beauty, Culture, Lifestyle, Manners, Sex, Snark, television, Top-Blogs, Uncategorized, US

No Jeans After 53…

Women of a certain age took another fashion hit. If we believed the crap spewed by those in the know, we’d never step foot out our front doors all made up, with long hair, powder on our faces and stiletto heels. All those things, btw, are the stuff of which “older” women should not partake.

If we don’t partake, how will anyone recognize the amazing from the ordinary? The latest hit–jeans. Did your eyes just get bigger? Mine too.

Not much of a jeans girls myself, I still will march right with you, girlfriend, on your right to wear whatever you want. Given that you look, and feel, fabulous. And that when the invitation says black tie you at least make an effort. I may disagree with your choice to shuffle in public in sweatpants, but I will never mess with your right to do so. You go girl. I may, however, talk behind your back. And write about it.

Thick, baggy sweat pants and t-shirts do you no favors. Especially if you’re of the older set. Have you learned nothing through all your years of experience and primping? Sweatpants with heels and a band emblazoned see-through t-shirt ala RHOBH Dorit Kemsley? You look like a three-year-old in a grown up body. Except the three-year-old knows when and with what to pair a glittery heel. Go ahead ask one–she’ll know.

It was on the Today show earlier this week. The age at which jean procurement should stop? For women. 53. No word on men. Whaaa? Just because designers can’t sew a pair of pants that fit anyone without a 23-year-old ass does not mean women over 50 should be left with fewer choices.

If you’re actually gonna pick out inappropriate fashion, for any age, why not choose wearing pajamas outside. We all love a great jammie, don’t get me wrong. These are designer silk pajamas. You pair them with heels and then prance around town pretending to be dressed. Yes, you look ridiculous. But what makes you the real fool is that you spent a thousand for the top and another thousand for the bottoms. If you’d like to buy my Victoria’s Secret cast off silks, I can get you a deal. And I guarantee they’ve only been worn indoors. Well, maybe on the patio sipping coffee or wine. But romping down Rodeo Drive–no, no and no again. See Kyle Richards, that paragon of caftan taste, in hers.

Perhaps instead of focusing on jeans, the supposed fashion forward should focus on fit for women who have been around long enough to know the power of a silk pj is not in public and a sweat pant should be reserved for Netflix night with a longtime paramour. Along with your special fuzzy socks, pizza and snuggling under a blanket.


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