I don’t pretend to understand the wild world of fashion.
Every once in awhile a trend pops up that I immediately feel a kinship to. I see a girl wearing baggy unkempt clothes and I’m like, whoa, we can do this again? Hobo chic? Awesome, I’ll pull out my sweatstained T-shirts. I’m about to be the hottest hobo in town.
On the whole, though, fashion is full of confusing styles and bizarre concepts that I can never quite keep up with. Even when I try. I’ll have brief periods where I decide to be on the cutting edge. I’ll buy the latest magazines with glossy covers proclaiming, “THE NEW SPRING FEVER: WEARING LAUNDRY BASKETS ON YOUR HEAD. WHICH COLOR LAUNDRY BASKET IS RIGHT FOR YOU? WICKER OR PLASTIC? THE ANSWERS, INSIDE!” Eagerly, I will go hunting for a laundry basket of my very own. I spend months considering prices, analyzing how each particular basket looked against my skin tone, making sure that the baskets I pick out aren’t too flashy or overstated. Finally, I go to the store to pick up the next month’s fashion magazine, laundry basket on my head, worn proudly at a rakish angle, and the cover screams, “THE TREND THAT IS SWEEPING THE NATION! TYING A CARBURETOR TO YOUR BUTT. MAKES YOUR WAIST LOOK SO TINY! NEWSFLASH, LAUNDRY BASKETS ARE SO OVER. WHAT ARE YOU, RETARDED? WHO EVEN DID THAT.”
And that is the point that I decide that high fashion is too much work and stick to Bulbasaur t-shirts for the next eight months.
So, on Saturday Brittney, Laura and I had a bit of a girl’s shopping day. We went antiquing, stopped in at a few stores, until we finally ended up at Nordstrom Rack where Laura was fervently searching for a proper pair of trousers. Brittney and I wandered the accessory section, making trouble.
Suddenly a piece of jewelry caught my eye. It was a gold necklace, dainty, thin, with a weird pendant on it. The pendant was hard white plastic, with a blue nub at one end. Shaped kind of like a periscope.
I examined it for a few minutes, sure that I had missed something.
“Brittney,” I said. “C’mere. Is this…look at this pendant. Is this a trend now? Is this a thing?”
Brittney looked at me silently.
“Like when all of those big metal hearts were popular. Is this the thing now? It looks like a pill or something. I guess it’s kind of cool.”
“Jessica,” Brittney said very slowly and very seriously. “That is the security tag.”
We stared at each other.
“Oh,” I said.
“Yes,” said Brittney.
“Er,” I said.
“I know,” said Brittney.
Cheeks flushed pink, I put the necklace back on the rack with an array of other gold necklaces with the same white plastic ‘pendant’. Brittney avoided looking at me for a few minutes, as though my stupidity were contagious. Then she giggled. Then she spluttered. And then we started laughing, rolling in the aisles as the more demure shoppers at Nordstrom Rack pretended not to notice.
“I cannot believe you,” Brittney chuckled.
“I would have worn it, too,” I said.
“I know,” said Brittney. “I love you.”