There I was Saturday morning reading "Florida's Best Newspaper" when I was confronted with ugly news.
"Damn," I said to Baxter the dog.
"DAMN!"
My beloved camouflage pants and my cammo shirt are gauche, trashy, low-class trendy, says "Florida's Best Newspaper," which went on to say I should can my favorite pants and shirt.
My slinky Chico's gauchos, too.
"DOUBLE DAMN!!!!!"
Thank God I don't have any of those short sweater-shrugs or a cammo visor or rubber thong heels that writer Sharon Fink says should also be relegated to the garbage can, or I'd really be bummed.
I'm not sure why I'm so outraged. I've never been accused of being fashionable although I buy a lot of clothes. My idea of being chic is that there should be no visible stains, no missing buttons and no split seams or sagging hems.
Beyond that I buy what I like, wear what I like - and usually don't pay a lot of attention to fashionistas who try to tell me what's in or what's out.
So what's up with my visceral reaction to the banishment of cammo?
If the indictment of cammo was that old ladies like me shouldn't wear it because it's too young, I wouldn't be so pissed. (Of course, I would pay no attention to that admonishment, either.)
Maybe I just don't want to be considered, well, so common.
If cammo is common, it means I have to give up my cammo Crocs, too.