The silence, the long, dreadful silence. This is the main reason.
- Of course it is not going all that well right now. Bookmark this blog if you are a Tigers fan. This gal is brilliant.
I was just keeping up with everything when it was work, yoga and various household duties (laundry, cooking, vacuuming every other month) and then comes playoff baseball and the house of cards tumbles. If I get just this one post up today, I say it is a new beginning. There is so much fashion to talk about and holiday parties are just around the corner. That topic needs some attention. My hair appointment is already on the books.
My oldest friend Carolyn, after reading the first post, wrote this to me: Also, I’m wondering about an umbrella/core statement from you about your passion for this: how is it that this came to matter to you? I know you said you’re interested in colors, shapes, textures, but as a reader, I’d love to know more about how/why those things vividly engage you in the world and/or with others.
No, not so much. As indicated in an earlier post, my closet isn’t anything to crow about it. It’s primary function right now is storing five or six things I like a lot and twenty things I could set fire to and never miss. It’s the closet of a messy eight-year old.
- A white heavy linen jacket that doesn’t fit quite right, the armholes are too low. I’ve since learned that “fit” is more than “it buttons.”
- A yellow linen jacket, bought while thrifting that is the most glorious marigold color, that very few Caucasian women can pull off.
- Two form fitting and flowery dresses from JC Penny’s a couple of summers ago. A little too form fitting, even back then. Also, too much boob on display. A co-worker owns one of the dresses, which keeps it forever off my list. Last thing, even though my figure looks hourglassy and va-voom, they are so constricting that I want to drive fast and mow down mailboxes, screaming. Writing about them even makes me jittery.