Style: the Arbitrary Scale

 They are everywhere.  Lurking around corners and hiding in dark alleys, waiting to strike.  Cue the frightening music; lock up your children, because here they come.  What is this menace?  Why do the women cry in the streets, covering their children’s eyes?

They are peplums.   A fad originated in the nineteen-forties, they are best defined as a short, flared ruffle set about the waist.   Toning down from the dramatic intro, I find this current trend ridiculous.  Somehow, they have managed to infiltrate themselves into the designs of dresses, jackets, blouses, and even skirts.  Beyond their odd appearance and impracticality, I find them most unflattering!  For a culture that prides itself on style, we have made a mistake re-introducing this fashion.  As women we are proud of our hips, but not so proud that we wear an accentuating piece of fabric that, in all honesty, more closely resembles an upside-down muffin wrapper than a ruffle.  It is as if a designer had an extra lamp shade lying around, and, looking to get it out of the way, set it on a partially completed dress that hung off a mannequin.  Designer number two came in, and out of respect for designer number one, said nothing of this odd adornment.  Each too afraid to confront the other, the peplum-ed dress was mass created, and sold to the public at large as “trending.”    

Which brings me to my main point: as a society, how much of what we wear is actually based on personal likes and dislikes?  Such a large focus is put on style and appearance, but how often do we really love the clothing and accessories we wear?   Do we feel beautiful when we look in the mirror, confident that our outfit compliments and accentuates our body, or do we simply wear what is popular?  American society seems to measure style more on what it represents, than its actual appearance.  Current trend and popular style are nothing more than arbitrary scales upon which we measure wealth, social standing, and intelligence.   A woman branding a Vera Bradley hand bag will be respected and complimented; surely she is well put-together and in tune with society.  Are we nothing more than the crowd staring at the naked emperor, pretending to agree out of fear of humiliation?  Surely I cannot be the only one who protests, crying out “He is not wearing any clothing!”  Women should wear what they want: what makes them feel beautiful.  If that happens to be a muffin-wrapper accent, more power to you.  But please, don’t find yourself shrinking away in a dark place to avoid embarrassment, because you still love your one-sleeved cocktail dress.  I certainly do mine.