Observations on culture and civilization...or, "Out to Lunch."

Our lovely daughter, beloved firstborn child, invited us to lunch yesterday. She works in Denver's Tech Center, a veritable beehive of brainwaves gathered in one district for the good of commerce and mankind in general, not to mention confusion of the highways and byways as suburbanites the city over bustle in and out to transact their business. We met at one of the trendy fresh-mex type restaurants our fair city offers. The interior is sort of grungy-loft meets sophisticated bistro and the general experience is a good one, overall.

As I sat staking our claim at the tall table waiting to have my food brought to me by my faithful husband/slave (can you tell who's pretty confident that her spouse doesn't read her blog?) I watched with amusement as an onslaught of high schoolers filed in for their lunch break. High school students anywhere make for interesting observation, but this particular school is the cherry on top of the metro area's educational offerings, drawing as it does from some pretty exclusive housing areas. And I made some interesting discoveries:

1. UGG slippers aren't just for the house anymore. I'm a bit chagrined that I had confined wearing mine to my home-on-the-couch days when I could have been wearing them out to lunch. Of the dozen or so teenage girls present, four were wearing slippers, and three of them were UGG's. (and for the curious among us, the remainder was divided between athletic sneakers, fashion sneakers, and one pair of flip flops (kindly appreciate the effort it took not to call them thongs, because that is what they were when I wore them, somewhere between the dark ages and Y2K). ::sigh::
2. T shirts, in order to be modish, must reach from shoulders to the region somewhere between thigh to above the knees, with no extraneous material from shoulders to hem. Clingier? Better. Extra points if cleavage shows (several girls demonstrated distinct desire to overachieve in this area). Truthfully I'm fairly comfortable with the length, as I can remember (not so very long ago) when "baby" T's were all the rage and while the cleavage and clinging points were somewhat the same, the hemline rule was pretty much the opposite, requiring the greatest distance possible between the top of the pants and the bottom of the top. Notice my omission of the term "waistband" in regards to the pants, as the waist no long has anything to do with any sort of trouser manufactured in recent memory. It's like the dread fear of momjeanitis has infected the very denim of the junior set and threads instinctively lurch away from the body center until brought short by sudden realization that plunging a centimeter further will condemn them for a whole other reason. Maybe I exaggerate. It's more like a half a centimeter. Which leads me to number...3.
3. When was velour accepted back into the fashion fold? Last I heard it was hanging next to MomJeans, and now it is suddenly au courant, admittedly with a tweak or two. Most noticeably a derivative of #2's pants analysis, although the top of the pants seems to have owner assistance in the southern migration, as folding it over seems to be the preferred arangement. This facilitates display of the tags at the rear, which not really THAT long ago was a social solecism reserved for those on the farthest edges of high school popularity rankings. The subset of the overfolded top band contains garden variety sweat pants, although admittedly unlike any sweat pants I own. I'm guessing that is probably a good thing, however. Me not owning the skimpy version, I mean.

About the time the High School crowd is scooping up their belongings to exit, another wave of diners begins to appear. This can best be described as Young Professional, and it's an interesting comparison to the previous group. Gone are the slippers and the tags, to be replaced with ultra slim dress boots (extra credit the higher and skinnier the heel and the pointier the toe, it would seem. Again, a few overachievers) and slender skirts. One must hope that the boots are hollow, because the slenderness of the skirts doesn't bode well for the consumption of the large burritos our fresh-mex vendors have to offer.

The most disturbing trend amongst the Young Professional women, however, isn't clothing at all, but rather an alarming issue with their hair. The first time I noticed I figured it was an anomaly, perhaps the young lady had a pet rat that slept with her, and while she was sleeping chewed off the back of her hair up past the nape of her neck, but leaving the front (wanting to avoid discovery, I guessed). Before we left, though, I counted three other Young Professional women with similar issues, so I can only surmise that a rogue hairstylist has such a pet rat, and determined to pass off her shorn locks as the "latest thing."

She has some incredible influence, too, as I noticed (while enduring bits of Idol-meets- Jerry-Lewis-only-they're-even-MORE-annoying-and-less- beloved-of-the-French) that Mrs. David Beckham fell for the hairdresser's ruse, too. Tsk tsk. What's next, Posh? Velour Mom Jeans?