Style

I just returned from my biannual trip to our local shopping mall, empty-handed. I’m also experiencing heart palpitations and an overwhelming desire to curl up into the fetal position. I might as well come clean with you right away. I don’t know how to shop.

Growing up on an isolated Midwestern farm where the largest retail center was at least an hour away, my experiences in the world of clothing selections were limited, at best. My mother was a gifted seamstress and sewed most of my clothing until I was in my mid-teens (thanks, mom!). My clothing decisions were more likely to involve selecting a pattern and a bolt of cloth. I did not need to scan endless racks of clothing options and start the daunting process of finding something that fits.

Now that I am on my own for wardrobe decisions, I’m not only still struggling, but I think I’m getting worse. Stacy and Clinton of What Not to Wear would certainly have their hands full with me. If I was asked about my fashion point of view, I would have to admit that it’s no more grand than just wearing something that isn’t repulsive. If that blouse passes the sniff test in the morning and the stains are less than obvious, it’s good to go for another day.  My signature style is wearing clothing that has been baptized by a coffee spill or two.

I’m also amazed at how long it can take to find something that actually fits. Frankly, I’m not so sure I’ve found anything that qualifies as an exact fit. My body type is what those in polite circles would call “curvy.” That’s code speak for hippy, and not in a flower child sort of way. There is no litheness or willowyness in my body structure. I am sturdily built, able to withstand strong prairie winds. If I actually find a pair of jeans that fit, I buy multiple copies--no use going through additional trauma looking for variety. If that blouse doesn’t tug too tightly over the bosom and has no horizontal stripes, buy it. If my blood sugar starts plunging, grab a package of underwear and call it a day.

So, who really determines style? No surprise that the media is a large player in this process. Yes, princess Kate is a stylin’ diva, whether it’s Old Navy or Prada. But, what about those of us without a castle’s worth of money and unlimited preening opportunities?

I am reminded of a true story I read several years ago. I’ve forgotten many of the details, but the essence of it is this. A contest was held by a company that was in search of a beautiful, “everyday” woman to sponsor one of their products. Hundreds of people sent in nomination letters describing the beautiful women in their lives.  As the selection committee worked its way through the mountain of letters, they were struck by a letter written by a young boy.

“My neighbor lady is the most beautiful lady in the world. She plays games with me. She doesn’t yell at me if my puppy digs in her garden. She likes butterflies. She gives me a band-aid if I need one. She doesn’t make me play with my little sister if I don’t want to. And she bakes the best chocolate chip cookies in the world. I think you should pick her as the winner for your contest.”

After reading the letter, the selection committee took a look at the picture of the little boy’s friend. They were immediately struck by how plain and homely the elderly lady was. This was certainly not the woman they had pictured in their minds as they read the letter. But, to the young lad, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Would that we all had that kind of style.