The photo, left, is unexciting. But I really liked this outfit on me--the V shaped neck and rumply draped front worked well for my face and hair, and the vaguely suit-like impression and the pearls made me feel like a well-dressed little old lady about to go to a board meeting. The average woman probably wouldn't think of "little old lady" as a success, but for a person who loves old-lady perfumes, perhaps the appeal is unsurprising. I felt like a grownup. That's both fascinating and a little frightening for someone who's been dressing like a college student for over twenty years.
But I did notice an ongoing lack of color. So on Thursday I wore a red velvet shirt that I've had forever, possibly since my early twenties. Wearing this shirt is part of a long-term plan to put idle clothes to work or get rid of them. To reduce the eighties silhouette, I cut out the shoulder pads, and I plan to (gasp) throw it in the Delicate cycle rather than obey the Dry Clean Only tag. If it goes to pieces, then its fate is sealed permanently; if it doesn't, then I'll probably start wearing it more than once a decade. Either outcome is a win, though I'm hoping for the second, because I really do love the red. I love almost any red, but this dark blood-red with no touch of blue or orange is my favorite.
Following the same philosophy of Wear It Or Lose It, I added a pair of screw-on earrings that belonged to my mother or my grandmother or possibly both--I tend to forget these things. Matchyness again. Is matchyness in jewelry wrong? And wore it with, again, another knee-length black skirt, black tights, black flats, blah de blah de blah. Wearing earrings was another cool novelty. Much to my surprise, screw-ons seem to be less painful than clip-ons.
Friday was less matchy. I wore a boxy denim shirt trimmed at the sleeves and hem with purple velvet ribbon and little bits of beadwork, and a silk scarf with a floofy flower print in which red-pink dominated, and (whee!) a knee-length black skirt, black flats, and slate-blue tights. And the same red starburst earrings as the day before.
Am I going to keep a perpetual diary here? Actually, I probably am, though not necessarily recording every single day on the blog. I suspect that in six months I'll be very curious to see what I was wearing six months before. But just to finish up to date, today it was a brown linen shirt with an interesting shape--I'll photograph it someday, probably the next time I wear it--with black SkirtTightsFlatsBlah, the flowery scarf, and those green Dorothy earrings. Color! That's the top photo, of course.
So. Color. At least, color above the waist--I keep on wearing those black skirts. (I have three knee-length and one calf-length, and that's ignoring any lurking among the neglected clothes.) I feel as if I must have pages and pages to write about color, but...nothing is coming out. Not a thing. I guess I can't go all rambling philosophical every time.
So I will, for now, declare that that is all.
Funny about venturing to wash something in the delicate cycle and letting it take its chances - I did that just today with a ruffly viscose scarf that I wear loads but which only cost about £3.99 in T K Maxx (do you see a pattern starting to form here? ;-) ). And it survived, yay! It's the same tyrannical principle as having to refrigerate jams and condiments after opening - don't get me started on that one...!ReplyDelete
By the way, what is floofy? Is it the same as foofy, which I have heard a friend living in the US use? And if not, what is foofy?
Ah, I'm pleased to hear that your scarf survived the experience.ReplyDelete
My understanding is that the decree that a garment be dry-cleaned doesn't mean that there's any particular likelihood that it won't survive the wash, but instead that the manufacturer didn't make any point of preparing it for, (for example, preshrinking the fabric) or testing it using, that method. If the garment happens to be made of fabric that's not inclined to bleed or shrink, it may be just fine.
I've occasionally wondered if doing that prep and testing might actually be a selling point. I'd pay several more dollars for the silk blouse that can officially be washed, than for the one that doesn't offer any such assurance.
Floofy, to me, is a combination of fluffy and...uh...poofy, which isn't really a very formal word either. It refers to things that are light and airy and expansive and rather silly, either physically or metaphorically. I'd apply it to meringue, and to most peonies, and to certain girly high-pitched perfumes, and most little girls' Easter dresses, and so on.