OK, I’m chronically old, and what I mean is I have a couple of conditions that require the accessories of decrepitude — the multi-compartment day-of-the-week pillbox, large calendars, multiple reminder gimmicks, sensible shoes, etc.
I can’t believe that, back when I was a teacher, I would walk up and down slippery marble staircases in high heels with both arms full of papers and books. I’m no dummy, so I gave up high heels years ago, and sensible shoes can be quite stylish, as are flat boots.
Warning: my daughter would describe what I’m going to talk about as “white people’s problems.”
I still try to look put-together, but it’s getting to be too much damn work.
Take my hair. Please. In addition to the expense of color-and-cut, there’s the routine of shampoo, moisturize, blow-dry, moisturize, straighten-and-curl again and — take a nap. Oh wait, I have to put on my make-up.
My friend Marsha and I vowed we would never get the old woman’s haircut — the one that’s short and spiky on top so you look like you’ve just had shock therapy. But I’m tempted. Or maybe a Little House on the Prairie braid down my back. Sort of a Georgia O’Keefe look.
Someone must have told the god of catalogs about my expanding waistline because I get tons of catalogs aimed at the “stylish stout.” The tops have a vague tent-like quality, or “forgiving” if you prefer — and I do. They also feature lots of tops that are longer in back than in front, for obvious reasons.
One of these catalogs, The Vermont Country Store, carries really old-time products that I’m embarrassed to say I remember, such as Max Factor pancake makeup, Evening in Paris cologne and Tangee lipstick! My dad gave my mother Evening in Paris every Christmas. She never wore it, but I used it liberally … when I was 8.
Finding a good pair of jeans that fits is like winning the lottery. Thank God you can wear them everywhere except wakes and weddings. I prefer the ones with buttons and belt because the ones with stretchy waistbands tend to head south, and really, there’s no good place to pull them up if you’re in public. Maybe I should invent over-the-shoulder garters to attach to women’s pants — men call them suspenders — except who wants another uncomfortable contraption? Bras are torture enough. Of course, bras with suspenders attached — and maybe in the same material and trim as the bra — I could make so much money I’d be considered eccentric and not a slob if I dressed any way I like.
I usually sleep well at night, but occasionally I check out the home shopping channels. I knew I needed a sedative, years ago, when I almost called up and bought “real” emerald earrings. I still do tune in every once in a while for the shock-and-awe value. Yes, Melissa McCarthy does hawk her clothing line on TV, which accounts for her priceless SNL bit about Ivanka’s watch and shoes.
Some of the stuff looks fine, but some of it should not be sent through the mail. No woman who wears size 3X should be encouraged to wear orange tights topped by a hoody with faux fur trim.
