Recently there was an article in the LA Times about the Iranian Fashion Police. Ali Kadkhodazadeh, a social scientist who writes for Iranian newspapers said, "The irony is that as long as a crackdown or enforcement of the code-of-dress law is seriously underway, we can see obedience. But as soon as they let up, the coiled spring jumps back even harder."
I used to have the equivalent of the Iranian fashion-police in my own head. Loud and merciless. For years, I judged and 'status-ized' other women for the clothing choices they made. Then one day, in my daughter's pediatrician's office, I got a break from my own harsh and nasty policing. It was like my brain put on the brakes and jumped to a different loop of thinking. Maybe I was just tired of the endless judging and lamenting about how the world and other people should look.
This incredibly competent and warm-hearted doctor wore a Hawaiian shirt with ill-fitting khaki Bermudas. Almost invisible under this ugly cover was a very pretty woman. I realized that what she wore is what's out there. The women I admire are almost all like her. I love them for what they do, not how they dress.
I think about clothes all the time. I earn my living designing clothes. It's all I do, all day long. I design what I wear, and I have access to other designer's vision. I am required to be up-to-date on what's out there and I read the magazines and check out the runways on style.com.
This is a full-time job, even before I get to the designing and manufacturing part of my profession. I know where the cool and hip stores are, who they carry and when they hold their sales. Dressing well as a woman over forty means spending a lot of time and having access to a lot of resources. But on some days, even I am too intimidated to step into those stores.
It's not like we can walk into Forever 21 or H&M and pick our wardrobe in the course of two hours and not spend more than $300, like my 15-year old daughter does. Almost all women are busy with other stuff. They don't have the time or the interest to spend hours and money on tracking down age-appropriate and chic clothing. They have a life. Its not that they would not love to be pretty and well dressed, its just too much effort.
Still, now that I have stopped to judge other women -- does my 15 year-old need guidance on what is appropriate? I am not talking about the "Modesty Movement". She and her friends usually cover up and are mortified about showing a bra-strap by accident.
But then I caught a glance of her MySpace profile where she showed herself off in a gold bikini-top. She resembled an "American Apparel" model, slightly stoned, fresh out of bed tousled, and oblivious about this effect. What's a mother who designs fashion for a living to do?