I was reading about the latest fashion trend called “naked dressing.”
The idea is to wear clothing so sheer and minimal that everyone spends more time wondering where your outfit went than listening to what you’re saying.
One woman interviewed in the article said it made her feel empowered.
That got me thinking.
At 84, I may have discovered an even bigger market.
Forget fashion for the young. I’m thinking of launching a clothing line for people over 85.
We’ve spent our entire lives trying to hide wrinkles, liver spots, warts, and the last three hairs still courageously clinging to the tops of our heads. Why? They took decades to earn.
My new line will proudly accent them.
Introducing The Octogenarian Collection™
Our slogan:
“We’ve already embarrassed ourselves. What’s left to fear?”
Or perhaps:
“Wrinkles are just experience refusing to be ironed.”
Featured items include:
• The Wart Enhancer — strategically placed sequins that draw attention to particularly distinguished warts.
• The Comb-Over Liberation Hat — completely transparent, because honesty never goes out of style.
• The Compression Sock Tuxedo — elegance from the knees down.
• The Orthopedic Sandal Evening Collection — Paris wishes it had this much arch support.
Accessories include reading glasses hanging from a gold chain, hearing aids available in designer colors, and pockets large enough for Werther’s Originals, blood pressure medication, and the television remote you accidentally brought with you.
Naturally, all runway models must be at least 85.
If you can sprint down the runway, you’re too young.
Every runway has handrails every six feet, and at the end of the show everyone receives a comfortable chair, a cup of tea, and ten minutes to discuss whether they remember 1958 correctly.
Young fashion says:
“Look at my body.”
Our collection says:
“I’ve survived wars, recessions, questionable hairstyles, polyester leisure suits, disco, New Coke, Windows Vista, and enough politicians to fill several museums. I have absolutely nothing left to prove.”
The advertising campaign is simple.
A magnificent 92-year-old looks directly into the camera.
“These aren’t wrinkles.”
“They’re the table of contents.”
Come to think of it, maybe that’s what growing older is all about.
When you’re young, you dress to impress strangers.
By the time you’re in your eighties, if you’re lucky, you dress to amuse yourself.
And I have a feeling that’s the most fashionable thing of all.
