Being a recent college graduate, I was left with the storybook ending of starting my "professional, adult" life -- while still having a boyfriend in college. This poses my life revolving around wearing high waisted skirts, Lacoste polos and Rebecca Beeson tops on Monday-Friday. Saturday and Sunday I reintroduce myself to Juicy Couture hoodies, flip flops and collegiate tees. I feel the blending of these two styles on any given day. No one at work bats an eye if I stroll into work wearing my twentysomething Hollywood starlet styled aviators, or one of my many graphic tees during casual Fridays (the best thing to occur in offices since paychecks). However, I find my style increasingly more off-color in the college atmosphere.
Case in point. Last night, I pulled out my inappropriate camo mini for an army themed party. Paired with a brown babydoll top, I tossed a black Juicy zip-up over to shield myself from the New England wind. I stroll into the party to find multitudes of amazingly younger looking girls (since when do they allow 16 year olds in college?) all looking like they stepped out of Miley Cyrus' music video for '7 Things.' One girl strolled into the party wearing what looked like a camo sarong, which was really just a piece of scrap fabric. I saw American Eagle (ew) jeans with buttoned over back pockets. I saw so many off-the-shoulder army tees that I thought that Jessica Simpson circa 2000 had come back to western Massachusetts.
Me? My feet were screaming for designer shoes and my legs felt exposed and all I wanted was a Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress on. I think this means that I've officially grown up, and I think that should be a good thing, but, rather, it's left me confused. In a few years, when these little girls enter the workforce, will their style evolve too into the more subdued shades of black and designer, or will I be looking at them from my office shaking my head? Regardless, this weekend I am walking amongst Bratz dolls. Any readers in the Amherst area? Feel free to find me, I'm easily recognizable in my conservative and modest Seven for all Mankind jeans. Heaven forbid my legs are covered up on a Saturday night.
