Saturday musings

It's funny how music seems to become less entertaining as you grow older. As a teenager, popular music is fraught with meaning. It reaches the depths of your psyche and expresses your feelings so acutely that you want to listen to it over and over. The music of successive generations will never speak to you in the same way.

It's the same with clothes. The duds that were sooo cool when you were in high school are now amusing. When I was in grade school, the big boys were wearing taps on their loafers and beanies on their head. In a few years, the hineys would give way to the duck tail haircut and engineer boots.

I was never cool although I sometimes made lame attempts. In the eighth grade, I wore a plastic dog collar around one ankle because it was the fad. Pastel silk squares tied around the neck and demurely tucked under a pixie collar were also the rage. In the ninth grade, it was pop-it beads and knee socks with saddle shoes.

After a while, you begin to realize that style and fashion are for wimps and conformists. Being trendy only makes you one of the herd. Go ahead and shop at thrift stores and garage sales! Buy what you like and don't worry about what's hot in Paris!

My fashion sense tends towards dowdy. Therefore, I embrace dowdiness wholeheartedly. I'm
comfortable and bland and content.