Jacket: Wild Fable, Target
Top: Wild Fable, Target
Skirt: Wild Fable, Target
Shoes: Delicious, Zulily
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's
Sunglasses: Wild Fable, Target
Eclectic Emoji Charm Necklace
Top: Wild Fable, Target
Skirt: Wild Fable, Target
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's
Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's
Belt: Wild Fable
Yellow necklace: Kohl's
I used to think of fall as a time of darkness and death (I'm looking at you, Halloween), but now I see it as a chance for rebirth and beginnings, an opportunity to enjoy something old that's now new again. Which is very fitting, because this fall, there's a renaissance of '90s fashion. Remember that irresistible mash-up of grunge and glam? Well, it's back: corduroy, mock turtlenecks, happy faces, crop tops, faux fur, checkerboard prints, rainbow stripes, plaid, and much more. Then again, saying that plaid is big for fall is like saying that flowers are big for spring or that ugly sweaters are big for Christmas. But this isn't any old lumberjack or prep school tartan. It's Clueless plaid in all of its yellow pleated glory, reigning as the queen bee crown jewel in the tiara of Target's Wild Fable label. (Hey, that rhymes.) Surely you'e seen that Target commercial with the Cher, Dionne, and Tai look-a-likes kitted out in revamped versions of the movie's (and decade's) top trends. Aesop would be rolling over in his grave if he knew that Wild Fable is the name Target gave to the brand replacing its longtime juniors headliner, Xhilaration. Then again, maybe he's a fan of teen flicks and is doing an, ahem, wild jig.
Now, at first I wasn't happy about this coup. I have many an Xhilaration piece in my wardrobe and hated the idea of the beloved brand being edged out by some new kid on the block. Much like when the Backstreet Boys edged out the actual New Kids on the Block. Then I remembered that I like the Boys better than the Kids. I mean, "Everybody" vs. "Hangin' Tough?" No contest. And that's when I took a good look at the racks and realized I love Wild Fable. Its edgy elegance transported me back to the days of Seventeen and Saturday mall crawls in a way that Xhilaration's boho blouses never could. I was captivated by the studded belts, colorful Lucite-like earrings, and novelty wristlets (although, oddly, not a chain wallet in sight), that made up these punk princess spoils. But it was the display centerpiece that really transfixed me. For, arranged on a table like so many treats were -- are you ready for this? -- Caboodles!
Every '90s girl had one of these confection-colored cosmetics organizers. I'll never forget when I got my own sky blue case one Christmas. I was so excited! It matched my bedroom perfectly, and I couldn't wait to fill it with treasures. So, you can imagine my indignation when my (male) cousin referred to it as a tackle box. Stash mackerel-gut slimed lures and rubber worms where my bubblegum Bonnie Bell lip balm should be? As if!
So, I picked up this lilac Caboodle as well as the other nostalgic pieces in this post. My favorite is the checkerboard jacket. They didn't have it in my size at the store, so I went online and ordered it. It's like Speed Racer and ska all in one. Cue the trumpets, Mighty Mighty Bosstones!
Still, as thrilling as the return of all this throwback stuff is, some of it should stay in the moldy basements of our memories of retainers and school dance sobfests. I refer to you, baby backpacks, flannel, and scrunchies. (The aforementioned
Clueless-inspired, yellow plaid separates are, sadly, flannel. Otherwise, you know they'd be preening in pride of place here.) I've made a solemn pact not to cave to the likes of these D-list reincarnations. And that goes double for jumpers. I tried one on, and it was hideous. Which sounds about right, because whenever I hear the word "jumper" I think of a big, bulky sweater knitted by dear old Aunt Agnes with puce-colored, pill-prone acrylic instead of a dress worn over a turtleneck. Thanks, Sophie Kinsella, Marian Keyes, and Maeve Binchy. Soon I'll be expecting an elevator when someone says that they've called (a) Lyft.
So yeah, there's something to be said for fall fashion . . . and for fall. For one thing, it marks the end of swamp ass, sunscreen, and mosquitoes. But it's not the end of everything sunny. I could go on about the magic of leaves changing from green to gold and the coziness of sweaters and the custardy coolness of Libby's pumpkin pie. Yet the sign above the register at the breakfast place where the husband and I went this morning sums it up best:
"Everything will be alright in the end. And if it's not alright, then it's not the end."
I thought that was beautiful. (Then again, maybe I was still flying high from all the sugar in my super decadent strawberry cheesecake pancakes.) It's a simple way of saying that no matter what your troubles or fears, the universe has a plan, and that that plan will take care of you. Which, I realize, goes way beyond any wistfulness that the transition of seasons might bring. But it's the little things that make a big difference. And one of the biggest little things you can do is look for signs.
Especially the kind for 50% off on lunchbox purses.