I must be getting older...

I am only 28. I say only because, really, I don't think it's that old. Sure I'm out of the 18 to 25 demographic, but I didn't really fit in that demographic when I was in that demographic.

But this weekend? I feel old.

My stepdaughter is visiting. She's 17. She brings with her scads of fashion magazines. Vogue, Elle, Allure, Marie Clarie. Magazines that, yes, I admit I purchased in my early twenties. Mostly for the pictures of naked and scantily clad women. I freely admit this. Oh, and the makeup advice. I love makeup. And body paint. But I digress...

I can't remember which one it was, but really it may have well been all of them --the models in these books are CHILDREN. I swear. They are 14 year old girls slathered in couture and fine jewels, thrust onto the runways of major cities and then immortalized in print.

I suppose every blog has to have an entry about anorexic, soul-less, fashionista culture, but damn. I look at these pictures and I feel old. I love sewing. I love fashion. I love couture, actually. I believe clothing can be art and ideas and culture. But these girls are CHILDREN or at least they look like children.

Vogue has Kirsten Dunst on the cover this month. Definitely a 22 year old beauty, who looks like a young woman. But, notice the girl (and yes I say girl) on the left? The one in the lovely blue trench coat. Her bio says she was born in 1983. But does she look 21 to you?

Even if she is, I really think our youth obsessed culture is pathological. And this weekend, it really made me feel old and quite frankly, appalled.