The Short Life of Fashion

The man in the tan sansabelt pants and polyester shirt - his hairpiece just a fraction out place - set a pricey bottle of wine on the counter, gave me a grim look, and ordered me to have it chilled. My pleasure, I told him smartly and hoped to God that he would turn his back to me and return to his table before I broke down laughing. His wife, a substantial blonde barely contained in her form fitting capri pants and push up bra, wore a pasted on, frozen smile that never wavered while her glassy eyed stare seemed to be locked in place. Perhaps, I thought, the result of only having one contact lens in place - the effect of her one blue and one brown eye was startling. I filled an ice bucket and began the process of chilling the expensive chardonnay, all the while trying to erase the image of those stretchy tan pants and those mismatched eyes, wondering if this particular colorful couple might live in a house without the benefit of mirrors.

Let me be perfectly clear - I am a jeans and t shirt gal from the get go and these days spend my working days in scrubs and running shoes. I am not a fashion statement in any language and as a rule do not judge those around me in terms of apparel. But sansabelts? And multi colored artificial eyes? All tied together with arrogance? It was simply too much and as I watched them walk back to the table - well, to be perfectly accurate, he swaggered and she tottered, maintaining a vise like grip on his arm - it was nearly impossible to maintain any professionalism.
Even on those days when I slink into the grocery store in dark glasses and my floppy straw hat, sans makeup or teeth and dodging any familiar face, even on those days I am careful to keep a low profile and stay anonymous. Recognition is to be avoided at all costs and calling attention to myself borders on sin. Not only am I a sight, I am perfectly aware that I'm a sight and prefer to keep it a private matter.

Out of curiousity, I looked up sansabelts - introduced in 1959 and still, much to my surprise, available and going strong some 50 odd years later - just as unflattering and foolish now as they were then. And here I was thinking they had gone the way of sousaphones and nehru jackets.

Then again, possibly I have misjudged the short life of fashion.