I'm going to do something different this month, and take some of my own advice. Stepping away from the lecture pulpit, I'm instead going to sit down to gaze into a crystal ball (not my head) and make an educated guess about an upcoming eyewear trend. After all, I've lately been advocating observing extant trends in the worlds of popular culture and high fashion in order to predict what people will want to purchase at a dispensary in the near future; isn't it time I take my own advice?

So, here I sit, ready to make my prediction. Many of you will find it controversial. Most will be repulsed. I expect no fewer than eight death threats. Yet, this is a presumption made after several months of observation and contemplation, bolstered by a (somewhat) well-developed theory on the nature of American fashion. Seatbelts fastened? Helmets secured? Ready? OK. Here goes.

I predict that, within the next five years, we will see the resurgence of plastic aviator frames.

SAY WHAT?
For the purposes of this article, let's set aside the aesthetic considerations of the plastic aviator frame (something I'll soon be touching on in another column) and simply look at why I believe it will be making a comeback. At the heart of this theory lies another theory, one that I came up with in college but will acknowledge that someone probably developed before that. I call it the Thirty Year Theory. It goes like this: Over the course of the past 120 years or so of American history, major fashion trends fade out and revive on a thirty year basis. The idea came to me while perusing vintage clothing catalog scans at The Fedora Lounge, an internet forum dedicated to men's and women's fashion from the turn of the century to the 1960s. There, I began to notice that the clothing of the 1950s looked an awful lot like the clothing of the 1920s (think big jackets, bold ties). From my own memory and observations, I began to realize that a lot of the clothing of the 1980s resembled the clothing of the 1950s (think colored sports coats, polka dots). Delving deeper into the clothing of the 20th century, I began to notice a similar pattern with other decades: The 70s emulated the giant lapels and "Hollywood" look of the 1940s; the 1960s aped the look of the 1930s. Moving forward, the 1990s enjoyed a tremendous 1960s revival (remember when bell bottoms and tie-dye came back?). Though it's shaky, I believe that, consciously or subconsciously, America has essentially recycled its own old clothes on a roughly thirty year cycle.

MAD, INTERRUPTED
This brings us to the early 2000s, when, if you'll remember, we were in the midst of a 1970s revival (I'm sure more than one of us *ahem ahem* have photos of themselves in denim vests and floral pattern shirts to prove it). Smack dab in the middle of this came Mad Men… And if you've been reading my column, or watching the malls, the rest is history. In an unprecedented sartorial phenomenon, the popularity of Mad Men managed to interrupt the thirty-year cycle, driving a wooden stake through the heart of the 70s vampire and sending us back to the 90s...er, 60s. With the show ending next year, though, the question arises: What happens once that influence dissipates?

COURSE CORRECTION
Here's where my presumption kicks in. We should just be leaving a 70s revival and entering an 80s revival. However, with the world thrown into a tizzy by Mad Men, we're instead seeing elements of the 70s, 80s and 90s returning together: On one hand, the market is trying to resume its natural course; we should still have another 3-4 years of the 70s left, something evident in the rush of 70s pop culture emerging in Mad Men's absence: There are no fewer than five 1970s period pieces being released by major studios this Fall and Winter, from American Hustle to Rush. Consider, too, that this year's Academy Award winner for Best Picture was Argo, a movie that was so 70s you grew chest hair just watching it. On the other hand, the Great Recession has created an unprecedented nostalgia boom, as late-20 and early 30-somethings have experienced a collective wistfulness for the carefree days of their adolescence and childhoods in the 1990s. This coalescence of events and phenomenon has created an unnatural state in the world of fashion. It is my prediction that, in order to compensate, the market will naturally correct itself by amalgamating the 70s, 80s, and early 90s together into one unifying aesthetic, then riding this wave through the remainder of the 2010s until the 90s can rise to dominance in the 2020s, resuming the thirty-year cycle.

Which brings us back around to plastic aviators.

That the next thing in frames will incorporate some form of plastic is obvious: We're still in the middle of a tremendous love affair with plastic frames, and while browlines are eking their way into the market, that portion of metal can't do away with the zyl that's got America captivated. We haven't yet reached the level of oversaturation that will eventually drive people back to dominantly metal frames; we need at least another decade or so for that to happen, if not more. So whatever comes next will be plastic; and as zyls were such a large part of 1980s frame culture, it's a natural progression.

Aviators, of course—the ones with clear lenses, not the General MacArthur, "I shall return" variety—were all the rage in the late 70s, when people needed big glasses to go with their big hair and big jackets. The style maintained into the 80s, where it was joined by round, "preppy" zyls and big, round, P-3 inspired frames. The style endured into the early 90s (our last bespectacled president, George H.W. Bush, was an aviator wearer) before becoming the domain of elderly men and socially inept youngsters (again, a topic for another article). It's my prediction, then, that the aviator shape will become the template for the next trend in eyewear, taking its cue from the three decades currently at war with one another for fashion dominance. Combine this with the zyls of the 80s/current love affair with zyls, and we have...plastic aviators.

Far be it for me to base all of this on theory and speculation, the first drops of the coming flood can already be seen in the pages of GQ and Esquire, where photographers have begun slapping plastic aviators onto the faces of their models, and at the kiosks and hipster hangouts of your local mall, where plano plastic aviator frames have begun appearing for purchase. Consider that this is partially how the current eyewear trend began (Mad Men notwithstanding), and you have the makings of the next thing in optical fashion.

So, there you have it. My completely insane, speculative theory on the next thing in eyewear. Contemplate it. Consider it. Prepare for it.

Meanwhile, I'll just sit back and wait for the threats.