Tuesday, March 26, 2013

The Blue Dress for No Dang Reason

I confessed that I very recently bought a blue dress.
I don't know, it was just one of those times. (You know the ones.) I hadn't bought something pretty in a very long time, and...well, the tax refund came.

So I did what any normal version of myself would do and I did a little pretend shopping at Ruche.
It felt like the right move.

Of course, as often happens (and the reason I don't often pretend shop these days) that line between "pretend" and "this will cost me real, paper money" blurs and bada-boom, I've got myself a new blue dress. For no dang reason.

It was...nice.

So the dress came, along with a (cough) skirt. The skirt? I couldn't pull it halfway up my hips. It was demoralizing. It was also a relief, because I knew I had to send it back and I liked it, but not enough to order it in a size up. (This is what happens with impulse buys. You end up with things that you only "like". Not even worth it.)

Cut to late Saturday night. I'm up way past your bedtime watching that part of SNL where you know the writers have all sort of given up. Back-half SNL.

I was already regretting the morning and drumming up ways to eke out a few more minutes of the sleep I already knew I desperately needed. Deciding ahead of time what to wear saves minutes, right?

Of course it was way to cold for the BDfNDR....or was it????

(dramatic pause)

I remembered reading something six or eight years ago about wearing a Summer dress in the winter. With tights, people. As fortune has it, I have tights! And boots! And a sweater!

It was worth a shot.

(Or maybe that was just Bill Hader and Cecily Strong talking.)
(Love you forever Cecily Strong!)

I felt so twenty-something!
And slightly overdressed!
And super awkward posing for a picture in the front yard!

Lazy alert!
Totally didn't iron that bad girl up.

And yes, I have twig legs. Don't talk about it.
I don't want to talk about it.
For real.

At the end of the day, who can say if I actually pulled it off?
But it was fun to shake it up for a while.

And if you're going to take a fashion risk, you might as well bust it out at your beloved new church, where the average member is 72.4 years old and they find it appropriate and maybe even complimentary to tell you you look exactly like their sister. Like, now. Not 40 years ago.

Incidentally, this is the terrifyingly restrictive Barbie skirt from Hades. Those daisies called out to me.
I desperately wanted to wear them with a navy and white striped shirt. Right??

And as a final warning, this right here is why we never, ever browse online unless we actually have real, paper money to spend. (Come to me!!!)

Dear Ruche,
You are Anthro's cooler, younger sister.
(Yes, I said you are younger.)
I love you for your prices and your swooniness.
But your daisy skirt is whack and almost made me cry.

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