I just read a fashion memoir written by a 19-year old. "Peaches Geldof looks back at her unforgettable wardrobe woes, and explains how she finally got it together." Finally got it together? For fucks sake, she's not even finished with puberty yet.

I realize that in the world of young fashion she is some sort of ... not icon, but maybe role model. If she had recounted the last couple of years with some modesty or irreverence, and acknowledgment that at 19 one has not yet actually discovered ones' self, I could respect the self-indulgent self-reflection. But she begins her fashion journey a bit too young to take seriously ("By 2002, I was a carefree 12-year old." Is there any reason on earth anyone would care if a 12-year old wore pink checkered shorts? No. Well, maybe other 12-year-olds.), and she offers no actual reflection on her identity or personal development, just a timeline of trends she passed through. I'm sure if I were 15 (and rich enough to actually shop for my own clothes), I'd really love the piece. Unfortunately, I am 25, and it makes me want to trade my free subscription to Nylon for Better Homes and Gardens.

Am I projecting?

Or does Conor Oberst seem too old to be dressed up all grimey vintage looking coy in front of kitch wallpaper?

We are not in high school anymore, Bright Eyes. The angst is now nostaligia, not a lifestyle.

Not that I wouldn't go see him ... if it wasn't a weeknight.

In her NY Times' blog, Judith Warner writes on sexually-charged manifestations of patriarchy in the US and abroad.

The premise: the connection between hymen-restoration trend in France, driven by the cultural need for unmarried women to remain (or re-become) virgins, and similar efforts in the US -- particularly, fathers who lead their teenage daughters to chastity balls and assert that it is their duty to protect their purity.

Warner also brings up rape and incest as more extreme examples of patriarchy -- and while they do not equate, she says,"there is nonetheless a kind of horror to their [fathers'] obsession with their daughters’ sexuality. ... And there is even greater danger to the fact that this particular aspect of the nationwide “abstinence movement” has not been broadly denounced as the form of emotional violence against girls that it indisputably is."

Indeed.

And an interesting counterpoint to arguments against the over-sexualization of young women. I personally find this paternal obsession with virginity about as creepy and inappropriate as Billy Ray's audience to Miley's sexually-charged Liebowitz photos.

While it's definitely uncomfortable for bratty, ridiculous teenagers and awkward parents to have 'the talk,' it is entirely possible for normal families to address sexuality in a normal, healthy, non-creepy way. No need to venture into territory that causes bloggers to revolt nationwide!

No one tried very hard to protect my virginity, and I don't recall ever being afraid of losing it too early or keeping it too long. I'm sure there was some kind of mental turmoil over it, and my parents were not thrilled when it went the way of YM magazine and shopping in the juniors section. But I'm fairly certain fears were over pregnancy, primarily, and not purity.

I am getting old.

I'm noticing that students who I'd assumed were about my age are actually 4 or 5 years younger than me -- and some are born in another decade entirely. Not so distant a gap, but definitely enough that were I in their position, I'd view me as an older person. Like I was some kind of thoroughly established adult. A staff member walking around campus among students, in a protective staff bubble of permanence, stability, seriousness. I'm practically wearing orthopedic shoes.

I also discovered the second unfortunate consequence of leaving my over-priced hair stylist: My roots include at least 3 grey hairs. Certainly, I've been a bit of a prudish old lady since I first joyfully ironed along with Martha. And teensy wrinkles I've had since I was a kid, and expected while I baked in tanning salons throughout high school (oh, and college). But, as far as I know, grey hairs hold no exterior cause to blame for accelerating their appearance; my body is simply decaying. And once my very hair follicles lose interest in the plump, colorful vibrancy of youth, what hope do I have? If this is not the end, it is certainly no longer the beginning.

PS. I am not wearing orthopedic shoes. In fact, I think I look pretty hot today.