As I coaxed myself out of sleepiness this morning watching Laguna Beach, I realized that I have an unusual joy for all media things typically labeled "young adult" or "teen." Like, Britney's Circus Album, or the Hills, or the Real Housewives of NYC/NJ, and who could forget The Twilight Saga. Because, OMG if you haven't seen the New Moon trailer where Taylor Lautner has his shirt off, then you are totally missing out on like, this season's best trailer ever.
Which all begs the question: since I love my some teen romance, and I love me some mad trashy tv and bad pop music -- am I stuck as a sixteen year old girl living in a quarter-century woman's body? Or is it that all adults, people we'll call them, retain some aspects of their youth throughout their lives?
For instance, my mother is by far one of my style icons. It happened both consciously and subconsciously that her likes and dislikes began permeating my own aesthetic palate. But, obviously there are some sharp points of divergence -- aka, she wears neon colors that cause epileptic seizures, and I try to save the elders and small children of the world by wearing only lame ass neutrals. Okay, but really, she has a much more adventurous sense of style than I do, excepting when we're talking about housewares. What fascinates me, though, is that even though she'll often find these beautiful, vibrant pieces that I would never think to pick out and that she always wants to wear, she rarely ever does. Like, for example, one of this season's hot colors is a blingingly bright red. Momma See found one such awesome purse hanging out in a sale section at Nordstrom's. This low shoulder slinging See by Chloe bag is literally the type of purse I would pick out for maybe myself, but much more likely my teenage cousin. Yet, it's still versatile enough that anyone could use with the proper amount of confidence. Momma See scooped it up off the table and promptly decided that it had all the attributes she'd been looking for in laid back, fun-times, everyone gets to dance like we're in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants bag, and bought it. After unpacking and packing it multiple times and parading in front of our hallway mirror, three days later, she promptly returned it to its sad, unloved place on the Nordstrom's sale table where it was surely cannibalized by some eighteen year old with Daddy's mastercard. Now, the quick turn around on acquirement and then disposal of the Red Bag could be a product of my mother having too much stuff (<3 you, mom!). But, strangely, I find it more likely she still retains this youthful piece of herself which, no matter how much she'd love to partake in it, she can't bring herself to cross into that realm.
Even at twenty-four, I'm beginning to wonder where the expiration date lies for me on enjoying the current day pop culture ephemera. Is it me who's tagging on longer than my expiration date? Or is it my cousin who is embarking on an adult existence far earlier than her age? Yet, there's something so fascinating about hearing el bf-ers Aunts singing "I'm a single lady, I'm a single lady" to Beyonce's Single Ladies in the kitchen over Easter weekend, or sitting at the dinner table and finding out his mom knows more of Lady GaGa's songs than I do. It's both empowering for them and for me. Partially because I feel a sense of connection, and admittedly can't pull the wool over the eyes any more, but more because it forces me to view them as equals in a world where I think hitting forty means losing touch. Which is probably why, in the end, I love talking to my mom about fashion, and designers, and why I actually encouraged her to buy that red See by Chloe bag that day. There's something charming and wonderful about allowing yourself a small space to be that sixteen year old girl who loves Yves Saint-Laurent, or the sixteen year old boy who can't ever play enough Counter Strike. Everyone is always racing to grow up and have everything in check as quickly as they can in their mid-twenties, when ironically we don't realize that even the awkwardly attempted pop culture references our parents and their generation make, really do make a difference to us. Not only because we see them as both hilarious and informed, but because the no man's land of teenage vs. parent interests has been crossed. Their effort to meet us halfway, helps bring them and us forward.
Today's Phobia of the day is: Forever-watching-reruns-of-Laguna-Beach-with-acne-and-pining-for-that-senior-guy-phobia
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