F-f-f-f-f-f-fashion

I am not what one would call a fashion plate. Generally, I'm happy enough if I'm clean, my clothes fit, I'm showing a tasteful amount of cleavage, my shoes are cute, and I don't want to sit in the closet and have a good cry. That said, I read magazines, watch TV, and live in society, so I have a basic understanding of what is "in", even if I don't follow it (I'm a big believer is anything that looks crappy on you is out of style, even if you bought it off a runway during fashion week) . I also have a full length mirror, which tells me with heart-wrenching honesty when I'm making a mistake (unlike the mirrors in Nordstroms, which magically make me appear tall, thin, sans muffin top, but with a tush).

This leads me up to a woman I saw at Publix today. I was so fascinated by her garb, that I followed her up and down several aisles. She was wearing fabulous wedge heel boots, the kind I've been coveting FOREVER but seemed to have missed the portion where she looked in a full length mirror. Or down, even. On the first aisle, I thought she had on black skinny jeans, tucked into the yummy boots, but with something weird, so I kept watching. Then, on the next aisle, I realized they weren't skinny jeans, they more like leggings with almost tuxedo-pants seams going up the side. On aisle three I got close enough to see that they weren't even leggings, but moderately opaque pantyhose. They weren't providing enough coverage to be termed "tights", and when she bent over a shelf, I could see that she wasn't wearing anything under them (a lesson that nothing good comes from stalking). Did she not notice that her skin was clearly visible through the hose? Did she pose in the mirror this morning and feel awesome about herself? I really wonder about that and while I utterly celebrate those with the confidence to wear whatever makes their little hearts feel happy, I sometimes ponder over where confidence ends and delusion sets in.