During my midlife years, I’ve become fashionable. But it’s not my fault, I swear!
It’s not that I’ve never had fashion sense. It’s been more a matter of not caring. Or, to be more accurate, I suppose I’ve always cared more about being intentionally obnoxious than trendy. Of course I’ll claim that wearing shorts beneath a trenchcoat during my university years at the University of Montana was all about utility (going from the snowy cold outside to the balmy radiant heat of the Liberal Arts Building), when in fact it was mostly about being obnoxious. Throw in a pair of Ugg boots that my mommy gave me (back before Ugg boots were a thing), and the look was complete.
To be fair, I also didn’t really have the time or money to be fashionable back in the day. My outfits consisted of a mix and match between the stuff my mom gave me and the things I found within five minutes of entering the thrift store. (I don’t have patience for shopping past the first five minutes.)
Walking home yesterday, I realized I had become the poster child for the urban Gen-X Gripster (granola/hipster) against my will. And I’m here today to own it…sort of. This is who I’ve become through a series of life events and priorizations. It is what it is, and there’s no going back now.
I love my Cotopaxi backpack. I didn’t even know I liked colorful things until my mother gave it to me. (You should be picking up on a theme by this point.) I know, I know, Cotopaxi is core granola right now. A “climate neutral certified” company, they even boast of a “poverty fighting business model.” I mean, you can’t get any more tree-huggery than Cotopaxi. (But it’s so lightweight and doesn’t make my back all sweaty!)
Then there’s my Hoka running shoes. Of course for me they are walking shoes. To be crystal clear, running is for suckers. And Hoka is the trendy king of the hill for all those urban-running suckers out there. I get asked if I’m a runner at least once a week because of my bright yellow/orange/salmon/blue Hoka shoes. Everytime, I’m obliged to explain how they are the only shoes I’ve found that allow me to continue walking miles everyday despite my plantar fasciitis.
Throw in my Levi, bootcut jeans (found in 3.5 minutes at the local Deseret Industries Thrift Shop), my Oakley wraparound shades (they only kind that covers my peripheral vision while sitting far enough from my face to prevent my abnormally long eyelashes from striking the lenses everytime I blink), and my camouflage Idaho Steelheads mesh cap (free from attending a game) and the look is complete. Beneath that cap, I’m even rocking a classic, gray-haired quiff worthy of Pierce Brosnan).
I am a white, middle-class, urban gripster. But at least I’m walking, instead of driving a hybrid Hummer or something. Walking isn’t trendy, right? I mean, I could have one of those fancy powered bicycles.
And to ensure my streak of ongoing obnoxiousness, I make sure I wear my Hoka sandals paired with white athletic socks. That combo still guarantees at least an eye roll or a head shake when I’m out in public. So, I guess all this to say, it could be worse. Sometimes we chase the trends. Sometimes the trends chase us. In this case, I can’t help it if I’m trendy. I wear what I like (and what my mommy gives me).
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