Recently I was putting together a travel wardrobe of lightweight items that might fit into a suitcase smaller than my kitchen table when I remembered the last time I tried to complete a seasonal wardrobe.
It was a few weeks before my partner and I would be driving up north for our annual lake vacation–those fabulous six days in July when our grown children and their five offspring join us at a big house on one of Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes.
I had already packed three pairs of sports pants–one with zippers that allow me to alter the length to mid-calf or shorts–plus a swim skirt to wear on the boat. I figured I needed one more pair of nicer, below-the-knee pants, (capris), to wear into the cute little town located about five miles from the lake. So I went to a shop near my house in Minneapolis because, a few years earlier, I had found stylish, wearable clothing in my size.
That day the attractive, amply built owner had told me she had recently dressed her mother-in-law, who was about my age, in several outfits from the shop. I believed her. So this time I entered the store with confidence.
Just to the left of the door was a rack of pastel linen tops with huge ruffles that were supposed to be sleeves. I tried to imagine walking into a party wearing a blouse that looked like the top of the home-made curtains I had hung in the living room of my first apartment in the late 1970s.
Nope, not my style.
I haven’t worn midriff tops since my twenties, so I passed those up, too, along with the wide, full-length, construction-weight jeans that were paired with them. “Over-exposed on top, hot and weighed down on the bottom,” I thought. Not exactly lake attire.
On display above me and along one wall were the kind of filmy linen dresses with thin straps that had looked great on me forty years earlier. But even at that age I hadn’t worn anything like the enormous puffed sleeves that dwarfed this summer’s cotton blouses—the ones that were hanging on the circular rack right next to me.
Remembering the story about the owner’s mother-in-law, I couldn’t believe the shop truly had nothing that would work for me. So I decided to wave at the young woman–the very young sales clerk–who walked toward me after ringing out the last customers.
“I’m looking for capris,” I said with an encouraging smile. “Maybe you don’t have any left?”
When she stumbled to find an answer, I wondered whether I had somehow offended her. After a long, uncomfortable silence, she finally said, in all politeness, “I’m sorry but we didn’t order capris this summer.”
It took about two seconds to understand. “Well then, I’m out of style!” I said with a chuckle.
“Oh no, no, I didn’t mean that,” she said.
Of course she did. But by now I was laughing out loud.
“I’m sure you didn’t, but if you don’t have capris, that means no one else does either,” I said. “Unfortunately, that length is what looks best on me, so I’ll have to remain out of style.”
She seemed quite relieved when I thanked her and returned to my car. But the encounter left me with some lingering questions.
Was I the only woman in Minneapolis who was still wearing capris? And if capris were no longer the fashion, what was? Apparently, I hadn’t noticed the shorts of various lengths, fabrics and colors hanging throughout the store, but a little trend research told me they must have been there.
Women my age can’t possibly be expected to wear shorts out to dinner, I thought, recalling my great relief when reasonable alternatives to hip-hugger and skinny jeans had finally returned to retail shelves a few years back.
During the summer of 2022, however, shorts seemed to be my only option if I meant to stay cool in something other than a full-length skirt or wide-legged pants, also unflattering for my body type.
And that brought up the question I always come to eventually, when I realize I’m slightly out of step: Why do I care?
That day I also wondered:
With whom am I out of step?
Whose approval do I hope to win?
Where’s my resolve to stop following fashion that doesn’t suit me?
Will it matter to anyone I really care about if I abandon trend-forward styles?
The truth is, I’ve always liked looking a little different. I’ve never truly wanted to be completely in sync with current fashion—something about being slightly off has always felt more authentic. It’s just that for me, being different these days means being out of style. And apparently, that suits me just fine.
Bring on the capris!