The Fashion Gene

I like clothes, I like shopping, I like reading about fashion. Ok, there, I got it out. Yet another confession. This from the girl who went to Berkeley (where the school uniform was birkenstocks and painter's overalls), and who expanded her closet when she was young and poor simply by wearing her husband's clothes. But little by little, my interest in fashion began to assert itself. Not that anyone would know by looking. But I knew because of ... (see first sentence). It was unsquelchable, so it must be genetic, right Mom?

All that by way of saying Durf and I took another NY showroom fashion tour yesterday. This time Durf served as fashion consultant to about a dozen women. I think he enjoys it when other women ask him how they look. And he's a great pack mule.

Yesterday was particularly fun because of the camaraderie, which was lacking in the first tour. The women on this tour were interested in soliciting everyone's opinion about everything they put on. And let me tell you, everyone had an opinion. "Ewwww no, wrong color!" "Oh, honey, you are way too short for that dress."

The designers also offered their own advice in answer to questions such as, "How short can I go at my age without looking like Tammy Faye Baker?" "Do I need breast enhancements to wear this dress?"

I know, I know, it all sounds terribly superficial, but boy was it fun!