I'm kind of a bad person for snapping the picture you see below. The quality on my crappy little camera phone couldn't really do justice to this daring fashion choice, but you get the gist.
Sheer white pants and black drawers on a bright, sunny Saturday is a ballsy move, my friend; a ballsy move indeed. The Odd Broad salutes you for your bravery.
Tonight we went to the village to hear our friend Dave's band play. I am both relieved and exhilarated to mention that I was asked to show identificaton at the door. (This information is only significant seeing that I experienced a brief moment of despair when it looked as if I wouldn't be carded.) I gleefully offered up my inner wrist to receive the kind bouncer's "ok" stamp.
One of the bands that played before David's was decidedly "metal." I find it amusing that I'd spent most of my day tugging at my outfit, wondering if it was possibly too risque for work? At times I felt almost naked in my short dress and leggings! That is, until I saw the opening band, which consisted of several young men who were clad in the tightest of spandex. And they, unlike myself, had nothing to cover their bums, let alone their frontal regions! A daring look, indeed, but the overall effect was rather unpleasant. Especially since the lead singer kept putting his leg up onto the amp, unabashedly gyrating his spandex covered nether regions to all and sundry.
This display moved me to make Hubby vow never to wear tightie pants, under any and all circumstances. I just don't think it's a good look. He told me I needn't worry. Phew!
Our friend David played wonderfully, as usual, and his band was excellent!
And on this note, I am off to bed...while visions of spandex dance in my head...
It's puffy coat season again in the good old Northeast. Sadly, my bargain (Daffy's) Nicole Miller puff coat is just as temperamental this winter as it was last. Do you perchance own a down-filled coat, Dear Reader? If so, then surely you'll appreciate the woe I speak of.
I've recently come to the realization that the effectiveness of my puffy coat is directly related to the universe. As in, she only zips when she feels like it. Or perhaps only when she feels I truly deserve it. Indeed, this coat is a mystical force to be reckoned with.
Not to say she doesn't have her obliging, agreeable days. On the contrary, she's been zipping up without complaint quite regularly as of late. Of course, I've had to gingerly step in and out of the coat, cautious not to ever unzip her completely. Incidentally, have you ever seen a grown woman step into or out of her coat in public? In a restaurant, at work, in a store? Don't laugh, it could very well happen to you. (Also, it could possibly be me.)
The truth is, I don't dare unzip that mess once I've gotten it to zip. Most days I'm just grateful Old Puffy has decided to behave. I'm not always so fortunate, of course. It seems at times my impudent behavior incites the wrath of The Puffy Coat.
Take the other morning, for example. I'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed and was running late. Annoyed, I stepped into The Puff and hastily pulled up the zipper, which promptly became stuck. Apparently Puffy doesn't appreciate being roughhoused. So this was how it was going to be, eh?
The worst part was, not only would Puffy not zip up, she refused to unzip as well. Fantastic!
Since I was already running late, I did what any reasonable, sensible woman would do: I walked in the freezing cold with my coat zipped up to my knees. I believe New York 1 reported the temperature was 14 degrees that morning, before the wind chill, of course.
People looked at me funny. And who could blame them? I mean, on a good day New Yorkers make staring blankly an art form, but in their defense, I did look weird.
By the time I got to the subway I'd had it. I plopped down my bag, wriggled out of my coat (still having to step out of the damn thing, naturally) and tried to ignore the fact that people were watching me intently. The crackhead in the sage green puff.
I worked that zipper. I worked that zipper till my eyes watered. At last, mercifully, the zipper yielded and vengeance was mine. Ha!
Later, just before lunch, I approached the coat with an attitude both humble and hopeful. Would Puffy zipper? Would she perhaps take pity on me, on that frigid afternoon? I held my breath. She zipped. By God, she zipped.
Thank you, oh wise, enchanted puffy coat, for teaching me the ways of the universe. Namely, to be gentle and grateful with everything surrounding me, even if the object in question is inanimate. (Is she, though?)
Until my new J Crew button-up coat arrives in the mail, I will do my best to be more accommodating. (Thank God I paid the extra seven bucks for three day shipping.)
xoxo
Earlier this year I voiced what I felt were very sound concerns regarding skinny jeans, in a post entitled: "Do I really want to look like an upside-down Christmas tree?"
Label me closed minded, but I'm not convinced there's a place in today's society for trousers of the tapered, skin-tight variety. Honestly, did we not learn our collective lesson during the 80's and 90's?
Picture my surprise yesterday, as I strolled down Lexington Avenue and spotted a fashionista sporting not only a tapered leg, but an extreme high waist as well! Dun-dun-dah!!!
I've observed these slacks in magazines before, but have never actually seen them out in public on a civilian. I could barely contain my awe, Dear Reader, but alas, in an instant, the trendy woman and her elevated waistline had turned onto 59th and were sauntering well out of my eyeshot.
As you may notice, I've taken a crack at depicting this worrisome image, but really how could any illustration ever give true justice to such an ensemble?
In closing, if this sort of get-up is fashion forward, then Jeeves, kindly put the car in reverse. (Jeeves is my imaginary butler/driver. He goes everywhere with me, we're inseparable. I'll introduce you sometime.)
XOXO
