Summer of Love
Ending July a la 1960-something to 70’s high-waisted happiness
Personally I don’t think it’s too much to ask that we go back to the days of lying on our backs while a friend or a disassembled hanger assists us in the zipping of our jeans. Modern low-slung and stretch-fabric denim were a gift to guts for sure, but suddenly pants just don’t seem to feel right unless they’re suffocating belly buttons and slicing the toe of that proverbial-crotched camel.
Part of it has to do with the rise and rise of crop tops. When the question of bra-or-shirt? started to become a regular game while getting dressed, pants had to up the ante in inches to counter balance all of this skin. And then, because when you give a mouse a cookie he almost always demands for almond milk, the height of said waistline needed to be counterbalanced by a wide leg which — when you’re 5’3″ and fancy free — means you need a gigantic clodhopper of a shoe to kick the whole thing into motion.
And then suddenly you’re in an outfit. Suddenly you’re in an outfit in a high school bathroom discussing the supposed male fantasy that is Gilligan’s Island…
…when this whole time you were thinking to yourself, whoa dude, I was just trying to watch some wholesome Nick at Nite while simultaneously figuring out where to purchase Gilligan’s cropped flares.
Or perhaps you, like me, were simply trying to find balance in the sartorial dichotomy that is deciding on a favorite fashion year from the mid 1960s to the just-pre-disco-70s. Is the look about the true blue 1967 summer of love — that Haight-Ashbury-hippie as seen through romanticized rose-colored lenses (and less of a LSD-laden reality per Joan Didion)?
Or is it more about that sweet spot of 1976 when all outfits were androgynous, not because the women wore “borrowing from the boys” but more so because the guys were possibly borrowing from their sisters, and everyone — bless their ability to suck it in or suck it up — wore those aforementioned, perfect, high waisted jeans?
What about all of those pleasant blouses that seemed to permeate the market? Can a girl holler at a funky floaty top with at least one layer of frill?
She sure can.
Besides, it’s not like someone’s going to question you on the exact year your look-of-the-day was inspired by. Should someone point out that, “actually, your strange and colorful vest’s self-described homage to the Beatles is far more Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band than it is Abbey Road,” throw glitter in their eyes and ask them who went and made them the circa-officers.
Or you could, by the way, simply say (while verbally omitting a year altogether) that your look of the moment was inspired by the one and only “Gloria”…meaning both the 1964 Van Morrison song and also, of course, this:
Life’s too short to argue, anyway. And to not wear high waisted pants.