Things may be bad but for once there’s a silver lining and here he is.

This is Mac, who agreed to let me pose with him so I could tell people he’s my boyfriend. He didn’t act all flattered, he was more like Okay, do your thing but hurry up.

When you see a man in an alligator suit with rings on every finger, you know that life is a giant gumball machine with those plastic toy capsules where you want the little bouncy ball but you keep getting a sticky hand or a smiley-face eraser or if luck is really against you, out comes Donald Trump.

But one in a while, you get a dazzling prize.

Behold my new boyfriend and style icon, Mac, who said he found his suit at the National Council Jewish Women’s Thriftshop on Venice and Grandview.

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I forgot to say that Sunday was my birthday. Now I am 58 and none the wiser. My husband took me to a huge botanica where I squealed with pleasure at the racks and racks of magical oils and candles. We thought it would be nice to get a picture of me with the big Santa  Muerta, but look! You can barely tell us apart.

In my imagination, I look more like this:

or even this:

Oh never mind.   I guess I can start cultivating an eccentric old lady look, although it seems like a lot of trouble. Furthermore, now that it’s been packaged and approved by Topshop, its appeal is kind of dubious.

What  brought  this on, do you think? Is it Tavi-related? Is it Daphne Guinness? Is it Little Edie Beale? Is it that blog about Advanced Style with all the wacky looking old ladies?

Whatever the reason for officially dictating a trend called Eccentric Lady, it is by definition less original and appealing. Fuck it.

I’m sticking with Geriatric Tomboy ,    but easing into Slob. Maybe it’s more like   Crypto-Hipster Slob  now that I have a big tattoo.

Let’s brace ourselves for an army of young girls wearing turbans, big sunglasses, ratty furs, granny dresses and hideous brooches. If they can loose the scary Jeffrey Campbell shoes, maybe it will be a blessing in disguise.

An article in the New York Times offers an affectionate tribute to Amy Winhouse’s style, giving her credit for creating a unique look based on several Bad-Girl templates.

The article reminded me of how many girls still try to imitate Bettie Page. There are millions of clones out there with dyed black bangs and deep red lipstick, all going for the same trampy   rockabilly look. With all due respect, it’s a look I’m really sick of.   I think it should be saved for Halloween or costume parties.

The article also led me to the work of Karlheinz Weinberger, a Swiss photographer whose pictures of sleazy hooligans and teenage delinquents made him famous among artists and intelligentsia. Looking at his work, I finally undertand the aesthetic that Gnarlitude Jen and her ilk are so infatuated with.

Biker  paraphernalia, big messy hair, tough sullen expressions, it’s all there in Weinberger’s old photos. It’s a look that I personally affected when I was around twelve years old, trying to copy the tough Mexican gang girls who represented rebellion. By fourteen, though, I was over it.

Today, the only way to be a style rebel would be to dress inconspicuously.

Still, I’m happy to remember Amy as an original force in style as well as music. Her mixture of   50s and 60s influences, punk, pin-up, tough, girlie, retro and rapper, added up to something fresh, defiant and  irresistible.

God bless her, and all bad girls everywhere.

(Watch on youTube for HD version) (Yes, the filmmaker has a cold)

Ali knows that Fashion Editors like attention! Her umbrella is a good way to stab underlings and to teach Tavi how to really block the view at a runway show. See how she has artfully exposed her belly button, too.

A good Fashion Editor needs to glare. Perhaps her assistant has mispronounced “Margiela?”

Athif is rocking the shit out of this season’s pagan feather and fur accents. His bedroom slippers say: “I make the rules, you just follow them!”

Skye is a goddess and she knows it. Don’t make her mad.

Here, Skye rocks the Wonder Woman look that brings Anna dello Russo to her knees. Sunglasses and crazy head-wear are key to Fashion Editor Style.

Kate is shit with a camera, because it’s not her job, damn you! Her job is to strut around in her clunky heels, waving her fan and barking “Show me something else!” and “Who’s going to carry me up those stairs?”

