Celia Rivenbark: 'Coastal Grandmother' trend will sneak up on you (in Rothy flats)
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A close friend with a penchant for bold flowery dresses sniffed at my oatmeal linen pants, white linen big shirt and pale blue tank.
“Coastal Grandma called and wants her clothes back,” she snarked. “Where’s your vintage flower basket brimming with fresh-cut limelight hydrangeas?”
Hmmph. I wish I knew. My limelights didn’t come back after a nasty frost this past spring and…
Wait. Coastal Grandmother? I had heard of the informal, classic clothing and lifestyle trend and now it had found its way into my closet like an invasive nandina in a hedgerow of azaleas. (Coastal Granny loves gardening metaphors.) One day I was wearing a tropical fish patterned skort and a clingy orange top from H&M and the next…neutral colors and wide-brimmed hats had taken over.
It was as if Diane Keaton and Martha Stewart had crept into my closet while I was sleeping and turned me into a …you know. I was starting to dress, and possibly act like, all the “women of a certain age” in those awful movies featuring five famous actresses you used to love going on vacation, drinking too much wine and flirting with 30-year-olds. The women are usually Coastal Grandmas except for the requisite “wild one” whom the others claim to adore while sniping behind her back about what a skank she was in high school.
So far, this trend of the Coastal Grandmother (the term was coined on TikTok last year, like every great/terrible idea) has staying power and that’s good news for me because…linen. So, so much linen. The tobacco crop pants, the pale gray blazer with push-up sleeves (the better to show off your wooden bangle bracelets none of which were made in China)…
While I’m not technically a grandmother (if a certain 26-year-old is reading this, GET BUSY), I do live nine miles from the ocean, so the coastal part is legit. While it took my colorful friend’s intervention to point out my transition was under way, I only truly believed this had happened to me after reading the “How to Know You May Be A Coastal Grandma” in my trusty “Southern If You Ain’t Living You’re Dying” magazine. Hmmm. And, by the way, when did I start storing back issues in these cute grass cloth binders organized by year?
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The revelation wasn’t as frightening as shallow breathing your way through the “Ten Signs You May Have Colo-Rectal Cancer” poster in the doctor’s office but it was definitely anxiety producing.
When did this happen? One day, I’m eating Momofuku Soy and Scallion noodles to ensure hip-ness and the next…I guess becoming a Coastal Grandmother happened, as many things do, without my realizing it. I couldn’t have been more shocked if I had awakened one morning to discover I had become a Republican.
Was that an estate-sale Waterford vase holding freshly cut white gladioli? Check. Did my CG neighbor just drop off a couple of heirloom tie-dye tomatoes eliciting a loud and grateful squeal? Dear Lord, even my stick-straight fine hair had been secured with a relentlessly tasteful tortoise-shell clip I have no memory of purchasing. When would the madness end?
The magazine seemed to know I had not one, but two pairs of cotton lounging PJ’s and I had recently bought my very first Eileen Fisher T-shirt in the palest pink imaginable. Further, it noted the true Coastal Grandmother’s kitchen is often fragrant with a crispy-skinned Ina Garten roast chicken in the oven. GUILTY!!!! ON ALL COUNTS!!!!
In fact, every single box was ticked except one. The aesthetic demands early morning walks in the garden talking to the birds (like a crazy person) so the classic Coastal Grandmother always goes to bed with a Barbara Kingsolver novel and drifts off by 9.
Not there yet but it’s just a matter of time. Gimme a week or two.
Celia Rivenbark is a NYT-bestselling author and columnist. Write her at celiarivenbark@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on Wilmington StarNews: Celia Rivenbark: Coastal Grandmother trend will sneak up on you
