Can't (Probably Shouldn't) Touch This

So I'm of the age where, at least once a day, the passage of time is at the forefront of my mind. Whether its a new laugh line or the desire for neck surgery or the fact that I am now the coach and not the player, its there. Often. I'm also of the age where if I mention this to any number of my loved ones, they roll their eyes, call me a baby, and say "just you wait".

Today I am staking official claim on feeling old. I don't care if I am still occasionally carded when buying wine or that I wander into Bebe every now and then, which really should never be done by anyone larger than Twiggy (see, not really a spring chicken with that reference). Why, you ask. Because I've decided, after research and consideration, to opt out of fashion this season and I urge you women who also lived through the 80s to do the same.


I sat below the dryer at my salon, and, yes, its a salon, complete with tattooed assistants and uber-hip stylists in leather and 6 inch heels, although, in the interest of candor, I haven't changed my hair style in any meaningful way (save a mishap in Paris last year that cost 300 Euro [do you know the exchange rate!?] and a large measure of self-confidence) for over a decade. I was reading Elle's 20 must have fall fashion items and all I have to say is, in the spirit of Joan Rivers (just keeping the vintage consistent), can we talk? Of particular concern is the following:

Man Trousers: Okay, that's not exactly what the folks at Elle were calling them, but its close and it doesn't really matter, because what ever you call them is a mere euphemism for high-waisted, pleated slacks. PLEATED slacks, people! Did we not finally decide in the early 90s that, to our collective horror, a front pleat is never, ever our friend.
MC Hammer Pants: I'm sure there's a revamped name that taps into the collective conscious of the kids too young to remember "Can't Touch This", but they will always be MC Hammer pants to me. Not only is all that material a little less than comfortable to walk in, I'm not sure its ever a good idea to leave that much to the imagination in that particular region, if you know what I mean.
Neon: I think we called it fluorescent in the 80s, when I was 13 and it was okay to wear the particular shade of pink that sears the corneas. Fluorescent, neon, whatever you want to call it, its like a fling with the guy from the coffee shop--fun while it lasted, but it should never be revisited.
Shoulder Pads: Please refer to MC Hammer Pants comments and incorporate by reference comment from Man Trousers re: never being our friend.
And finally, my personal favorite:
Leather Shorts: And not just leather shorts, but high waisted leather shorts. There are so many things to say about leather shorts that if I have to spell them out, you might as well just buy a pair and find out yourself.

I emerged from the dryer and closed the Elle magazine, taking up silent arms against the fashion powers that be who are trying to bring back the mishaps that litter my old photo albums. And when I returned to my stylist's chair and she asked if I wanted something different, I looked down at my boot cut jeans and muted t-shirt, looked up proudly and said, no, don't touch it.