I have a friend who is fashionable. She wore mostly black long before anyone else I know did. She can pair a bargain blouse with the bottom half of a designer suit bought last year and pull the whole thing together with a wild scarf. And she has an uncanny knack for figuring out what those extraordinary creations modeled on the runways of Paris and New York mean && for the rest of us back home in real life.
I often turn to her for advice.
Yesterday, over lunch, she said that something called "artifice" is in.
What's that? I wondered. I know that according to the dictionary, artifice is "skill or ingenuity; trickery or craft." And I can't imagine what that has to do with how women look.
So she explained.
This year's style is fake. It's imitation. It's downright weird. Thinglitz and shimmer, then turn up the wattage.
Designers must have taken a second look at last year's outfitmade in sweet pastels and simply gone berserk. They've traded in the subdued colors of nature, which were all the rage the past few years, for a space-age, ultra-urban, paint-by-number palette. Remember those spring dresses made last year in pure cotton or linen? Buy new ones now -- in vinyl.
All the models, even elegant Isabella Rossellini and pale-faceKate Moss, seem to be cultivating the plastic-is-pretty look. Green glitter, the fashion powers are insisting, looks good -- not on Halloween costumes, but on eyelids. Hair these days isn't done until it looks "done." Then it's sprayed to stay.
Purple fur (or any unlikely hue!) is cool. And toss out those clunkblack boots that looked so ungainly but felt so good: Everyone's wearing stiletto heels, studded with sequins or shimmering in silver or black-and-gold. Even espadrilles come in patent leather.
Oh, and clothing is form-fitting, now. Those big, comfortable sweaters that were worn over black tights are a thing of fashion's past. Deep cleavage and teeny-tiny waists are the rage. Naturally, some of these outfits may be a bit harder to squeeze into. Not to worry: The stores are filled with push-up, tighten-up, firm-up, just-don't-breathe-out undergarments. Just keep a stiff upper lip and stuff yourself in.
What has happened? I wondered. In this age of feminist awareness, how could designers think women would welcome apparel like this? How could fashion directors think that we, women of the real world, would give up the "natural look" we've been wearing for the last few years? Women should dress comfortably, the way they want, the way that suits them best -- naturally. That's what I do, I thought self-righteously.
Then I remembered. I've been known to have near-nervoubreakdowns minutes before I'm due at a party because nothing in my closet looks right. To my chagrin, entire afternoons of my life have been eaten up by my determination to find pantyhose that don't sag -- and still come in a complimentary shade. And I should admit that it takes 2 1/2 gobs of mousse and at least 15 minutes (not including blow-dry time) for me to coax my unruly hair into an appealing look au naturel.
But I don't think I'm alone: Women in the United States spend nearly $68 billion on clothing annually; they spend $2.9 billion on hosiery and approximately $30 billion on cosmetics.
Maybe the "natural look" I've been struggling to maintain isn't snatural after all. Maybe it isn't the real us.
Real, come to think of it, is a run in your hose on the day of the big job interview. It's a 100 percent linen skirt that bunches up when you sit down at your desk -- and stays bunched when you stand up again. Real is accidentally sleeping late and heading out to work in whatever outfit was closest to the door.
You know what? Now that I think about it, I've worked hard tlook "natural." Perhaps fake will be easier.
Or maybe I should just get real and go out looking the way I want.