The style question for today: at what point does “keeping current” become “mutton dressed as lamb”?
As I was walking into town today, I crossed paths with a young young young woman who was dressed strikingly like me. No, I suppose it’s more accurate to say I was dressed like her. Her ensemble, which included a scarf and bright green ballet flats, looked a little more intentional than mine, which was whatever I threw on to run down to the farmer’s market: black tank, black knit trousers, a sloppy tissue-weight cardigan knotted at the waist, wide headband to keep my tousled hair out of my face, big shimmery-framed sunglasses.
That’s right: mere days after my fortieth birthday, I accidentally dressed like a hipster girl. The brief stop at the art supply store did nothing to make me forget the fact.
macbebekin.wordpress.com 
Nobody’s judging you.
As far as you know.
(she typed, judgmentally)
well, what about your shoes? you don’t even HAVE any green ballet style flats. and you call yourself hip…
No, you misheard that. I call myself “Hips.” It’s a cheeky nickname, to be sure; it celebrates my form. My glorious form.
Might need to erase the “un” from the blog header.