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.

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