Previously on this blog I’ve waxed lyrical about the joys of aging. Its not so much that aging is a joyful experience in itself but its unavoidable. As there’s no escaping it, one may as well make it a pleasurable experience. As I find myself on the down hill slope I fully intend to zoom down it like a black run at Thredbo. Yet this week I find I’m scaring myself with the sheer pace of the descent which is becoming more of a landslide than a thrill ride.
This week I had business in the city. I wore last season’s Laura Ashley dress. Yes you read that right. I have a Laura Ashley dress tucked away for business occasions. Its a brand I used to despise. It speaks of executive wives and Young Liberals, basically the antithesis of everything my op shop clad younger self used to stand for. Nowadays I love Laura’s chintzy floral patterns. It adds a dash of cheer and femineity to the dreary corporate uniform of blacks and grays. Gezuz I’m echoing my mother!
Wearing Laura Ashley is bad enough but that is not the worst of it. Having completed my meeting I hit the shops and ended up in Sportscraft. Not Sportsgirl but Sportscraft. It was me and the warrior princesses of the gray army. Middled aged, middle class and darn proud of it. I spent way too much of my husband’s cash on these ensembles.
If I were going to a Church concert (as in the band not the institution although some may argue that the rock band The Church are an institution or belong in one), I’d wear these pants as a homage to the Heyday period.
While I am in the process of scaring myself I have to admit that I find lead singer Steve Kilby still rather crumpety for a rock n roll dinosaur and recovering heroin addict.
Fancying Aussie rock n roll has beens is nowhere near as frightening as the phenomena that is One Direction. On a trip to The Big W I was confronted by this and felt compelled to document it.
Its a miniature army of clones primed for the destruction of rock n roll. They are infinitely more terrifying close up. Harry looks like something from The Walking Dead.
One would think that these dollies would be enough to have me dash screaming back to my car in horror, averting my eyes from this abomination as I fled. Rock n roll is being massacred at a Westfield near you.
Undeterred I journeyed deeper into the abyss because nothing would stop me on my epic quest to find a pair of three quarter length pants. Like finding Kurtz in Heart of Darkness* I track ed down my prize in Suzanne Grae. Shudder. I can never look my uber cool 14 year old niece in the eye with pride again. I have sunk to unimaginable depths and am now shopping in old lady stores. You know what – they cover all my bad bits and are really, really comfortable. Oh dear god – I am sounding more and more like my mother with every sentence.
I can only wonder what’s next – Hush Puppies?
Should I just go the whole hog and start shopping at Millers?
* Classic novel by Joseph Conrad. We had to study it for English in Year 11.