like to own them now. Hey, don't laugh. That's not nice. I mean, come on, they're a lot more interesting than everyone else's patterned wellies! Hmph.

But perhaps my most severe case of fashion nostalgia dates back to my sophomore or junior year of highschool. I had a pair of light twill khaki-colored pants that had sort of a relaxed, slouchy fit, though they were still fitted through the thigh, and a drawstring waist. I know that they sound like something that you could probably find at Kohl's or somewhere equally generic and ubiquitous, but what set these pants apart were the tiny little drawstrings around the ankle--I never wore the ankle drawstring tied so tightly that they were genie pants, but they always had a very unique (but incredibly flattering) silhouette. But all good things must come to an end--I lost some weight and they got too big, and to put the final nail in the coffin, something funny happened to them in the wash. Dear, sweet pants, I'll never forget you.

Ok, so to make a long story short (no, wait; this is more of a to-make-a-long-story-slightly-longer-type thing), I think that these pants are certainly going to become a nostalgia piece (and please don't ask about how the picture was taken):

And they've already been attacked by mayonnaise.


I don't even really eat mayonnaise.


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