Sunday, April 24, 2011

Shirley Sunday: Lady in red...and green...and purple...plaid.

My mother is what I like to call "fashion unconscious." Sometimes I wonder if she's colorblind, or if she really thinks that day-glo green and vomit yellow go together. As an artist, it makes me a bit nuts.

Along with an amazing inability to recognize color complements, she has no idea of flattering cut or patterns. At my high school graduation she wore a blazer that was smattered liberally with giant pink roses. From the stage the jacket looked as if she was wearing a bunch of giant vaginas on an ill fitting suit jacket.

Mind you, she thinks she has an idea of what's current and in fashion, and wants to bestow her opinions on whoever she can. At my wedding, she changed my wedding colors so that they matched the ugly PINK AND MAROON silk bouquet she wanted me to carry. My bridesmaids dresses were ungodly ugly. They ended up with a floor length maroon gown with maroon lace cap sleeves. I was ashamed they had to wear that for me, but by the time I saw them there was no time to redo things. I later found out that mom picked out my flowers to match her dress, which was maroon, and she wanted the bridesmaids to look like her. Ick.

My mother has an unnatural attachment to wearing suit jackets and slacks. Not just any normal suit jacket either. I have counted, and the number of black and white checked suit jackets she owns is astronomical. She pairs them with bright red or navy pants. Then there's the ill-fitting grey suit, that probably would look better on her if she gained 100 pounds. It would also help if she would stop pulling her slacks up to her nipples. (OH GOD! I just talked about my mother's nipples! Where is the bleach? I need to pour some in my ear to make the image go away!)

So yeah, when I was growing up, my mother liberally sprayed my wardrobe with ugly and unfashionable. I cannot count the number of polyester train wrecks that I wore because she said that was what was in style. She had me so brainwashed back then that I actually believed her! Yes, this means that up until about sophomore year of high school I dressed like a douche canoe. (That one's for you Bloggess...)

I am slowly encouraging mom to recycle her old wardrobe into quilt pieces and wear some things I have found that actually complement her skin tone, color range and body type. I'm not asking for Cindy Crawford, but I'd be satisfied with Betty White.

To Golden Girls and Old Biddies,

Love and Laughter,
-Kat Lady