Before entering the mall, I slip on a holiday-themed mask. I’d meant to grab my black one, but I left it on the counter next to the baby formula, so my face has been transformed into Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Like almost everybody, I haven’t been properly shopping in nearly two years, but the instant I walk through the revolving doors, I’m wrapped in the warm embrace of Christmas-season consumerism, and even the dorky face-covering can’t bring me down.
The moment I enter the first store, I realize something is amiss. There’s an entire section of jeans called “Wedgie.” Definitely weird, but that’s okay—I’m in my mid-thirties, and this is simply not my section. There are plenty of other sections. I’m good. I keep moving.to look like a mom . “Mom jeans” used to be a term for hideous, frumpy, shapeless monstrosities hoisted upon women in the early ’90s. And, lo and behold, that definition remains accurate, but now, somehow, the look is in.
Quick question: What fresh fashion hell are we living in? And what has happened to the denim industry over the past 22 months to make it hate us so much?
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