Tucking stuff in.
I vividly remember shopping with my friend and her mom as a child, and watching as she vehemently protested her mother's advice to "tuck it in!"
So unflattering. So old lady-ish. So uncool.
So what's changed?
Well, I'd venture to say that, aside from the fact that breaking my hip officially makes me 95 years old internally, I'm reaching that stage in life in which I don't always love looking frumpy.
Sometimes, I like to pretend that my outfits have some sort of cohesiveness - even if they're . . . well, less than ace. My solution? Tuck in my shirt as if it's a leotard.
Not only do I love that it looks a bit more . . . adult, but as long as the pants sit high enough, I sort of dig the silhouette as well.
Only with spandex shirts, though. I'll pass on the tire-in-stomach effect.
And it's especially good with unprofessional bottoms. The slick look of the top looks cool against denim cut offs, boyfriend jeans, baggy sweats, etc . . .
But it does make me wonder; how could something that once so strongly repelled me, now compel me? Is my aesthetic changing? Like my new found affinity for cream cheese?
Or is the context simply different?
Maybe the appeal is in the fact that I can now decide for myself whether to tuck or untuck. Maybe, with no one instructing me, the decision to be uncool is a lot more . . . cool. And for any of you out there as stubborn as myself, you'll get what a difference this ability to self-destruct makes.