GIGI GOES GAGA

SHOOTING THE FASHION POLICE

I suppose it's evident that I love fashion more than the next person -- depending on who that person next to me is, of course. My love for fashion is much more than just a predilection for clothes shopping; I view it as art and business masterfully blended and find its constant change exciting -- and yet I don't take it too seriously. I do spend a bulk of my time reading fashion magazines and trade publications, scouring the internet for on-the-minute updates, and - yes -- checking out what's in stores (OK -- shopping), so much so that I'm pretty well-versed with the latest looks and upcoming trends, but it's all purely for my personal entertainment. Watching, say, a Vera Wang Fall fashion show online can give me the same kind of extraordinary rush that a Lakers fan got out of following the 2009 NBA championship games. And speaking of games, my idea of one is walking into a store, spotting a dominant trend, and betting to myself whether it will fly or fail -- and I love it when I'm right, even if I don't get to win a prize.

One would think I'd be the kind of person who gets a thrill out of Fashion Police type of articles, posts, and TV shows -- you know, the ones that declare when someone's got it all wrong. The ones that sneer at the "worst dressed" celebrities, even the ones who look all schlumpy on their days off. Well, I don't. The truth is that these irritate the heck out of me almost all of the time (except when self-declared fashion experts get it wrong themselves -- and then I revel in shadenfreude like an alcoholic trapped inside a bar). It simply reeks of snooty superiority and it's often downright cruel. Besides, if you read as many fashion articles as I do, you'd know that oftentimes, what one editor thinks is brilliant is the same as what another commentator condemns as hideous. Anyway, I think people should be able to express themselves and have fun with what they're wearing, or at the very least feel comfortable and be able to move around and do the things they need to do without feeling unencumbered by what they have on.

Of course, as with everything else in life, there are exceptions. There are occasions when what you choose to wear shows respect and courtesy. For instance, I think guests should make an effort to look nice when they attend a wedding -- it lets the hosts know that their event mattered, that it meant something special to their guests as well. But I also believe it's never a good thing to try to outshine or outdo the bride either; those who do are, in my opinion at least, tacky and rude and perhaps horribly insecure or alarmingly narcissistic. And so, for the same reason, I take care to look properly somber at a funeral or wake, the same way I would want to look festive at a summer night's party or elegant at a dinner event. If the host thinks I was important enough to invite, then I feel it's just right to reciprocate and show you feel the same way about him or her. The effort and consideration is what matters.

There are places where image also matters. For instance, business dress codes serve a purpose; they express expectations and priorities to the employee and communicate something about the company to its clients and vendors. And even in workplaces where there are none, it also reveals the same to all of the above. And let's not forget that it's considered sage advice to dress for the position you want rather than for the one you already have. Sometimes there are fashion rules, at times there's just common sense.

Otherwise I don't think it's anyone else's business what any of us choose to wear. I might softly giggle at the sight of the woman in front of me in the supermarket checkout line who's wearing a wild profusion of different animal prints from top to toe. I may do a double-take when I see a girl at the mall oblivious to the sight of her many rolls of belly fat fully exposed from her squeezing into a too-tight short tee and very-low-cut skinny jeans. Most likely I will roll my eyeballs when I see the top of a guy's boxer shorts above a pair of pants four sizes too big. But no matter what I might think or how I react, it's not my world that others only live in and I don't get to decide who's in or out. It's only my opinion and I don't have a license to inflict cruelty on anyone just because we don't see things the same way. No one does.

SHAPE SHIFTING

I'm trying to find my shape again (and, yes, I'm perfectly aware that round is a shape, too). For the past 10 years I've been trying to lose the same amount of weight; instead, I lose and gain it back over and over again. I have an extensive wardrobe consisting of clothes in all the different sizes I wear during my perpetual weight cycle -- I never stay in one size long enough to wear out any of my garments and so I can reach for them again whenever I have to.

I used to be able to lose five or more pounds in a week simply by depriving myself of food. That, in a nutshell, is my problem. I always knew that no matter how big I got, I could lose it using a combination of temporary starvation and my normal nervous energy (I fidget a lot and I'm never still even if I appear to be). But now I'm at the age when everything that used to work no longer does, and I'm not used to actually doing any kind of real work to stay physically healthy or fit so nothing works right now.

