Jill Taylor, the 2022 Fashion Influencer from 1997

Home Improvement, 1991-1999

I sure do love a rewatch of a 90s classic. While making my way through Home Improvement on Hulu this past month, I was inspired to fix loose drawer handles around the house, replace the pot lights in the bedroom, and entirely makeover the guest bathroom. An unexpected and welcome bonus, but not the reason for this post.

What really struck me was the changing fashion of series mom, Jill Taylor. Seasons 1-3 did her dirty; we're talking  shapeless sack dresses in fade-away beige, hide-my curves cardigans, drab haircuts and shoes better suited for working assembly lines. By season 4, her character is pursuing a masters degree in psychology and reconnecting with herself as a person outside of being a mother and this is where we see a bit of style creep into her looks. A style that has found its way back onto the racks of clothing stores everywhere in 2022 - only this time, the looks are being worn by women 20 years younger than the formidable 40-something.

Take a look at some of these fits and then go peep the kids at your local mall. Actually, where do kids hang out these days cause it sure as heck can't be the mall?

A 90s icon, the loose fit overalls with a white tee

Another 90s winner, the oversized flannel

A nice corduroy shacket over a basic tee

A cropped shacket and the source code for seemingly all jeans today: the faded mom jean

A baby tee under a body-con mini dress with chunky loafers - very Cher Horowitz 

Keeping it fresh with crisp white sneaks and exposed socks

The casual professional pairing a fitted blazer with a striped tee and of course, mom jeans

Literally the most ubiquitous outfit on the Instagram fashion accounts these days

Vests for the preppy-types

Vests for the artsy-types

Vests for when your t-shirts are all dirty

Push and Pull

I'm not really worried about aging.

My ever-increasing gray hairs bum me out.

I think I'm in pretty good physical shape.

My back hurts in the morning.

I have a good job and make a good wage.

The cost of living really stresses me out.

I don't care about dressing cool.

I don't want to look out-of-touch.

I think I'm decently funny and smart.

I worry people think I'm lame and dumb.

I'm content.

Should I be striving for more?

I Don't Think it Had to Go That Way

You know when you plan a girls trip with your best firend to get away from it all and you stop for a drink a few miles outside of town to kick it off in style and then 3 days later you're driving off a cliff to your death with said best friend? Yeah, neither do I, and It's why I find myself at the keyboard today. 

Last night I watched Themla and Louise for the first time in at least 10 years, and definitely for the first time with a head full of adult thoughts and 2022 societal norms. The thought that these women were so belittled by their partners and so relegated to insignificance in their daily lives, that the events of this film unfolded the way they did was really shocking to me on this rewatch. 

Thelma was being violently (is there any other type) sexually assaulted on the way to rape when her friend Louise jumps in and does just about the only thing that would have got this man to stop - she shoots him dead. Figuring they didn't have a shot in hell of being believed about the situation, they head out on the run, discovering themselves in the process.

I had a really tough time watching this 1991 story with my 2022 sensibilities. I know it wasn't a documentary but have things really changed so much in 30 years that in 1991 these women felt this was the best path forward? Were they so belittled and relegated in their lives that this path made sense? Was society so unwilling to open their ears to two panicked and scared women that running away made sense? 

I don't have answers to these questions but it has caused me to ponder the feminine struggle through the decades as they lead to my 30-something life in the 2020s. Inching forward, creeping back. There's a lot that's better today and a lot that has completely eroded away again in the last few years. If you're reading this, yay!, but also, sorry there's not a focus point or realization beyond the persisting twisty, uphill road that is equal rights and confidence for women.

The "Death" of the Romantic Comedy

Ahhh, the 1990's, the golden ages of rom-coms. Sleepless in Seattle, Pretty Woman, Four Weddings and a Funeral, It Could Happen to You, Notting Hill, and on and on and on. There were so many romantic comedies made that sub-genres were invented. You've got your raunchy rom-coms like Something About Mary, your dramatic rom-coms like Sliding Doors, and teen rom-coms like Clueless and Can't Hardly Wait. They. Were. Everywhere. And we ate them up.

At the helm of these money-making juggernauts was...the movie star. We couldn't get enough of Julia Roberts, Sandra Bullock, Hugh Grant and Tom Hanks. But we had one little problem, and the industry had one giant advantage: access. We couldn't just see these stars any old time we pleased; our access to celebrities was very limited and controlled. 

Back in the 1990s, opportunities to lay eyes on your favorite star were few and far between. You could stay up late to catch them on Letterman, tune in early to an awards show and catch them flashing their pearly whites on the red carpet, or pick up a People magazine to catch a multi-page story "tell-all".  But even all of the above happened within a quick window: movie release date announced, talk show rounds, People magazine article, movie in theaters, nothing, nothing, nothing, awards show appearance if you're (they're) lucky, and poof! gone again until their next movie. We were clamoring to see our favorite stars and after commercial buildup, the release of the movie was our big payoff.

Julia Roberts on David Letterman, 1997.
There's only like, 300 pixels in this whole image!

Reason #2 we went to the theater to see rom-coms: screen size. Back in the 1990s, outside of the one rich friend we all had, the standard television size in a US home was about 25 inches and most homes only had the one. This was a standard definition, tube TV with no pause or rewind features - what you caught was what you caught. If your favorite girl-next-door movie star was appearing on The Tonight Show on Monday and the football game ran long, too bad for you, you've missed her. Hope you can catch her next appearance somewhere.  And let's say you were lucky enough to catch your favorite star schmoozing with Letterman, regaling us with witty anecdotes from their glamorous life, it just wasn't big, wasn't the larger than life experience afforded to us with a theater viewing. There was motive to get out and go see them on...the big screen!