Enna knows that Fashion Editors can look like hookers and still feel superior. Her mini-dress and heels say “Fuck me!” while her expression says “Fuck off!” She probably learned this from Carine Roitfeld, who is jealous of her radiant youth.

Behold TheShoeGirl. What’s not to love? As you know, she is sex on wheels. Her cigarette and BlackBerry show that she means business. Her fur and heels are forbidding, but the flash of tummy makes her almost human.

Note the oversize sunglasses and the bossy attitude.   Classic Fashion Editor.

Finally, a special treat: Sister Wolf flaunts her Fashion Editor Style in front of her admiring dog. Leather shorts from Queen Michelle, Fluffy gilet from Queen Marie, vintage gold Gucci sunglasses (that you can buy if you’re interested.)

Thank you, Fashion Editors! xoxo

*Those of you who didn’t step up to this challenge, Grrrr.   Next time, no excuses.

A young child might look at this photo and say, “Oh, look, clowns!” But we know better.

Our next reader challenge is Fashion Editor Style. Can you look effortlessly crazy, chic, snooty, and age-inappropriate? Then get someone to take your picture and send it to sisterwolf666@gmail.com.

(TheShoeGirl and Rosie, that means you.)

TheShoeGirl knows how to rock this look. Note the live animals that accent her outfit.

Marie is rocking the shit out of it, right?? She’s got a fucking teapot, for godsake!

Juri always knows how to kill it. I don’t know what that crap is in his sock but it’s totally rad.

Kate B is rocking layers and layers of insane opulent/dustbin goodness. No wonder her blog just won an award!

Rebecca’s look is an update to this post, as she had to wrangle her cat, which I mistook for a platypus at first.

Aja is probably going to rock that vase on her head when she hits the streets in all her finery.

Rosie has curated this look to PERFECTION! Even Ted Bundy would admit it!

Here is more Rosie, if you can handle it. Tavi Shmavi, this girl can style like a motherfucking riot.*

TheShoeGirl not only knows where her pussy is, she is killing Sea of Shoe with these heels, while killing this insanely chic look for Fall 2010.

~

Thank you geniuses for the mad inspiration!

God, I hate change, and now Shopbop has ignored the maxim “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” I was perfectly happy with the website and its Dysfunctional Family of glaring anorexic models.

Now, they have introduced a handy way to shop by giving you 5 style profiles.   And I’m too paralyzed with indecision to go forward.   Am I Bohemian, Edgy, Girly, Classic or Casual Chic?

I’m going to rule out Bohemian. I’m pretty sure I hate that look. I’m thinking fringe, beads, caftans, headbands, horrible prints, and stuff they sell at Anthropologie.   I even hated that shit when I was a hippie.

Casual chic? As if. Girly? I can’t even walk in heels! Classic? What do they mean by that?? Classic what? Classic Secretary or Classic Hooker? That leaves me with Edgy.

Please god, don’t say I’m Edgy. I know that’s not my category. I don’t have any harem pants or big clompy wedges. I don’t want a bracelet shaped like a chicken claw! Leave me alone, Edgy!

I have already identified my style as Geriatric Tomboy, but they didn’t list it at Shopbop. If you have a style they overlooked, now is the time to define it.

When Cathy Horyn wrote a piece in the NYT called “Irony and the Old Lady” she was complaining about women who seem to deliberately wear silly clothes after the age of 50. The complaint was picked up in The Cut, which posed the question “Can Women Over 50 Pull Off Ironic Fashion?”

I think the real question should be: Why don’t these writers know what irony is?   Is everybody Alanis Morissette all of a sudden?

Ms. Horyn seems to mean over-the-top when she alludes to ironic fashion. She cites Anna Piaggi, who is way, way over the top. But is Piaggi being ironic? She is, if she finds her own look ridiculous and isn’t letting on. But if she dresses to please herself and to make the statement that More is More, that’s not being ironic!