The last time I was at my goal weight was in 1995. My friend J asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding and I didn't want to be the only tubby one in the pictures. So I lost 30 lbs. in less than three months and everyone was saying how fabulous I looked. I loved how I looked in clothes again and dressed in what I wanted to wear rather than in what simply looked good on me. Obviously I started putting on the pounds pretty quickly, and 10 years later I weighed the heaviest I'd ever been in my life. Fortunately since then I've adopted a few better habits that have kept me from getting to that point ever again. I don't even own any clothes in that size anymore.

So lately I've been eating healthier and moving more -- no drastic steps, just little ones that I keep adding to my daily routine. But now I'm ready to go full speed ahead and start seeing results that inspire me. I won't bore you with details -- I mean, who cares to know what I eat or don't eat, or how many miles I walk a day? Here's what I will say, however:

1. I don't care about being able to get into a bikini. Even in the days when I was told I had a hot bod (1986-1987, just for the record) I never wore one. So why start now?

2. Therefore, I don't aspire for a six-pack or any kind of ripping in my ab area. No one's going to see it anyway. I want sculpted biceps and triceps, though. I don't have loose skin flapping around in that area now (thank heavens for small favors), but I want to look like I can beat up anybody who says I look fat even when I've achieved my fitness goals. This is because...

3. I want to stay curvy; I like my boobs and my ass because even at my age they don't sag. I just don't want to lose so much weight that my face sinks in and starts looking old. Do you know why older celebrities and society women start injecting all kinds of strange substances into their faces and chests to plump 'em up? Because they're too skinny, that's why. But for some reason people these days seem to think curvy means fat. No way -- they all can watch my hips swish beguilingly as I turn my back on them and sashay away.

4. I told my friends that I've broken up with a bunch of really yummy foods that I'm going to miss and most of them tell me that I don't have to, that all I need to do is maintain a healthy relationship with them. Well, I already thought I was, so I'm going to have to compare my recent decision to that of breaking up with a boyfriend. It only hurts so bad because it hurt so good, and if I stick around it won't be good for me in the long run. Eventually, when the time is right and when I get myself under control, I may be able to ring up the troublemaker for a booty call now and then and not suffer any serious consequences. But in the meantime I say to thee, "It's not you, it's me" -- and I'm outie.

See you all in my skinny jeans soon.

LIKE WE USED TO

Just wondering -- and I may need to ask my other guy friends what they think because I have no idea if this particular fellow would give me a truthful answer today, even after all these many years.

When he and I were "seeing" each other (I use this term loosely because we agreed we couldn't possibly be in any kind of committed relationship at the time), he told me that once he'd been intimate with a woman, he would forever see her as someone he once had sex with. He even recreated the scenario for me on one of the many times we'd hang out in the living room of his post-war apartment (I can still visualize myself sprawled out on his brown leather couch, enjoying the feel of the cool, thick wood floors under my feet). The way it would go, he said, was he'd bump into her unexpectedly, they'd end up making small talk, and all the time he'd be thinking in the back of his mind as she spoke: "We slept together."

So I saw him recently, maybe somewhat unexpectedly (but only because seeing him always gives me a bit of a shock for some reason). It's been more than 15 years since I last left his apartment barely after sunrise like I used to. That early morning he, as always, walked me to my car wearing a rumpled university sweatshirt and a crooked smile and then kissed me goodbye, as I watched him slowly walk back across the courtyard to climb the stairs to his apartment while I waited for my windshield to defrost. Now understand that I have no actual idea what our final close encounter was really like because when it happened I had no inkling that it would be our last; for me it probably was just another morning goodbye. Anyway, we've seen each other perhaps a handful of times since then; each time I wondered if he was thinking what he said he would unfailingly -- just because he said he always would.

Of course, this means that when I see him I end up thinking just that -- even if it's not what I'd like to be thinking of because then I get embarrassed to look straight into his eyes when we say hello and my hug's just slightly bit tentative though still warm, because I'm always happy to see him. He's almost exactly where I thought he would be at this point in his life (perhaps because he used to tell me all about his plans and dreams back then) and I'm nowhere close to where I once expected I'd be at, though we're both in good places in our lives now. But still, only because of that dumb thing he once said a long time ago, he'll always be someone I once slept with -- even if he's really much more than that.

Perhaps it would be better if he told me he'd always be thinking: "We loved each other once." Yes, I suppose I'd much prefer that, even now when we both love other people and especially when everything else that we used to do is slowly fading away from my memory. Then at least there'd be nothing for me to feel embarrassed about.