The Science of Fashion

What Jen says is her intro to chemistry class brought her closer to God- specifically, the elements table. The notion that the great unknown expanse of universe was reduced to a common set of building blocks made the world manageable. That type of order and repetition could only be the work of a sentient being of awesome power, a being that showed himself through Virginia Woolf, the French Revolution, and frog anatomy that the ninth grade would also unveil.

I felt similarly about fashion in my late twenties. What began as a bewildering rush of sensory overload when I was eleven- lace? neon? crosses? berets? slowly settled into a predictable pattern, an ocean that ebbed and flowed with both singularity and reliability. Every crest and peak, slightly different but still as regular as the tides. At twenty six, I witnessed my first wave of trend reincarnations, as pant legs narrowed and the vest cautiously edged its way into mass urban retailers. I realized I had long lost the matte neutrals of the early millenium, shed the calvin klein sack dresses, ditched the simple silver jewelry. My closet was replete with the clothes I had earlier scoffed in college as juvenile remnants of an overly whimsical child- I had vivid brights, intricate beaded earrings, red cords. This year, I- sigh. I bought one watercolor print silk pintucked tunic in charcoal shades and one- sigh- bright floral skirt. I remember the day I trashed all my florals- 8 years ago- in an act of determined fashionista coming to my senses hallejuah moment. With the gristly wisdom that comes with age, I realize the florals were not the problem. It was the size of the floral- you really should never go for a small- oh come now. There is no sense in fashion.

Except in this. Fashion is a reflection of our time. A historical tapestry of our economics, our morals, our wars, our presidents. An encrusted swell that is constantly evolving on to the land and returning to the sea. The same colors, the same symbols, twisting and returning, single eyes on our dollar bills, white dresses at the altar. Just as we swore off things from our tweens, fashion, like all art, makes us see things in a new light. Like all art, it's senseless, but transcendental.