Then, Ms. Horyn considers socks-with-heels, and vintage straw hats. She doesn’t like them, but why does she find them ironic? Maybe she thinks ironic means, stuff she doesn’t like.

The examples of older women dressing ironically in The Cut include Cher, who just has bad taste, and Diane Keaton, whose style is extremely eccentric. Where’s the irony?! Then the author gives us Vivienne Westwood, who looks glamorous and punky as always, and decides, Yes! She can pull it off.   Again, Vivienne has a distinctive style, but where’s the irony?

A long time ago, I thought it was funny to wear t shirts advertising bands I hated. Then one day I explained to my husband that I was wearing some hideous floral printed jeans because a friend gave them to me and they were SO OBVIOUSLY something I would never wear. Haha, get it? Neither did my husband. He pointed out that I was simply having a joke with myself that no one else   was in on. Oops! I was being too ironic for my own good, at that point.

Last night I watched Ghost World for the millionth time, and even though I’ve come to accept the ending as inevitable instead of heart-breaking, I was struck anew by how much I identify with Enid. Still.

Enid’s outfits are all ironic. Each item looks carefully picked for its irony factor. She works hard at it, too. Remember when she goes to the trouble of dying her hair green, but nobody gets her ironic reference to “original 1977 punk” fashion?   Poor Enid.   “Everybody’s stupid!” is her stance toward the world, especially when they don’t appreciate her studied irony.

If what you’re wearing says “You probably think I mean this but I don’t!” then you are being ironic.   If you just look like you don’t know how awful you look (Betsey Johnson, Cher, Madonna at the Met) then you are a victim of bad judgment. Period, godammit.

For an essay on the meaning of irony, go here.

A reader brought up the subject of Cher, and while I’d rather ignore her, the issue of how to age gracefully is never far from my mind.

Regarding Cher and her reprise of the see-through bodysuit, it was horrible and inappropriate the first time around (in 1992?) and it still is today. Who gives a shit if she wears it at 40, 60, or 80 years old? The woman wants to look stupid and embarrassing; She’s Cher! It’s her shtick.

The problem is, we don’t want her influencing other older women who might see this as a green light to Dress As Young as They Feel.   Let us not encourage the tragic notion that age doesn’t matter. When we see a woman who seems blind to her own folly, and I’m talking to you Madge, it’s just sad.

Vivienne Westwood has managed to carry her look into old age, in part because she’s simply a great-looking woman, and because she knows what suits her. Maybe having the hot younger husband helps as well.

But Betsey Johnson makes me feel depressed. She looks like she doesn’t get it. Is she being ironic by looking like she’s nuts, or is she sincere? Patricia Fields is scary looking, but I’m guessing she works hard at being that scary. Pam Hogg looks nuts too, and I’d still like to know how old she is. Her look seems to say, I’m a Rule Breaker, Go to Hell if You Can’t Dig Me.

Most of us, though, have to be willing to accommodate old age into our look. It’s not nice to look 18 from behind and and then give someone a heart attack when you turn around. Half the woman in L.A. are unaware of this simple rule of etiquette. I personally have asked several friends to let me know when I start committing this gaffe but I think they pity me too much to let me have it.

To tell you the truth, now that Patti Smith has dyed her graying hair, I am feeling a bit disoriented.

What is Patti’s message to me? If she’s just saying, Fuck it, Who Wants Gray Hair, then I’m on board. Women who let their hair go gray are so misguided. It’s just bad, and that’s that. They might as well go around screaming I NEED ESTROGEN! (Fine, I have screamed that at my family on a couple of occasions, but that’s because I could feel my estrogen plummeting. They didn’t even need me to tell them, apparently.)

Women whose style is always evolving will probably have the best chance of carrying off old age without evoking pity or shock. Me, I’m in for trouble. My style hasn’t changed, but old women in tight jeans tend to offend me. I’m thinking, oh god, Woodstock is over, lady.

And they’re probably thinking the same thing about me!