Lace, frills, boobs, butts

I discovered the year-old Anastasia Chatzka boutique on a Saturday morning stroll through Wicker Park, and I’m thanking the gods of fashion for this frilly find. The cookie-cutter designs I see everywhere from Forever 21 to Bloomingdales are blander than rice cakes. Can’t we come up with a better image for this season of bad 80′s/90′s remakes than a Courtney Love-Rhianna hybrid?

I’m particularly sensitive to the nuances of fashion in Chicago (of all places).  I see hordes of young women wearing outfits straight off the pages of Marie Claire and Seventeen. Attention to fashion, yes, personal style, no. Absolutely nothing that distinguishes one individual from her clones/friends, all with their streaky blond highlights fresh for summer, their Mac makeup caked on thick, their assembly-line spiky heels squeezing their pedicured feet. Who are all these young women? Why do they think it’s way cooler to fit in than stand out?

I don’t mean to suggest that I’m a fashionista with a closet full of couture ( a girl can only dream). I’ve purchased my fair share of peasant blouses, jeggings, and thick gaudy belts that I’ll probably never wear all in the name staying fashion forward (hey, a girl’s got to keep up with the Kardashians). Nor am I suggesting that everyone need to have Anna Wintour’s eye.  What I do find disheartening is the lack of thought that apparently goes into how so many women define themselves through what they put on their body. It’s the underlying notion that we should all look good in whatever skimpy designs (daisy dukes, midriff-baring tops, hooker heels) the fashion gods deem universally cool because our bodies are all the same – and if not, they should be. It’s the subtle subtex that our fashion choices should be more about validating our sameness – and therefore, safety -  than defining individuality. If we strive for sameness in our bodies, what’s to keep our minds from mental monotony? But why should I be surprised?  Conformity is king and majority rules. It just shocks me how few people want to change that.

But back to my original issues with Chicago fashion: it seems there are very few options between dim-a-dozen department stores and high-end boutiques. As much as I love unique designs and want to support independent businesses, I simply can’t justify buying a single skimpy summer dress for the same price as plane ticket cross-country from a store that never has sales.

That’s why I much appreciate any boutique where I can find an original design on sale for $75 that’s created by a designer who leaves room for hips, butts, and boobs – all those women parts that designers often seem to ignore – and incorporates lace and frills to boot!