Casey Recommends: Dressing Like Your Teenage Self

Back in April, I dolled myself up for a performance of CATS: The Jellicle Ball on Broadway — because, darling, when you go to the Ball, you must dress for the occasion.

So I chose a flouncy bubble skirt paired with a sequin crop top for a disco ball vibe. I also went one further, pulling a pair of fishnet tights out of the recesses of my closet and throwing on a pair of Doc Martens.

It gave ‘90s, it gave punk, it gave a little bit of over-the-top-ness with the sequins and my extremely long and fabulous red and black faux lashes.

And it gave a silhouette that would read “Casey” to anyone who’s known me for the past 35 years.

The hemlines may be slightly longer these days, the four-inch heels unfortunately a thing of the past, and the jeans more often than not replaced by leggings, but the elements of my look have remained fairly constant since I could buy my own clothes.

Colorful skirts, statement t-shirts, flannel, shoes with a little bit (OK, maybe a lot bit) of a platform or some heft — I’m still dressing like my teenage self. And I’ll probably be wearing the same style 40 years from now when my knees are even worse for the wear.

I used to think about my grandma’s regular wardrobe a lot: polyester slacks and sleeveless blouses, leather wedge sandals, the standard getup for a woman in her 60s in the mid-1980s who got her hair done every Friday at the beauty parlor. It always read as “old lady” to me, even though she wasn’t really that old, now that I consider it from my so-called middle-aged perspective.

And I used to wonder what would happen to the clothing companies who made these pieces once that generation of women passed on, and when did women of that era decide to change their style of dressing to this uniform?

Like when Betty Draper married Henry Francis and her look morphed from young Grace Kelly suburban housewife to staid, helmet-hair-and-pearls political wife drag.

There are definitely pieces in my closet that speak to a different era of Casey, someone who was more glamorous and lived a fabulous (and unaffordable, ultimately) New York City lifestyle. I’ll keep some of the Prada skirts and Marc Jacobs bags forever as a reminder of that person, and also because they’re works of art.

On the other side, I admit that I’m a convert to Hokas because, again, my knees have been tortured in heels since I was 16 years old and I just can’t do it anymore. And that my wardrobe may skew a bit more gorpcore than it used to in the grunge days.

But when it comes down to it, I’m going to feel most comfortable and like myself in the same style of clothing I’ve been wearing all my life. This is my uniform, for better or for worse for my whole life.

And when I need a pick-me-up, I’ll just pull on a big-ass bubble skirt and chunky clogs with a little preppy ribbed sweater. Just like my teenage self would, but maybe even better.