Four Thoughts, Disconnected
1.) In case you’re worried, I did finish the 10 days of dresses, although imperfectly, as I do most things. I had to skip one day because I needed to climb in and out of ambulances with my Dad. And I repeated a dress, although I did not intend to do so. I just adore how this outfit makes me twirly and playful. Skater dress from ReDressNYC, petticoat from Domino Dollhouse and sweater from Heart of Haute. Duck face from 50’s Bad Girl Realness.
And this one, which is Grown Up GothLite. I had trouble with the bodice of the dress, which gaped open. But after a few hours, I surrendered and enjoyed the view. At least I wore a cute purple bra. The petticoat is my one true love. Except for the sweaters, which are my Sister Wives.
All in all, it was a fun little experiment. I wore clothes I loved. I felt feminine and sexy, and people smiled at me all the time. But that’s maybe because I was happy. The clothes made me happy, but so did life, mostly. Dresses help me feel in love with the world, and the world responds. Not so much of a surprise. But good to know for the dark days.
2.) I’m obsessed with the 50’s silhouette of fitted bust, narrow waist, full skirt. It suits me. In my head, I am Sophia Loren. Warmth, sensuality, confidence, womanliness. In my head, that is all I want to be. Even as I stumble around, in my slightly goofy way, awkward and sarcastic. Loud and shy in the same amounts. Maybe Sophia isn’t always Sophia either, but that’s not true and you know it. I’m experimenting, I think. But, truth is, I’m a woman in her forties. This is how I dress; this is who I am. Part Sophia, part Emily Dickinson, part unnamed Italian peasant. My Mom has never had long hair. She has no interest in fashion. She never buys herself anything. Most of what she wears are hand me downs from Yolanda (super weird) and me (weird.) She’s 75, but she was a dish when she was younger. I hope I never get that practical. That I’m the old lady in the fun clothes, hoisting up my boobs, checking my ass in the mirror. And thinking like Sophia.
3.) Home Depot is designed by a near-sighted monkey on a mescaline high. I hate it. The displays stink. Nothing is ever where you want it to me, and you end up with a smoking Fitbit by the time you leave. The bathroom vanities were on a high shelf, where I couldn’t touch or feel. And would never buy. Men blocked the aisles with their big pieces of wood. I almost got into a fight, and ended up with my most sarcastic, “Thanks for your thoughtfulness. Have a good fucking day.” Or, maybe that was my fantasy version. How does this store do well? It makes me depressed. Feels like a place couples visit before they give up and get that divorce they’ve been fantasizing about. Also, why do we need 20 different toilets? We’re too damned spoiled.
4.) In the great wide world of petty issues, why don’t nail polish brushes reach the bottom of the bottle? And why don’t pump bottles get every drop of expensive creams and elixirs? Why do we pretend that we’re paying for more than we’re getting?