Tell me you’ve gone shopping only to look around the store thinking to yourself, “Um, when did this store quit selling clothes I can wear?”  Tell me I’m not the only one!

It is quite evident that many of us are no longer 21-years-old.  That being said, we understand that shopping in the juniors section of a store is probably not appropriate for us.  However, we are thirty and forty-somethings, not destined for an early grave wearing a polyester muumuu yet either!  Hello, there is a middle ground!  Yes, I was alive for the original Michael Jackson era, but we were not around for the discovery of Stone Henge.  Therefore, in no capacity should we be expected to be wearing elastic-waisted Allison Daleys yet.  Why people why?  Why are there no clothing options between teenybopper and grandma-wear?  And if you dare to tell me that I can slip on a tailored jacket and sensible shoes, I might just run over you with my shopping cart!  For the love of all things trendy, why must I wear a tailored jacket just because I’m over the age of 30?  I hate to tell you but some of us are a little more fun than a 2-button blazer and black pumps.  No thank you!  In fact, somebody somewhere deserves a letter about it.

Dear Fashion Designers,

We, the general population of America, need you to think of us!  We understand that you design for the upper echelon of high fashion and we are only the lowly people that actually buy clothing, but please for the love of non-hideous people, look at the demographics!  It is quite apparent that all of you wear a double-negative, or at the very most, dare I say it?  A four!  But hello, the average size of the female population is a size 14!  At what point will you realize it is unkind to put high-waisted pants, leggings, and no-bra-allowed-shirts out there in refrigerator sizes and larger?  No child wants their mother to wear a skinny jean that says Juicy on her ass!  Seriously.  And not only do they not want to see their mom wearing it, but they do not want to see their big-butted aunt squeeze her ripples of cottage cheese into Saran Wrap-like fabric someone decided to label as “leggings” that are considered appropriate to wear sans pants to go to their flute recital.  It’s just not right. 

Listen, I watch my fair share of Fashion Star and Project Runway.  I even read my Glamour magazine, but I am not meant to wear some of that.  I know that, but not everyone does and our options are limited even if we know it!  I mean, if you can make Jessica Simpson look fat with your designs, then obviously the rest of us should not be wearing them!  Many of us really do want to look good and possibly even appropriate for our age, but very few of us are willing to put on jeggings, a jumpsuit, short shorts, or a 3 inch mini skirt to go out in public.  In fact, we shouldn’t!  We are grown adults who have to sit down sometimes without showing parts that ought not be seen.  We do not have personal trainers and eat grapefruit for every meal to be seen on the red carpet.  The only carpet we see is the kind in our den that we keep noticing needs to be replaced because our neighbors spilled wine on it a couple of years ago. 

Why does it matter?  It’s really quite simple.  We have to wear clothes!  Nobody wants to see us nekkid.  Trust me! 

I think I speak on behalf of the masses when I say, “Give me something between a white spaghetti strapped shelf-bra-tank top/pajama pants combo and a matching rhinestone hoodie and sweats windsuit set.”  Also, please quit suggesting I wear scarves and slipper moccasins in 105 degree temperatures, and while you’re at it, put some underwire in those swimsuits so the girls look perkier than a dog with a bone in sight.  And would it be too much to ask for a shoe that has arch support (because I’m not 18 and I do need foot support much to my freaking dismay and distress), but would still appeal to the non-Betty White age group, and can actually be worn for longer than the 10 minute walk from your car to office without the use of band-aids?

I’m sure everybody has an opinion and everybody shares it with you, but I’m not asking for miracles.  I’m asking for flattering.


Little Miss 30-Something