I’ve had plenty of arguments with my teenaged children, but never about clothing. That’s because I have only one clothing rule for them—well, actually it only applies to my daughter, not my son. The purpose of the rule is to keep her safe and it is this—she cannot wear anything that I decide is too skimpy.

Having only one rule means that a) I can never be accused of being overly restrictive (at least in this arena), and b) my kids get to learn what styles they like and dislike. I do offer my opinion about quality and fit, but my kids are entitled to ignore me if they want to.

I’m relaxed about their clothing choices partly because the majority of what they wear comes from thrift stores and costs next to nothing, but also because there are so many other battles that are so much more important. They pick out something made out of cheap material? The price is three dollars, so who cares? They’ll learn something about fabric when it develops pills after they wear it two times. They want to wear only black? Gee, so do a majority of women who work in the fashion industry. They’re drawn to a pair of pants that I think is unflattering? Why is this my business?

Teens need to make good choices about things that matter like sex and drugs. They won’t learn how to best decide the important stuff if they aren’t allowed to choose the inconsequential stuff. The clothes just don’t matter.

Award season is here and so are the shows featuring fashion editors who critique celebrity outfits. So-and-so’s hair looked shellacked, somebody else’s shoes were so last year, and (I love this the best) that celebrity always plays it safe and needs to try something more daring. Of course she’s playing it safe, I say to myself, she wants to blend in so that you don’t pick at her.

I believe that this institutionalized sniping is a kind of bullying that creates a general fear of taking chances when we get dressed. If celebrities get criticized for their clothing choices even though they have teams of people helping them to look so fantastic, the rest of us must be getting it wrong all the time. Better to just blend in and never try anything new. When the fashion industry tells us to wear purple this season, better to just wear it. This is great for the industry, but very bad when it comes to our personal style because style is fearless. It means going out on a limb with your clothing, and taking your own counsel when it comes to what looks good on you instead of just dressing like everybody else.

Those of us who joyfully wear a secondhand wardrobe are less willing to follow fashion dictates. You have to rely on your own creativity when the items in your closet come from various sources and time periods. 

I often tape awards shows and watch them in fast-forward to see the pretty dresses. And I also sometimes watch the sniping shows that follow. They give me the chance to see the dresses all over again and then yell at the TV when I think the commentators are getting mean.

The other day a friend of mine asked me what she should do with her daughter’s wedding dress. The marriage was brief and unhappy. The daughter doesn’t want the dress, of course, and the mom, my friend, also doesn’t want it, but it’s been hanging in her closet for years now. She’s been hoping to give it to somebody who could really use it.

I suggested that she donate it to a thrift store, where lots of people can try it on. It’s much more likely that someone who needs the dress, loves it, and just happens to fit into it will discover it there than if it stays in her closet. She can get those bad memories out of her house, get a tax deduction and provide the thrift store of her choice with something that they can sell.

It seems that every time I go into a bookstore, I see another volume about how to start off with a basic tee shirt and then slice, dice, knot and sometimes sew it into a one-of-a-kind garment. Of course, this is the sort of project that lends itself beautifully to the secondhand wardrobe because the thrifts (and maybe even your own closet) are loaded with give-away tees.

My favorite book that takes the reader step-by-step through the slice-‘n-dice process is called Generation T: 108 Ways to Transform a T-Shirt, by Megan Nicolay. She shows the reader how to turn an oversized, boxy tee with advertising slogans and logos into a decorative addition to your wardrobe. So grab those tees that are from the company picnic, your last 10k run or your neighborhood hardware store opening, consult with Megan and make them into a little halter top, skirt, or maybe even a wedding gown.

They say that 80’s fashions are back. Whenever it happens that an old style is re-introduced, I start thinking about how those of us who appreciate a secondhand wardrobe are at a distinct advantage. As long as the new fashions reference a time period that’s within the last couple of decades, chances are good that you’ll find a selection of the real thing (of course, at the cheapest of the cheap prices) at your local secondhand store.

Whenever designers start borrowing from an earlier trend, they change things around a bit. Today’s 80’s fashions are less monumental in the shoulders, don’t include big hair and do mix bright flashy colors and prints with neutrals. If I wanted to wear this look today, I’d seek out a few bright 80’s pieces to wear with other, more obviously current items. Notice that I said if I wanted to wear the look. I think other people should enjoy the trend, but for myself, well, I actually lived through the 80’s, and once was enough for me.

(Note to readers: I haven’t written for the last few weeks because I’ve been preoccupied with changing my blogging software. I hope that the change will provide more flexibility as well as more visibility. Sorry to disrupt the flow!)

I’ve been searching for a pair of skinny jeans for the last year. With all my looking, I’ve found thousands of 80’s acid-washed, pleated jeans, which I left hanging on the racks, but no skinny jeans. Is it too much to ask that this fairly trendy item show up in quantity and in my size?

Some fashions hit the thrift stores in large numbers right after they are introduced. The baby-doll shirts that were popular in the last few years come to mind. But skinny jeans just don’t seem to be making it into the secondhand stores. Or at least they aren’t making it into the secondhand stores close to where I live. Dresses are also supposed to be very popular right now, but they aren’t making it into my local thrift stores either. What gives? Did people bring their baby doll tops home, decide they hated them and then do a mass donation? Are they so in love with their skinny jeans that they can’t bear to part with them? Are they wearing their dresses so frequently that they completely wear out and never make it to my thrift stores? Whatever the reasons, I’m getting pretty sick of looking through racks and racks of pants. If you spot me wearing pair of acid-washed pleated jeans, you’ll know that I finally just gave up. 

In my last blog I wrote about somebody who offered me a barrage of unsolicited, mean advice about my hair. I did what I believed to be the best thing with her comments—I ignored them.

Unlike my experience with this one individual (who, by the way, is no longer in my life), most people who offer style advice probably have your best interests at heart. So how do you tell the difference between somebody who genuinely wants to help from someone who’s just trying to undermine you? I’ve come up with a few guidelines. You might want to listen to style advice if:

¨      The person offering it has style that you admire.

¨      You find your life isn’t heading in right direction. For example, you’re consistently meeting people who are wrong for you.

¨      Your boss is the person offering the style advice.

¨      Lots of people tell you that your clothing needs to change.

¨      You haven’t updated your look for five or more years.