Call the Fashion Police

One of my biggest fears, aside from rodents, is to be a fashion DON'T. I don't need to be a fashion DO, just NOT a DON'T.
I don't want my ass plastered all over the back page of Glamour with my eyes blacked out.
I don't want Perez Hilton drawing glasses on my face.
And I don't want my friends to whisper as I walk away from the table that I must have gotten a gift card to Chico's. Or something.
And I will tell you, it's been difficult. Turning 30 and gracefully caring can be a dangerous road.
There seems to be a fine line between giving up and trying to hard. I am not interested in either. But turning 30, let alone 35, can really put a spin on the 'ole closet.
I threw out the miniskirts and tube tops years ago. But what about some of the other fashions? What about cute layered muscle tees? What about plaid shorts and bubble skirts? What about HORIZONTAL stripes that have overtaken every super store out there?
The frustating thing is, I am not interested at this juncture to really make a statement about who I am through my clothing. It's more about having fun shopping... and playing in my closet and buying shoes for five bucks that I can make look great because I like to be creative.
And then I go and get older and find myself in this fix.
The easiest solution would be to buy age appropriate clothing, but I gotta tell you, Micheal Kors is not on my affordabe list. And the "women's" section at Target is all loose black cotton and tiny prints of flowers and yachts and cats... and I am just not there yet.
So, I am still, like I have been for the past 15 years, stuck in the Jr's clearance section... just waiting for the perfect black turtlenecks and grey pin-striped trouser slacks. Old school style with young and "flirty" cuts.
I am guessing turning 40 will be even harder. And something tells me that shopping at Forever 21 will be way out of the question by then.