I was perusing the NYT Thursday Styles section yesterday morning while merrily sipping my grande decaf nonfat latte,* when I was stopped in my tracks with the shock of recognition. Could I really have been a goth in an earlier incarnation?
I certainly didn’t ever feel gothic, with my blonde hair and blue eyes and natural makeup. But on the pages of the NYT the similarity was undeniable.
In grad school my favorite dress was a charcoal gray thickish jersey number (can’t remember the designer any more but I bought it at BG) that had a gentle crew neck, tight long sleeves, a fitted empire bodice and a long, long skirt. Not long-dowdy; long-cool.
Like the model in the photo, I wore my dress with a high topknot; unlike the model, I also wore black velvet lace-up Charles Jourdan high-heeled oxfords and black-and white striped tights. (Or sometimes Doc Martens and black thin slouched socks, with a thick African metal necklace around my neck.)
Was this gothic? I felt more like a Calvin Klein minimalist, but am rethinking, with a bit of a blush.
Have you ever gone goth? Or *are* you gothic? (Southern gothic included . . .)
*called a “why bother?” in New York, a “Puritan” in New England. I like it because it gives me the illusion of coffee and milk without the jitters or calories.