I Found Pretty

A year ago I posted about the difficulty of finding pretty clothes ("Whatever Happened to Pretty?!  December 2012.)  Well, I just went clothes shopping again.  I'm going to a party this weekend, and I want to wear something that's somewhere between jeans and a cocktail dress, you know?  But of course I don't own anything else.  I always seem to discover the woeful state of my wardrobe at Christmas, probably because it's the only time of year I require clothes different from jeans or running tights.  

So I braved a trip to the mall, and nothing's changed in fashion since last year.  I have a choice, it seems, between "slutty" and "old lady," and I don't like either one.  I can choose either a polyester suit in a sensible navy, or a polyester skirt cut up to there in hot pink, or some wild print, or both together, presumably to be worn with a blouse that is nothing more than a few handkerchiefs held together with string.  Really?  Has the entire American retail industry forgotten about everyone between 25 and 65?  (And that's assuming women outside that spread should have to dress like that either.)

I saw jeans that look as though the wearer has been attacked.  I found them almost creepy.  And the colors!  They're the worst, regardless of age.  Oceans of black, lighted occasionally by oatmeal, fatigue, and a washed out mauve that doubtless is the new pink.  The colors even sound unattractive.  No patterns, unless you count the animal prints liberally strewn across all underclothing.

Of course, it is possible I've been watching too much Downton Abbey to make clothes shopping a good idea at present.  

No comparison.  From the sublime to the ridiculous.

However, I did eventually find some pretty clothes at the mall.  Guess where?  In the men's department.  That's right, the boys get all the pretty clothes now - rows of shirts in rainbow colors, ties with charming floral prints, and soft sweaters in pink and peach, like fuzzy tropical  cocktails.  Oh, when did the world arrive at such a state of gender confusion!  Girls, let's storm the men's department and take back our right to wear pink!  (Apart from the breast cancer awareness campaign, as if there's anyone on the planet that's not aware of it.  I much prefer "save the tatas.")  Let's turn those tattered jeans and too-short skirts into the rags they long to be and return to pretty.  It's not a sign of weakness, it's a sign of femininity, and anyone who's given birth can tell you, there's no weakness in femininity!