You can't have Urban Outfitters

Age shouldn’t be a rigid marker of style, or anything.

Jan 06, 2023

My town has an Urban Outfitters, which lives on a busy corner in a building that looks like it should house an Urban Outfitters. Its giant windows are a palate cleanser for our cotton candy Americana, a place caught in the shift between the good ol’ days and late-stage capitalism.

We moved here from New York City when our first daughter was eight months old. Back then, I spent most of my time at work, commuting to and from work, and talking to people about my commute to and from work. That was an easier narrative to follow than the real one about a displaced new mother searching for comfort. I knew I didn’t want to parent in the city but wasn’t sure about this place, either, and slid into justifying all of my decisions with adjectives like, “smart,” and “practical,” and “no fuss.” I thought, the time to fuss over me had passed.

I would peek inside the Urban Outfitters often, whenever The Young People™ propped open its heavy double doors. There wasn’t an easy way in with a stroller, and I wasn’t confident enough with my maneuvering skills to ask for help. I shopped there beginning in high school all the way through law school. Everyone bought me gift cards there for my birthdays. Perhaps more than any other store at the time, it was a full expression of who I was: comfort with an edge. Sexy and a little pissed off. When did I become any less of those things?

I wasn’t sure. I had never been afraid to pursue fashion I liked, but having a baby and moving to the suburbs made me question whether I passed through some portal into a new life, one where I needed to spend equal time convincing other mothers I was just like them and my colleagues I hadn’t changed even though I didn’t own buttons anymore because they hurt nor makeup anymore because what did it matter. It was like I cashed in my ticket of youth for an Uppababy suite of accessories and an Ann Taylor credit card.

This was the natural progression of life, I thought, as my generation handed its taste-making duties to the next. Gen Z gained digital platforms just as they assumed their voice in this world, and they were eager to highlight our differences: the part of our hair, the cut of our jeans, our stupid decorative scarves and statement necklaces. The online discourse played up our labels and shooed us from places we weren’t meant for anymore. We aged into more sensible things, for sensible adults, in our own little sensible wastelands.

When my first baby grew older and another one came, I wasn’t that woman anymore. With age and the adult experience of getting burned trying to please people, you become more aware of the futility of doing so. If you’re lucky, you also begin to realize you still exist. I started seeing glimmers of a younger me in the mirror—not just my physical presence but my mental presence, too.

During this time, we planned a vacation to Florida. While cramming to pack, I realized I needed a new pair of jean shorts and didn’t have time to walk the mall or play size roulette online. Plus, jean shorts are too often a consumer’s scandal at nearly the same price as their full-length relatives. I had an hour at lunch to solve my problem. Out of nowhere, Urban Outfitters appeared sensible again.

I pulled open its heavy double doors, new but familiar. Lindsay Lohan’s “Rumors” blasted through the sound system setting a near identical tone to when the store used to dictate my wardrobe. Still, the styles resonated with me, more affordable iterations of my department store splurges: cinched tank tops, vintage tees, backpacks, pastel clips, platform sandals with stretch across the toes (an homage to Steve Madden), little two-piece suits that gave Cher from Clueless vibes. I’d seen this movie before—albeit, on DVD. It was probably more familiar to me than The Young People™. Jean shorts and two oversized tees cost half of what I’d usually spend, and I loved them even more.

Age should not be a rigid marker of style, or anything. When Gen Z attempts to take this kind of ownership, it only redistricts the labels they seek to remove in other areas of their lives and places them around us. We are not copying them (if anything, I’d argue, they are copying us).

No one can copy what they do not own.

Style is a vehicle of expression carried from one generation to the next. Like heirloom jewelry, we inherit the originals but diverge on how we wear them. We adapt them to our needs, comfort, and personal taste. That has not changed. You might shoot moody content for TikTok in your sweatpants, but I wore tube tops on my GeoCities website. We were equally cryptic about our boyfriends online. I am still comfortable and a little pissed off, but my angst has tempered with age and with children. Nip slips aren’t chic in the suburbs—you’d be playground fodder for years—but that doesn’t mean that at 37, I am relegated to Talbots and turtlenecks. The same way younger people say they are not trying to be us, we are not trying to be them. We are all riffing off each other, trying to say we have arrived, or we are still here.

What I borrow from Gen Z runs deeper than our clothes. I am in awe of their self-advocacy in the workplace, skills that my contemporaries are learning as we unravel years of conditioning to just put our heads down and take it. They are better at setting boundaries. They are much more in tune with true personal identity, which is unaffixed from traditional gender roles. Consider that just 15 years ago, I was taught I could only wear skirt suits with nude pantyhose in court. But now that my generation is beginning to lead, we are taking pages from Gen Z’s impact statements and applying them where they matter. Let’s recognize that. Because if we choose to characterize change as an accommodation, we are foreclosing the opportunity to better everyone else. We are all watching the same news, scrolling the same platforms, and sitting at the same tables.

However, Gen Z pulls from the past, too. Everyone does. Trends return as sentiments do. Occupy Wall Street vocalized the inequities of wealth distribution similar to after the Great Depression. Black Lives Matter built upon the Civil Rights Movement. The #MeToo Movement called back to earlier waves of women’s efforts surrounding suffrage and reproductive freedom. My point is that most feelings are not new—they are renewed, refurbished, and repurposed. Like trends interpreted for a new generation, they just produce different results in today’s world.

So if my stores still exist, I will continue to shop there, or wherever I damn please. I will embrace what is new, which is somehow also old. Acknowledging that connection gives us permission.

I didn’t lose Urban Outfitters. I didn’t lose anything.

Which trends evolve with you? Comment below or let me know: averagejoelle3@gmail.com.

The little things

I started baking challah in 2020 while we were marooned at home. Every week, I experimented with different flavors, but tie-dye sprinkle was the girls’ favorite. We don’t get to bake nearly as often anymore, but we didn’t forget how! We made these right after Christmas, and a couple days later, turned the leftovers into a unicorn French toast soufflé.

Also

I read (not much lol):

Good news about cheese—it’s much healthier than you thought – The Washington Post
36 TV Shows We Can’t Wait To See in 2023 - Vulture

I tweeted:

In a fit of rage about now-congressman George Santos. Ladies, the next time you have imposter syndrome, just remember a man lied about his entire life and got elected to Congress.

I tricked:

My husband into watching Fair Play on Hulu, a documentary inspired by the bestselling book of the same name, which examines domestic inequity and a mother’s invisible load. He won’t admit that it resonated with him, but the trash has been empty ever since, so I think it did.

I followed:

Lyndsay Rush’s fresh, funny, insightful poetry via her Instagram account, @maryoliversdrunkcousin.

Your wins

Over winter break, Lindsay witnessed her son overcome his fears while they were on vacation. They’ve been putting in the work for three years. It must have felt wonderful to watch him so unfazed by things that caused him crippling anxiety in the past. What a huge win for the whole family!