Balmania!

I have succumbed.  Yes, it's true.  After months upon months of ranting about my distaste for Christophe Decarnin's aesthetic, I have put together an outfit inspired by recent Balmain collections.

I'm not even sure why I found the style so detestable.  I mean, I'm sure I could have come up with some bullshit excuse about how it objectifies women, but in a way, all fashion does that (well, at least most).  Or I could admit to being some moral crusader opposed to the whole body-con trend in general and the baring of far too much female skin.  That is not the case either, however.

I think it had something to do with the popularity of the whole thing.  The way it drove cheap knock-offs that showed up in the hallways of my high school, creating a delightfully tacky little trend that somehow epitomized the Jersey shore.

But I've gotten over all of that.  I've accepted the trend, realizing that it's tacky re-incarnations do not have to drive my interpretation.  So, without further ado, I present you my Balmain-inspired outfit, epaulets and all:

The shirt was found at Annie Sez, the skirt is American Apparel, the necklace was stolen from my little sister, and.... I can't remember where the boots are from.

I actually ruined this necklace in order to complete my look.  It originally had a brown elephant attached.  Oh, the sacrifices we make for fashion....

Epaulet detail.

And now you can post all of your smug commentary about my hypocrisy for abandoning the anti-Balmain cause, or praise me for seeing the light.  But I'm still allowed to advertise my distaste for Herve Leger, right?

I can't wait until I'm old

As soon as I become a grandma, I am going to wear whatever strikes my fancy, everyone else and their opinions be damned.

I want to be something of an Anna Piaggi once I reach senior-citizen status.

Instead of getting weird looks, I'll be impossibly cool.  Maybe I'll sit around in Christian Dior couture gowns, gloves up to my elbows, smoking out of a long cigarette holder and drinking tea out of ornate teacups.

"Dahhling, would you be lovely and fetch me my diamonds?  The ones John gave me back in the 10's?"

I could attend the shows in silk pajama bottoms and jeweled flats.  I could paint my nails a taxi cab yellow (oh, wait.... I do that anyway). Or perhaps I'll die my hair a violent shade of red.... The possibilities are really endless when people are too scared of you dropping dead at any second to tell you no.

Old age isn't looking so bad after all.