Of Crocs And Capris

When Ms. Meta wrote this post, which was picked up by MidLifeBloggers.com, I wanted to comment. In fact, I started to comment, but I had so much to say on the subject that I decided it merited its own post.

I really had an issue with the quote by Tim Gunn:

“Women in their ’40s should always try to avoid horizontal stripes, jackets that hit at mid-thigh, pleated pants, double-breasted blazers, Capri-length pants and low-rise jeans.”

Quite frankly, I don’t know who the hell Tim Gunn is, but according to him I’m a walking fashion faux pas. If women over 40 shouldn’t wear Capris-length pants, then just shoot me now; you’ll take my capris when you pry them off my cold, dead ass. The same goes for my mid-thigh jackets. I’ve got news for you, Mr. Gunn – I’m exactly five feet tall. Every jacket I’ve ever owned hits me at mid-thigh (the sleeves hit me at mid-shin). My slacks are almost all pleated because they hide that “you’ve had three kids and the last one was by C-section” tummy bulge extremely well and while I don’t own any double-breasted blazers it wouldn’t matter anyway because I’m not buttoning one up in this lifetime, let me tell you right now. A blazer’s sole purpose, in my wardrobe at least, is to camouflage my butt. Period.

Now, the horizontal stripes and low-rise jeans aren’t an issue. The stripes because anyone who grew up with my mother has an emotionally crippling horizontal stripe phobia; the mere thought of wearing horizontal stripes brings on a post-traumatic flashback of “No horizontal stripes! NOOOOO horizontal stripes! They make you look fat! FAAAAAAAAAT!” The next thing you know, you’re lying on the floor in the middle of Macy’s womens department sucking your thumb and whimpering. (I was in my 30s before I’d wear white for the same reason.)

As for low-rise jeans – you’ve GOT to be kidding me. When I was 10 years old, they were called “hip-huggers” (back in the days when it was socially acceptable to actually have hips). I didn’t wear them then, and I’m not about to wear them now. The entire free world may rejoice; I’ve just saved anyone who crosses my path from wanting to rip their eyeballs out with their bare hands. You all remain safely sighted. Besides, I have yet to find a pair of low-rise jeans with a gathered, elastic waist.

Ms. Meta’s Fashion For The Middled Aged post was spurred by an earlier post where she pondered if she was too old for Doc Martens, saying she wears them because they are so darn comfortable she never wants to take them off. Honestly, that is the basis for my (according to Darling Daughter) abnormal love of Crocs shoes. I shudder to think what Tim Gunn’s opinion of my collected footwear would be, but hey – at least it doesn’t consist entirely of 2 for $5 flip-flops from Old Navy. My Crocs are comfortable and they come in such a vast array of styles and colors that I have a pair that will coordinate with just about any pair of capris I own, which is saying something. Yes, I do own dress shoes, but not one of them has a heel over an inch-and-a-half; my days of wearing 6-inch stilettos outside of the bedroom are long behind me.

Thank gawd. For, like Ms. Meta, “I’ve reached an age when I’m no longer willing to be a slave to fashion if it HURTS.” So, if you happen to see a really short, dumpy middle-aged woman with curly brown yet gently graying hair, metallic pink bifocals, wearing an oversize pink-and-lime vertical striped shirt over a lime green tank with white capris and hot pink Crocs, she’s making a statement. She’s comfortable and could look a helluva lot worse.

Coming Out of the Closet

The other day, I was hunting around for a pair of sandals I have that would go perfectly with one of the new outfits I bought over Mother’s Day weekend, when I realized – dare I say it? – I own a LOT of shoes.

I love shoes, and it probably has a lot to do with the fact that my hands and feet are the only parts of me, except maybe my earlobes, that could be described as “small” or “dainty.” My feet, unlike my ass, look good in just about anything so I tend to indulge myself in that area.

Need proof?

My shoe rack

No, these are not the only shoes I own. Notice how they are neatly put away in the rack that hangs on the back of our closet door? They’re there because I don’t wear them anymore. HERE are the shoes I wear:

Shoes I wear

Now to be fair, one of the reasons they’re all tossed in a heap in there is because more than half of the floor of MY side of the closet is occupied with luggage. And why is our luggage laying on the bottom of our closet and not put away somewhere neatly, like the storage area in the basement? Because Beloved is in charge of the luggage, which is a semi-permanent fixture in his life. So why isn’t the luggage on HIS side of the closet? Because then his side of the closet wouldn’t look like this:

Beloved's Shoes

Note that there is some semblance of order to his side. Why? NO LUGGAGE. You might also take note of the fact that he has a lot of freakin’ shoes himself, for a guy. And take my word, there is not one cheap pair of shoes over there, and there are certainly no shoes from PayLess in this lineup. With the exception of my many pairs of Crocs, I do not own one pair of name-brand shoes, which is more (or less) than I can say for Beloved.

OH – and speaking of Crocs, looky at what I bought Tuesday:

Crocs Golf Shoes!

Guess what they are? No, not ugly (shut up, Darling Daughter). They are GOLF SHOES. PINK CROCS GOLF SHOES. I do believe I’ve died and gone to golf shoe heaven. (Yes, I play golf. Poorly.)

Darling Daughter would like me to allow her to state her case about the ugliness of my wonderful, comfortable Crocs by posting this picture we found on I Can Has Cheezburger yesterday:

Cat in Crocs

That’s what I get for raising them to think for themselves.

A Senior Moment

When I was posting the other day about my Crocs collection, I don’t know how I could have possibly forgotten about these:

Cowboys Crocs

I guess they slipped my mind because I’ve only owned them since December. And they don’t really go with any of my clothes except my Tony Romo jersey.

Tony Romo, the little hottie. I’d go on a rant about his choice of girlfriends, but I am simply not up to it.

The Ultimate First Sign of Spring

No, it’s not that the pussywillow tree right outside of the kitchen is about to explode with beautiful, fragrant blooms. No, it’s not that my daffodils are coming up. It’s because I wore these today:

Pink Crocs!!

Yes! I was able to wear a pair of my beloved Crocs today!! I love these things. My daughter says they’re the most hideous shoes she’s ever laid eyes on (that’s what I get for raising a snobbish fashionista), but I adore them. They are comfortable, durable and WASHABLE. And, by golly, they come in such a dazzling array of absolutely eye-watering colors that if they won’t coordinate or compliment your wardrobe, they’ll certainly make your feet stand out.

I have four pair of the Crocs Beach model, pictured above. Fuschia, Lavender, Kelly Green and Celery (funny, I could have sworn they were hot pink, purple, bright green and light green, but what do I know – I’m just some middle-aged woman with a penchant for shoes). So you can imagine my utter delight – and my husband’s resignation – when they began making all sorts of shoes…and how my Crocs collection has grown.

Crocs PatraI own a pair of the Patra…

Crocs Cleo…and my absolute favorite so far, the Cleo…

Crocs Mammoth…and even a pair of these, the Mammoth (okay, so I wore Crocs all winter, too, but it’s just not the same).

Then today, browsing their site, I saw THESE:

Crocs AdaraThe Adara! They are cute, cute, cute!

That sound you hear is my husband groaning while he tries to hide my credit cards.