I’d like to think that I don’t write about Twilight fashion because I’m above it all. That I’m not, in fact, a 30-something twihard that wishes my own marriage resembled the fairytale romance between a grumpy teenager and her hundred-year-old vampire boyfriend.
I like to think that I don’t write about Twilight fashion because I’m above it all. Because despite the fact that I do watch reality TV and relish teen dramedies on ABC family, when it comes to reading, I cherish long words and multi-faceted plots that don’t always end with the guy getting the girl and with character names more thought out than mashups between parent names (really? Renesmee?)
I’d like to thing that don’t write about Twilight fashion because I’m above it all. Because I can rationally say to myself that this is just a movie, and I don’t need to camp out at the mall on Novermber 17th because I absolutely cannot wait to see that long-awaited love scene the day it opens, surrounded by 16 year old girls playing hookie and those 30-somethings I’ve referenced above.
But the truth is, I don’t write about Twitlight fashion because I am scared of the comments that will be left here, should I actually insult Kristen Stewart’s fashion choices, or worse yet, Robert Pattinson’s.
If Jennifer Garner’s minivan mob squad can scare the bejesus out of me, just imagine that wrath I might endure by insulting Robsten’s fashion; nevermind their legacy.