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Okay, I don't usually watch E! TV, and my boyfriend watches it even less, but when I went in to the living room last night, to my astonishment he was watching the TOP 50 Fashion Do's and Don'ts. The show was well done, with some wry humor here and there, and managed to keep my interest. But I was saddened by one of their fashion don'ts -- the schrunchie.

Now how the hell am I going to wear my hair when I haven't washed it, or worse when I haven't gotten a haircut in six or seven months or years?

As you may have guessed, I'm no fashion guru -- never have been. There was a time in my life when I went barefoot and wore torn bell-bottoms, but those were the hippie days -- after the first couple of years, I stopped getting looks. In fact, at that time I considered anyone who followed fashion to be some sort of brainwashed, bleating sheep -- I just couldn't understand it -- the worst perpetrators of this 'Simon says' mentality were the quote unquote hippies themselves. They were supposedly going against the status quo, but wouldn't be caught dead with the 'wrong' hairdo and they always sneered at my makeshift purses too (ahem).

That being said, in my older, now wiser years, I have come to understand the desire for fashion and I appreciate it, especially if it is packaged elegantly. But I still don't have the time or money to dress well. I told you how I dressed in the 60's but, I have to confess, you'd do a double-take at some of my outfits even now, in fact, especially now. Sometimes I will be in a store, and it is only after I've gotten a couple of odd looks that I realize I'm wearing those really comfortable 'khakis' that land right above my ankle, with my socks showing and my really old and very puffy sneakers that make my feet look yet another couple sizes bigger than the 9's they are, poking out grandly.

I would have made a great guy. I really don't care when people look at me, starting at my feet and traveling incredulously up to see whose face wears these clothes. They always avert their eyes if they notice me catch them; and it's kind of funny watching them trying not to laugh, especially if they have a cohort nearby. I think it might have upset me when I was younger, though I'd have brushed it off by exclaiming how rude, how arrogant and how snobbish of them. Now I laugh and make a note to tell my sisters next time I wear these pants to their house that I wore them out to the store.

Francesca Goldston is a writer, living in Atlanta, happily surrounded by three cats and one sweetheart. She is currently writing a murder mystery, which she manages to avoid working on as much as possible by submitting articles and blogging at the web site noted here.