Fashionine, It Rhymes with Asinine

One of my English lessons usually includes a Saturday morning walk through the market in Bassano del Grappa with a lovely, 36-year old Italian girl.  We eventually end up at a cafe with cappuccinos, notebooks and dictionaries, but we usually start with a little shopping.  (Okay, I'm lying about the cappuccinos, but it makes it sound better than water.  Even acqua naturale doesn't have the same ring to it as cappuccino!)

At the market one day last summer she said she was looking for summer boots.  It sounded like an English mistake to me, so I stopped to correct her.  But instead, it was her turn to give me a lesson in fashion.  She quickly pointed out all of the women walking around in boots; low-calf suede boots, referred to by those in the know as summer boots.   Could their frilly floral dresses keep them cool enough on the top to offset sweaty feet in suede boots on the bottom?  I don't think it would work for me.   I can barely (and rarely) keep my sandals on in the car.  Resting my bare feet on the dashboard is a special summertime treat.  Summer boots?  Out of the question.  So I decided to teach her one of my favorite made-up words, fashionine, which rhymes with asinine.  That's the day I put summer boots on my fashionine list.

Each year with the arrival of spring I can't wait to kick off my boots (Winter boots, that is.)  I just get sick of wearing them everyday.  I know I wouldn't look forward to packing away my boots only to unpack my other boots.  Do these women really feel excited about donning boots in the summer or do they just have fashionitis?  (Another made-up word, I think.)

In an attempt to keep from alienating some of my dearest friends, I've decided against divulging the rest of the items on my fashionine list.  Instead I'll talk about an item that I fell for.  Skinny jeans, which in my opinion aren't skinny jeans.  They're fat jeans.

In the eighties I don't know if the fashion world used the term skinny jeans, but I know some of us did.  My skinny jeans were the jeans that I could only wear when I was skinny.  It didn't matter if they were straight leg, boot cut or bell bottoms. The important thing was that I'd found a day that I was skinny enough to wear them.  I'd call a friend and excitedly say, "Guess what?  My skinny jeans fit!"  Then we'd usually celebrate by going out for pizza.

Now my skinny jeans (the ones that say skinny jeans on the tag when you buy them) are the ones that I call my fat jeans.  They usually have some small percentage of stretch fabric so you can squeeze in even when you're pudgy.  Not like good old 100% cotton denim that didn't budge an inch.  And what else?  They're so low-waisted that you can have an awfully bloated belly for a week or be just plain fat for a couple of months and you don't miss a day in your skinny jeans.  You zip and button them up UNDER the problem.  It's as easy as pie to close them down there. What a brilliant idea, even if it is a little fashionine.

My skinny jeans have gotten a lot of use since I've been living in Italy. Going out for pizza happens more often than it used to. Pizza is for Boring Mondays and I've Got to Get out of this House Tuesdays and Let's Just Eat it in the Car Fridays and Everyone Eats Pizza Sundays. But now, instead of being the one to call friends to go out to celebrate because my skinny jeans fit, they're the ones calling me to go out to celebrate one of the aforementioned special days of the week.  I always accept the invitations and tell them that as soon as I put on my skinny jeans and winter sandals, I'll be there.


Be not afraid of being called un-fashionable.  --Adolf Loos