I’m catching up on my reading this weekend and I just read about the demise of the Sigrid Olsen label at Liz Claiborne. Not that I have ever bought her clothes…but I am a fan. I’m more of a fan from the standpoint of what her clothes represent for the mature woman…the mature woman that I am. They are free-spirited…earthy fabrics…too wide for my body…but I really did love her advertisements too.
As the New York Times said, “It is a curious development in the fickle business of fashion that clothing labels like Ms. Olsen’s, made by and for the baby boomer generation, are among those being hardest hit by the current economic turmoil and retail entrenchment.” My other favorite labels like Ellen Tracy and Dana Buchman (again, not that I bought or could afford to buy that many of their clothes) are also being sold off.
What is happening to these lines of clothing targeted to the mature woman? I’d like to tell them about one of their targets…about me. After I read this it made me think about my passion for fashion and how betwixt and between I am as I approach the second half of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I am still a fashionista who gets excited by the thought of the September issues of Vogue and InStyle…the issues that barely fit in my mailbox (glad I fixed my mailbox so it is nice and sturdy for my September mail)…but I’m not as avid a buyer as I used to be. No, I’m not. Could it be…oh dear…that my focus on fashion is shifting?
Yes, I think that is exactly it. My focus on fashion is shifting as my life is changing. I’m starting to focus more on the inner me instead of the outer me…and maybe some of my fellow mature fashionistas are doing the same. Yes, maybe that is why baby boomer fashions are hurting. My fellow baby boomer women and I have closets full of clothes after many years and shopping doesn’t excite us like it used to.
Instead of running to the store to purchase a new fall skirt or sweater…I’m running to the beach to relax and watch the little sandpipers make their little footprints across the sand.
Instead of buying a new pair of shoes, I’m spending the money on reflexology for my feet so I can walk better and my body can feel better. And I’m getting pedicures so my feet look pretty while I relax and walk on the beach. (Just love those pedicures when they put my feet in the whirlpool and cut my toenails…yes, it is harder to bend over now to cut my own toenails…I cannot see them as well when I’m not wearing my progressive eyeglasses.)
Instead of splurging on an accessory, I’m splurging on a facial so my face stays firm and my wrinkles recede. (Just love those facials…and I haven’t had one in awhile since I’m racing to the beach each weekend…have to put facials back on the fall ‘to-do’ list.)
Instead of getting excited to shop for myself, I’m excited about shopping for my 18 year old son. My son who is going off to college in a few weeks to pursue his ambitions in hospitality. Yes, I was so excited on Friday night when I bought him his first Calvin Klein gray houndstooth suit from the Men’s Department at Macy’s…yes, the Men’s Department…not the Boy’s Department. I shed tears of joy as he paraded out of the dressing room in a men’s small that actually fit him…oh, how handsome he looked and will look when he goes to all his hospitality socials.
While my clothes shopping may be waning for myself, I am so proud that I have passed on my sense of style and fashionista-ness to my son…it makes me so happy to see him carrying on this important family trait. (Note: I do not want to imply that my 22 year old daughter is not a fashionista. It’s just I don’t have to worry about her…she has 100 percent fashionista-ness deeply inbedded in her spirit and soul…so I don’t have to worry about her at all.)
Instead of picking out the colors for my fall wardrobe…I’m picking out the colors for the polymeric sand that is going to be poured on my front walkway (hopefully soon) between all the gray bricks…the bricks that now lie perfectly flat thanks to the beautiful work that my landscapers did last week. Yes, I paid a hefty sum to flatten my walkway and fix the steps that are in front of my house. And, when the landscaper told me that I would never have to pull a weed from my front walkway once the polymeric sand was laid…I jumped for joy…just like I used to jump for joy when I found a beautiful jacket or pants outfit I liked. (Note: Only this time I jumped even higher with joy for the polymeric sand is just an amazing invention.)
As I await my September fall fashion issues and I ponder the demise of Sigrid Olsen’s clothing line, I am so glad to learn that Sigrid is looking into “arranging women’s retreats to encourage creative discussion or teaming up with a hotel to create a Sigrid Olsen resort experience”…as the Times stated at the end of the article. I do hope she sends me an invitation…because I might just pay a visit.