I went shopping a couple of weekends ago. The intention of this shopping expedition, given that it was the weekend after I moved house, was to buy a whole lot of homewares stuff that my housemate and I had realised we no longer had, because it had all belonged to our respective former housemates *sigh*
I had the best intentions, really I did. I bought things like cereal bowls, and cutlery, and glasses with cherry blossom patterns on them, and all manner of kitchen utensils unrelated to baking. But after that, I decided I'd spent quite enough time being an adult and wandered off in search of more exciting things to spend money on.
Which came in the form of some awesome black satin peep toe heels for my mum's birthday party next weekend, and $42 worth of food colouring. Unfortunately, the latter is NOT a joke. I really did spend that much on food colouring...
Anyway, I was wandering through the clothing section of Target, and doing my usual mocking of hideous things when I realised that everything looked vaguely familiar. And not just because I spend far too much time in the clothing section of Target (which I do, I should add...). After racking my brains for a couple of minutes, it finally hit me.
It was 1993, Redux. There were racks of leggings. Shelves of fuzzy pastel cardigans. A mountain of floral print skirts and tops of Laura Ashley-esque patterns. But the most horrifying of all came in the form of denim. Denim shirts, to be precise. With pearly press studs in place of buttons.
It was these that finally made me realise why the clothes looked familiar. On my tenth birthday, I wore jeans with a light denim shirt that had pearly press studs in place of buttons, and which also featured some spectacular embroidery down the front. And I had a pair of appallingly ugly light blue leggings with giant pink flowers all over them. It really was the most delightful fashion statement of the decade...
Anyway, my point is this. Once you've realised that the fashions of your childhood have come around again, there's no going back. You can't convince yourself that the clothes are appealing or flattering or anything other than a horrifying memory that should have stayed in the past. So I don't think I'll be buying much this season.
Here's hoping the summer fashions replicate a less memorable and traumatic year for fashion. 1982, for example. My hair's so frizzy from the dry winter air that a perm really wouldn't make that much of a difference!!!