My mother-in-law (whom I never fail to criticize whenever I can) has a really interesting talent. No, calm down, a good talent this time. Every Christmas she buys me a sweater I would never ever buy for myself. One I usually look down at in the box and say "hmm. ok. well that's....nice?" But what's funny is I almost always end up trying it out on those infamous laundry days, finding that I really like it, and wearing it. Witness the red fleece vneck.

I don't (usually) wear red. Really up until this past inexplicable pink phase whenever I go out in public I've stuck with black, sometimes khaki, usually a crisp white button down shirt. Now I just wear black, sometimes khaki, usually crisp white button-down shirts, and pink. (The punk rock pajama party cat wear is my little private home thing. I like people with layers to them ya know?)

So it seems that my tastebuds change way more often than every seven years; maybe it's my fashion taste that only changes roughly once a decade.

Anyway, in 1998 (I think) my mother-in-law gave me a red polar fleece vneck sweater. Which has become like the perfect family christmas party sweater. Especially in New Mexico and especially when I was still smoking. Here in the land of 70 degree days 30 degree nights the key to survival is layering: wearing a camisole with a built in bra under a white men's undershirt (optional) under a button down under a sweater under a coat. Get hot? Remove a layer or two. That polar fleece shit is warm in the snow but somehow I don't overheat if I keep it on indoors - which is a rare treat in any shirt really. The red was festive but I could still just pull it on over a button down shirt and look nice. And somehow she chooses the right size too. So I should have a little more faith in her annual christmas sweaters right?

Nope. Every year I am baffled by the sweater purchase until I actually wear it. And sometimes it takes a few times even then to appreciate the usefulness of the sweater.

I was even more dubious about Xmas 2004's purchase: a cream knit cotton blend poncho. Have to admit I've done a good bit of mental mockery of this poncho fad - mostly involving the surreal quality of women trying to look like shepherds while still wearing spiky slut shoes. This retro 70s fashion turn just makes me laugh and laugh. Most fashion trends look like epic jokes to me anyway.

I have seen photographs of my sister and I in matching lime green crocheted poncho/tam o' shanter sets in 1977. I believe there were also some brown vinyl zip up boots involved as well - which very well could have come from the sears catalog. So when I first read of this poncho resurgence my attitude was: "I am a 70s fashion veteran I don't need to relive the horrors." Have to admit, while I envy all these crazy feminist knitters out there I have done a bit of snickering over the poncho patterns.

This one certainly isn't handmade but just a plus-size wal mart brand - Denim Blues or something - and even though I don't consider myself much of a clothing label whore it takes a lot for me to admit this in such a public forum: it's lightweight and, dare I say it, kind of cute. Not too heavy, certainly not itchy, the perfect thing for me to wear at the computer. And somehow it goes so well with this pure grace scent. Both simple and a little modern.

It still makes me look like a shepherdess. But I'm wearing big pink fuzzy slippers instead of big spiky slut shoes. Not a fashion victim am I!

Comments

Posted by: Susan at January 26, 2005 10:05 PM

Posted by: Jennynyc at January 26, 2005 10:57 PM

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