Now let's return to present day, a time where access to celebrity and technology are literally 2 of our smallest, non-existent worries. I can open my phone and watch Jennifer Garner drop her kids off at school then teach us how to make a Halloween costume. I can see Tom Hanks post behind the scenes photos and videos of his latest movie, I can literally send Julia Roberts a message telling her I have the same coffee mug as her, and she can write back or 'like' my message. I have a direct line to pretty much any celebrity I'm curious about. Don't even get me started on podcasts...

Now technology. I have 3 television sets in my home now, one of which is an 80 inch monstrosity that cost just a few hundred dollars more than my family's big 32 inch TV did when purchased in 1998. Because of this, I'm ok to wait for the video release of the latest romantic comedy; I don't need to "experience it on the big screen" because the big screen is in my basement. I don't need to go and have a shared communal theater experience with friends because I can send my group chat a screenshot of Julia Roberts liking my coffee mug comment and we can go nuts over that. 

So stop blaming consumers for this supposed death. You guys are the ones that issued celebs blue check marks and gave us access, you guys are the ones that kept making TVs bigger and bigger, you guys are the ones that increased ticket prices to an insane number. I still like romantic comedies and I still want to watch them, but the conditions surrounding the experience have changed significantly and you need to recognize that.

Why I'm Not a Morning Person

Yesterday morning I decided to do my workout before work so I would have a free evening. I woke up super early, jammed on my sweat-wicking clothes in the dark and headed downstairs. I'm a mere six minutes removed from my peaceful nights' slumber at this point and my muscles are not yet on the same page as my brain for what's about to happen. 

I decide to be kind to myself and do a 10 minute yoga/stretch to warm up so I don't hurt myself. However, I have to select the warm-up class from the hundreds offered - instructor, music, focus areas, etc. 4 minutes added to the process. With warm-up and ride in the books, I realize I'm a bit shaky from exerting so much energy so suddenly, so I must select a cool down stretch to center myself before the crazy day gets underway. This selection process is easy as they give you a few to choose from automatically when you finish a ride so minimal selection time added here. 44 minutes.

Ok, I'm feeling accomplished and it's still early. Time to head up to the kitchen for some coffee. Should I be drinking coffee right after a workout? Let me do a quick Google search...7 minutes of scrolling tells me it's probably just fine, but as usual for the internet, 8% of people swear you'll drop dead immediately. Phone's in my hand so autopilot-style I open Instagram. Scroll, scroll, 2 minutes, 3..STOP! You have to be somewhere. Make your coffee! I make coffee in what we now refer to as 'chaos method' - I fill the carafe with however much tap water I have patience to wait for, then I pour the coffee grins directly into the basket without measuring; I know roughly how high it needs to be filled to equal 1 tablespoon per cup. I shave off a clean 60 seconds here. 11 minutes.

While the room slowly fills with the heavenly aroma of roasted coffee, I take this time to go wash my face. I recently learned one shouldn't wash their face in the shower because it's too hot and will dry out the skin. So now I wash in the sink, but must add 2 minutes to the cleaning time to sop up all the water that now flows over my countertops like a river in monsoon season. 6 minutes. 

Coffee's ready. Heaven forbid I sit and drink in silence on the couch, that's wasting time. I take my cup up to my bedroom and together, Mr. Coffee and I decide what we'll wear for the day. I know what you're thinking: pick out your clothes the night before and buy back that precious couch-coffee time. You're absolutely right, and most days I do exactly this, but on this particular occasion my morning vibe does not match the previous evening's vibe. Last night I thought it would be a jumpsuit and mules kind of day, and this morning I'm very much feeling Stan Smiths, stretchy denim and a well fitted but cozy sweater. 7 minutes. 

Time for Mr. Coffee to take his break while I hop in the shower. Wash hair, wash body, shave: which one is getting cut for time on account of the unplanned 10 minute warm up stretch? I decide to compromise - I'll wash my hair, wash my body and shave, but I won't style my har after the shower, I'll just pull it back into a wet ponytail for the day. I think that suits the cozy-but-fitted sweater vibe anyway. 12 minutes.

Shower's complete but now i'm sweating and not quite ready to put on my clothes. I throw on a robe and go downstairs to pack my lunch, making sure to bring along my good friend Mr. Coffee. Apple (I'll wash it at the office before eating; 1 minute saved), leftover Pad Thai (just take the whole container, there's not time to find a Tupperware and portion out my share and his share. Sorry babe). Stand in front of the cool open refrigerator door and take a few deep breaths. 3 minutes 30 seconds. 

Successfully cooled down and back upstairs I throw on my clothes, pull my hair back, slip on my jewelry, run a mascara wand over my eyelashes, and swipe some chapstick across my lips. 2 minutes.

I head back downstairs. (Note to self: maybe you can shorten your workout because you run up and down the stairs so much getting ready?) I swing my backpack over my shoulder, place Mr. Coffee gently in the sink, and trot downstairs to the garage. I start my car, and give it a sec to warmup, using that time to select my audiobook and program Waze. I back out of the driveway, hit the main road, honk at some cars for not advancing efficiently enough on the green arrow, and take a deep breath. I turn the corner to merge onto the freeway and am met with blazing lights and sirens - there's been an accident and the freeway is down to half a lane. I put her in park and reflect on all the ill-fated time-saving efforts I made this morning, only to find myself trapped and unavoidably late. I should have had my couch coffee. Next time.