My mama's wearing the most badass patterned socks. I can see them peeking out beneath the hem of her jeans right now, checkered indigo and violet, splashes of green vaguely reminiscent of a wriggling worm. She's knitting a sweater, and it looks pretty good until you look at it closely. Well, it still looks pretty good then, if two-toned sweaters knitted from different lots of yarn don't bother you.
She got new glasses this week, round like the seventies. Round like hipsters.
Not that the seventies were round, or anything. I was referring to the glasses people wore IN the seventies. And hipsters. But you probably got that just from reading.
When she graduated college, she wore sunflower-patterned culottes that stuck out under her gown. Scandalous!
My mom was my fashion icon. When I was younger, I would borrow her shoulder pads and tape them to my chest*.
I thought that's what they were for.
I don't remember if this lead me to believe that women in the '80s had naturally massive shoulders.
Basically, the only thing that's remained awesome since the '80s is my mom.
Once we were in the car, and I said, "This stop is Croton Falls," in imitation of that strangely preppy recording on our local train.
She thought I said, "This stuff is Crump Balls."
This is why I love her. Happy Mother's Day, Little Little!
*This was before that time I stuffed her bra with socks and wore it around the house, or the time I strapped it to my head like a silky earmuff necklace.