FASHION BECOMES ME

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            When someone is all gussied up in a new outfit, people often say, “That’s becoming.”  Becoming what? It sounds unfinished. Isn’t it already what it is? Dresses and shoes don’t generally keep evolving.

Weirdness aside,  “that’s becoming” is a backhanded compliment at best: That outfit makes even you look good. It’s flattering. It minimizes your shortcomings. It enhances you. No way does it sound like you make the outfit look good.

At this late stage of life, there’s just one kind of becoming that interests me–my clothes becoming comfortable, period. Furthermore, it occurs to me that I’ve become a fashion icon even when I’m buck naked. I have plenty of ruching without any clothing whatsoever. And, I don’t need a jacket to sport this impressive peplum. In certain lighting conditions, I have  a built-in cowl neckline, and there’s something akin to dotted Swiss on my thighs. My tummy drapes, and accordion pleats adorn my face. My empire waist keeps right on a-rising. There’s some sort of fishnet pattern on my bare legs. At long last, am I making a fashion statement?