Saturday, November 23, 2013
Neither were my tights. (They were maroony red.)
Neither were my shoes.
Hey, waitaminnit. I don't think I wore anything black on Thursday. (Well, except for my coat.) Even the dark part of the houndstooth was brown, not black. And my shirt was also maroony red. See?
Am I allowed to wear not-black? Is there a law?
Three weeks ago, I suspect that I would have seen Thursday's outfit as risky or daring or something. Actually, I suspect that I saw it that way when I put it on. Houndstooth, after all. A pattern! In something other than a scarf! But I was over it by the time I took it off.
The boots, the lower-risk steampunky pair rather than the fancier heeled pair, also seemed risky; little short boots with a skirt. I don't see those as weird, but I do see them as young, and the possibility of dressing "too young" does make me nervous.
I was tempted to also wear a brown-leopard-print scarf that I bought recently, but that felt like pushing it. Well, and the scarf was deeply unflattering to my face. That's the sort of thing that I want to understand. Was the problem the brown? The large-scale print? The shiny texture? The pale background? The square-folded-to-triangular scarf shape? I can't figure out why, but my instant reaction upon turning to the mirror after draping it on was "Eeew." And, "Maybe I should try that makeup thing." That's a new and alarming thought. It's not necessarily a wrong thought, but an accessory that immediately triggers that thought is not a successful accessory.
I wore the same boots a few days ago with black skirt and a collection of plum shades--bright plum-colored tights, even brighter knit shirt with a neckline that was almost but not quite entirely covered with a darker plum sweater, and a kinda-filmy bluish-plum silk scarf. I enjoyed that, though it continued to feel possibly too young.
Color. I'm wearing color. Matchy color; red-tights-red-blouse, plum-tights-plum-sweater-plum-shirt-plum-scarf. But color. Also cool boots.
Oh, and you'll notice that the photos this time include me. They can't really be said to be photographs of me, but bits of me are in the shot. Also progress?
Sunday, November 10, 2013
I was just re-reading The Thoughtful Dresser by Linda Grant, and was struck by the bit where the author states that
One day last summer, at the moment of waking, I knew that I had to go out at once and buy new shoes. Shoes which fulfilled a function apart from walking...Ridiculous, sexy, "I don't care how much they cost, I have to have them" shoes.Her conclusion was that the waking message from her subconscious to buy those shoes was a message to "be seen." I'm still not quite sure what my subconscious is demanding, in pushing this style thing. It might, indeed, be a goal to be seen, after a lifetime of trying to disappear. Or it could be some slushy Hallmarky "love yourself" thing that I refuse to see due to its inherent slushiness.
Today I bought a pair of boots. Actually, I'm going to confess: Today I bought two pairs of boots. (NAYY linkyness: From Village Shoes.) First I bought a moderately practical flat-heeled pair--practical but also dripping with steampunk-chimney-sweep atmosphere. And I took a picture of another pair to see if it would haunt me. I do that now and then--I still have a pair of rhinestone earrings in my phone's camera roll that are still haunting me but not quite enough to inspire me to buy them.
The haunting took effect at record speed. Himself didn't hate the photo of the other pair. With that knowledge, I found myself hurriedly changing clothes to a skirt shape that had more of the Edwardian/Victorian vibe that I get from the boots, called the store to find out how much longer they were open today, and charged down there in the car. I walked out half an hour before they closed. With, of course, the boots.
That's them up there. I have fifteen days to change my mind and return them, but I don't think I'm going to. We've already bonded.
Title Quote: Modern Family