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Thursday, December 4, 2014

Proof That There Is A God: High-Waisted Jeans Are Coming Back

I was born a century too soon. Not that I crave Edwardian manners (okay, maybe a little) or I'm looking for my own personal Mr. Darcy (okay, maybe a lot, but he needs to look like Matthew McFayden).

Oooooh, Mr. can forget your manners with me...
It's more that my body was really made to wear Empire waists.
An Empire waist (for those not fashion-inclined or formerly Theatre majors who had the lead in "The Importance of Being Earnest") is properly pronounced OHM-peer, and it looks like this:

So elegant and lovely

See? It sits right under your poofy parts and flows from there. Some people hate this kind of dress because (a) their waist is nowhere near there and (b) if you weigh more than ninety pounds (unlike the model above) you can easily look pregnant in such a dress. that a man?

But I am a woman who was born with a naturally high waist. It sits just a measurable six inches below my bra line, and it's where the waistband of whatever I'm wearing naturally wants to sit.

And that has been problematic these last years, because mid-rise jeans look like low-rise jeans on me, and low-rise jeans are an exercise in frustration that make me want to put a fork in someone's eye every time I try to wear them.

It made me miss the eighties. I had a whole variety of great high-waisted, acid-washed jeans and high-waisted, multi-zippered pants back then. And they looked amazing on me. (Of course, the fact that I had a young. lithe body that took several hours of dance classes a day had nothing to do with that, I'm sure...)

And now high-waisted jeans are back en vogue. Hallelujah! There is hope! No more frantically pulling at my waistband all day long! No more drafts down my buttcrack every time I bend slightly at the waist! No more wondering why my body didn't fit into someone's neanderthal-inspired low-waisted idea of anal crevice exploding beauty. (Okay, that's harsh, but come on now...who can wear that low-waisted crap?)

So I peruse the pictures of high-waisted skinny jeans with great glee. Never again will my body's natural Edwardian sensibilities be shoved into ill-mannered, offensive, butt-crack flashing low-rise instrument of torture. 

Now all I need are some shoulder pads. I can really rock the shoulder pads.

Yeah, baby. That would be sweet.

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