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GoogleThat's the term cutesy fashion writers and how-to gurus term everything these days, not just the current trends in colors. According to adweek.com, frugality is the new black. According to Business Week, innovation is the new black, but the Boston Globe contains that when you're talking about homestyles, small is the new black.
About the only one of these profound pronouncements I've gotten tickled by is the title of a new book, "Bitter is the New Black."
Who makes the decision when something is the new style? I watch some of those extreme fashion shows, where women emerge wearing concoctions of coat hangers and aluminum foil and I know I've never seen anyone in "real" life wearing them, not even Bjork at the Oscars. Who is the fashionista tucked away in a corner who decide that plum is the new black and all heels should look like they were worn by Frankenstein's monster first?
I want that job. The misogynistic fashion designers would hate me, but all women over 16 years of age and 95 pounds who actually work for a living (and walk, breathe and sit down) would nominate me for sainthood. Shoes that are pretty, but don't require orthopedic surgery at a later date are the new black in my world. Jeans and tops that don't make everyone from 10-year-old girls to 67-year-old grandmothers look pregnant are the new black. Clothes that actually fit you and not your younger, skinnier -- and non-existent -- inner child are the new black.
Why can't comfort and common sense be the new black?
The term goes back to the fact that black is the foundation of the fashion world. Almost every woman -- even I, who would rather listen to rap music while on a date with Rush Limbaugh than dress up -- has the little black dress upon which all evening engagements are based. Add a fun, clunky necklace, and the LBD is perfect for an afternoon cocktail party or reception. Add pearls instead, and you're ready for a formal occasion. Add a lab coat, pearls and a martini, and you can go to a Halloween party as a plastic surgeon called in from an important Hollywood soiree for Meg Ryan's emergency Botox treatment.
The problem with this mysterious fashionista fascist is that he's totally out of touch with 96.9 percent of the American women. If he knew what our lives were really like, from chauffeuring kids to washing dogs, from important business meetings to fixing supper, he'd know that blue jeans are the new black, and have been for decades. Blue jeans, khakis, and yes, heaven help us, polyester.
Grabbing the newest of the new black, in whatever uncomfortable style, substance or circumstance they come up with next will suffice for a three-hour cocktail party, but for the rest of my day, I want my stretchy, comfy clothes.
I want to be the one picking the new black for other things, too, not just clothes. How about "Tolerance is the new black?" Every time I think we might be edging closer to that state, I make the mistake of turning on the news and hearing about how far off I am.
Western Europe is shifting viciously right now, with posters and political parties promising to solve all the woes of the world, just as soon as "problem" the (Muslims, Jews, Gypsies -- pick one and insert it here) is resolved. In Hungary, one poster even offered a "Final Solution" for the Gypsies.
Where have we heard that before?
The same day I heard about that was the same day I saw yet another article on yet another "New Black," and the irony just punched me. Hitler's ghost is breeding hatred in Europe, but by golly, don't use stock phrases in your resume, because "a personable voice is the new black."
Yes, it's so much more important to say, "I get along well with coworkers and find myself comfortable in leadership positions," instead of "Works well with others and assumes responsibilities," than is it is to prevent genocide.
Forget the comfortable shoes and the polyester pants. I want compassion to be the new black.
-- Mary Reeves is a staff writer for the Times-Gazette. She can be reached at (931) 684-1200, ext. 215, or by e-mail at mreeves@t-g.com. This column is published each Wednesday.
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I have a friend who's a designer, and he once told me he would purposely design things that would be uncomfortable for women just to see if it would sell - and it usually did.
Who are we kidding?
What we wear is kinda like who we date.
The ones that prove useless or uncomfortable seldom make us give up on the concept altogether.
Instead,we buy into the idea that our next pick will be attractive and comfy and fit with how we really live.
After the umpty-third case of what-was-I-thinking,we are assured that the problem lies with us.
If we were to try hard enough (or distort ourselves enough),we could adapt to what we're offered.
If we were to get something (or someone) that recognized and respected who we really are and how we truly live,we wouldn't need to stay on the lookout for this season's bit of magic.
We wouldn't have to walk away from former choices with regret or be frustrated from making one more search for that treasure that won't hurt us or make us feel ridiculous.
We'd find the answer to our prayers,get three of it in every color (plus one size up and one size down) and never go shopping again.
(O.k.,that's where the dating analogy kinda breaks down.
With life partners,there's usually a limit of one to a customer.)
The vendors have to give us something substandard or make us dissatisfied with something perfectly good.
Maybe,it's the product we already have.
("Oh,you need the sage green refrigerator with the built in Wii and GPS."
Or,maybe,we're told *we* need to be upgraded - or replaced.
The minute a seller's survival depends on what we want rather than what we need,it becomes necessary for us to be manipulated.
There's more emphasis on planned obsolesence than making real innovations and improvements.
I guess that's why I like vintage things.
If a house,garment,recipe or idea has worked for dozens of cultures for decades or centuries,I figure it'll be fine for me.
If it was executed in good materials with good workmanship,it won't need replacing before my payment clears the bank.
Novelty and variety are good things but they need to supplement the idea of functionality-not replace it.