Smells Like Post-Teen Spirit

I bought a copy of Elle the other day. There was a model on it wearing a Nirvana t-shirt. The girl half my age behind the counter gasped "Oh my god, I love Nirvana!" You know, like she'd discovered them.

I'm sure she thought I was far too old and unhip to have even the slightest clue. I raised my eyebrows and said "Oh yeah?" noncommittally. Inside my head I was screaming "I was there! You weren't even born! This isn't your thing! It's my thing!"

Of course it isn't. I haven't listened to them in years and years. But I still feel very proprietorial. They were the first band that I felt that my very existence was linked to. You know, middle class girls at a convent school in the darkest reaches of middle class Sussex. Obvs. We knew what teen spirit smelled like in our own modest way. Seriously...

It was our first taste of obsession, and we had to make everything in our lives (or at least our wardrobes) demonstrate our allegiance. And the easiest way to do that was via the glory of the plaid shirt.

It brings to mind that scene in Clueless when Cher enquires "So this flannel shirt deal... Is that a nod to the crispy Seattle weather, or are you just trying to stay warm in front of the refrigerator?" We were just fortunate that our school (the prison on the hill, natch) was chilly enough to merit the toasty making qualities of a thick plaid shirt.

Now, I have no desire to start dressing like this, which is how the Nirvana/check shirt is showing its face this season.

I am an old person. I am not Cara Delevingne. I will definitely leave that to the yoof.

But there is something so super appealing about a check shirt for winter. Cosy and forgiving and a very slight tip of a head to the trend so you don't feel completely past it.

Here are some of my favourites. I would be tempted to wear them tucked into a mid-calf high waisted black pencil skirt, my Belstaff biker boots and a chunky cardigan. Bliss!

 A.P.C

 Jigsaw

 Wrangler

Zara

                              (Images via Lookbook, Flamingo Pink, Red, Jigsaw, Asos)

All Grown Up

When I see young ladies wearing very little, it occurs to me that I wouldn't reveal myself like that for all the tea in China.

I used to look at slightly older ladies (this was when I was a teenager, so I obviously meant women in their thirties) and feel bad for them that they were so self conscious that they had to cover up their bodies.

Now I realise that covering up is infinitely more elegant. And more mysterious. A girl with all her goods on show isn't hiding anything. Unless she's actually a wall flower.

(Images via Jigsaw)

At the grand old age of 32 I only want to dress like a grown up (ok, maybe that isn't 100% true, but getting there). And with beautiful, subtle, elegant dresses like these, why wouldn't I?

A Shot in the Dark

I am officially old.

I don't get the young anymore.

I don't get your Aubin & Wills.

I don't get your Ambercrombie & Fitch.

And I most certainly don't get your Hollister.

That whole California chic is all very well. If you live in California. But even when I lived in Santa Cruz I didn't/couldn't do that whole preppy surfer look. It just isn't very interesting. It is all a bit pure and uninspired. That whole jock/cheeleader appeal never really hit our shores. And that's one of the problems I have. Clothes that suit a Californian climate can surely never be right for our more blustery coastline. Let alone our cities.

These looks that combine parkas with mini (mini) skirt and flip flops would barely be appropriate for a summer day here. And anyway, why would we want to dress like generic American kids anyway? As I say, I don't get the young. Because they are going nuts for it. I can barely cross the street without seeing kids wrangling A&W, A&F and H bags.

 

Which brings me to my, err, hundredth (?!) gripe. The shops themselves. Have you seen a Hollister? Have you been in one? Well, no, ahem, me neither. But I've been passed one. It is like a grotto. And not in the Playboy sense, but in the dank, dark cave sense. How can you possibly go shopping in those conditions? The only way I would venture in would be with a head torch strapped to my bonce.

I know, I know, before you say it, this place is clearly not meant for me. But does a young person not care about being able to see stuff?

Their advertising is all outdoorsy, hot young girls and guys (or Dudes and Bettys as they are known on the website, bleurgh!) on the beach, heading off surfing, admiring each other's perfect bodies, so why are they going the opposite way in their shops?

Clearly I am just old and bitter and washed up and too cynical and mean to enter into this phenomenon.

Which is a shame because, much as I am loathe to admit it, some of this stuff is quite cute.

(Images via Hollister)

Shock and Awful

(Image via Topshop)

I don't know if I should admit this... what with us writing a fashion blog and everything... and being superior and judgemental... because it might jeopardise our footing... but I went in to Topshop yesterday, and as far as I could surmise there was not a single thing that I would have parted with my hard earned for.

This dress is just one example of the horrors.

Have I become old? Do I need to start shopping at Boden (I have already been thinking vaguely about getting the catalogue...)? Do we need to resort to desperate measures to youthify me?

Or... is it Topshop's fault? Coz I was in River Island with an armful of things I wanted to buy but decided to wait til payday before snagging. So that must be it. It's not me. It's them. Right...?