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.

Goodbye April budget.

Hello Kate Spade.

Things I Want To Buy

Or, Thing I Want to Buy Based On The Misguided, Consumerist Idea That Weather Changes Require An Entirely New Wardrobe.

Nail Polish: Yesterday, a very tall stranger and I had a long chat about the unavailability of Sephora by OPI nail polish in Metro Chic. It's a dark purpley grey color, and apparently it's all the rage. Like that one time Chanel made a black polish and it was sold out instantly (only this time $9 instead of $20-something). It's the only color of 50-something sold out online. Then the tall stranger looked down at the polish I was holding, the closest matching color, and said, "Oh, and I see you've got the last bottle of that one." I mumbled and looked around awkwardly, then walked to the register quickly.

Tights: Specifically, these ingenious two-toned tights from Chanel. Maybe they are a little theatrical, a little court-jester, but they also seem like a fantastic alternative to the current options of plain black or figure-distorting lace/net tights.

Unfortunately, the real Chanels are $230 dollars. Fortunately, they seem popular and interesting enough that I hope Urban Outfitters or H&M will have a knock-off available by the time the weather actually requires tights.

Speaking of H&M: It opens within walking distance on September 12. I'm two weeks away from the fulfillment of a dream that has waited many years. Equal parts joy and fear that constant proximity will dull the sharp fabulousness of what's been till now only an European and New York experience. But I'm happy to think I'll have more time for museums and friends, being less compelled to madly race around Manhattan gathering cheap stylish garments, when I visit in December.

Giant handbags: I saw two really fabulous, really large, leather bags at Gap in U Village. When I asked the man at the counter when they might go on sale, he said not for a while, if at all. Maybe I will find a friend who can give me a discount. Or maybe someone will think my birthday is actually in early September and buy me an inexplicably generous present. If people will actually pay $230 for tights, anything can happen.

Delusions of pregnancy and grandeur

I lazily caught a crowded bus to U Village yesterday (um, very important business). A man began to stand, to offer me his seat, and I told him, "No, that's OK, I'm getting off at the next stop."

He sat and I considered whether I felt demeaned to be offered a seat. I'm younger that he is, I thought. I'm female, I'm not incapable of standing. It's not like I'm wearing heels, or pregnant.

And then, even worse, I thought, What if he did think I was pregnant?

. . .

Fall fashions at Anthropologie consoled me. I was very good and put back even the cheapest sale items (because who really needs another skirt?) until I saw a small purple jacket. Ooh, clothing! Why do you tempt me? You know autumn especially is my weakness.

I spoke with a sales girl all about the new catalogue. Even better: new Nordstrom catalogue. A gorgeous cover by R. Toledo, and pages flooded with dark, cozy, proper clothing. Long coats and big leather bags, and so much deep purple. I showed Brian a $1,395 Fendi watch with my birthdate on the face. He didn't think it was quite the sign of destiny I did. He also said it looked just like my current watch, which I intended as a sign that I quite like the style. Apparently, to some an established personal taste is redundancy.

. . .

I think the economic downturn, combined by autumn's usual influence toward more conservative, vaguely-academic/equestrian apparel, has driven fashion in a pretty classic direction. No shocking new trends. Magazines discuss purchases that will last a lifetime -- wardrobe investments. Flattering shapes, predictable autumn colors, versatile feminine styles.

I don't mind it at all. As much fun as it is to be intrigued by Balenciaga tulip-shaped skirts, or entertained by a glowing lime green MJ bag, my personal purchases have moved consistently toward things I expect to wear indefinitely. It doesn't always work out (I swear, I always think I will wear that magenta Brooks Brothers coat more often, but then it never seems quite right). But at least I can pay more realistic attention to a catalogue full of wearable pieces than some bizarre show of which designer can make us look silliest by "experimenting with form." I don't want my form experimented with, I want it flattered. It has enough trouble on it's own, apparently (see pregnancy entry above).

I love Vogue because you can tell from the first few ad-pasted pages in June that deep purple and royal blue will be great colors for the coming autumn. I'm enthused.

Bill Cunningham discusses vests on NYTimes.com. Not just any vests, or all vests, but traditional three-piece-suit style vests (and a waistcoat or two) layered by young people over jeans and tees, blouses, and untucked dress shirts. I'm a big fan of the look -- it takes otherwise-bland outfits to a very current, urban, sharp place. The structure adds almost gravitas to Gap basics, but the trendiness keeps a dress shirt and slacks from looking like Ross on Friends. I love almost every single one of these looks ... everything except the "interesting" look on the woman at :55 -- who's looking at the vest when her underwear is rising 6 inches out of such hideous jeans?

Both Net-A-Porter and Anthropologie have advertised a butterfly trend this spring.

Really? Butterflies? Good in nature, not across my body. But maybe I'm too close to elementary school to appreciate this very precious motif.