The thing about style...

After all these years, you would think I would have discovered my style. For a while, in my early twenties, after my first divorce, I was Holly Golightly, urban and coiffed with a Sassoon, very sleek. I even had one of those mega-long cigarette holders, which, after a couple of smokes, made my black and gold Sterlings taste pretty awful. Then I remarried and moved to Hawaii, where I was Hilo Hattie, all muumuued and brown. Shortly after our return to the mainland, I divorced again, and moved to Santa Rosa, where my style sank into suburban mediocrity. After the purchase of my Birkenstocks, I considered doing Earth Mother, but it just never worked out for me, not even when I moved to the coast and became West County Wild Woman. There is too much vanity there to let my hair grow out gray and braid it down my back, and I just can't walk out into the world with a naked face, either. But I do like the student personna, where I can just put one of those dandy clamps in my hair, throw on jeans and a tee shirt and some sandals, and go. No more panty hose. Hell, no more girdle, like I wore in my early city days. Even when I was a student, 42 years ago, we wore wool skirts and Mary Janes to college. Some changes are definitely for the best.