You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘skirts’ tag.

  • Dispensing financial advice.

suzeormanI have a secret dream of being a more fashionable, less abrasive, and heterosexual Suze Orman.  Problem is, all of my financial advice is based on growing up with a banker mother and making a lot of mistakes, but no matter. Jewish Friend said that her credit score has improved since becoming friends with me, and yours can too! Ask me how!

I have nice shoes; I make it a point to have nice shoes, but I get more compliments on my Danskos than on any other pair I own even though they’re two year old and look (I think) like hell.  Most comfortable shoes ever, except for driving.  It is because of my Danskos that I was asked to be a part of Culture Friend’s group for LSC 527, and why I didn’t have to do as much work as some people in other, small groups, and got to use the word scurvy during my part of the presentation.

  • People who pay attention to me.

When I wrote the blog yesterday about the things I hate, I was gchatting with Jewish Friend and Map Fleece.  I couldn’t remember enough things that I hate off the top of my head because I was annoyed by one thing in particular, so I asked them, and they gave me a whole list.  This makes me feel special, and makes me believe I either complain about things over and over enough, or people are actually listening to my inane blather.

  • DINOSAURS!!diplodocus

Really, do I need to say anything about how awesome dinosaurs are.  I mean, damn, dinosaurs rule.  Look at that picture.  Diplodocus, longest of all the dinosaurs, is often compared to the design of a suspension bridge.  He lived in the late Jurassic period and first remains were discovered by S.W. Williston in 1878 in the Morrison Formation, parts of which are in North Dakota, although most of it is it Wyoming/Colorado.  Diplodocus is also my favorite dinosaur, and I think would have made a good pet.

lady-gagaSeriously, she rocks so hard it makes my heart hurt.  I’m only writing this blog because I don’t want to shut her off, I can’t bear to turn it down enough to read, and I actually finished putting away laundry.  This is “getting stuff done” music, except for the slow song, which is so unnecessary.

  • Skirts.

Swishy, comfy, fashionable.  I would like to be known as “the girl in the skirt,” and I think I’ve pretty much managed that, except that most people who talk about me know my name.  Perhaps there’s an entire group of admirers who don’t know my name who simply refer to me as “the girl in the skirt”– I’m fine withcheese2 that.

  • Free Cheese.

Paid-for cheese is pretty great too, but there’s nothing better than cheese for nothing.  Free food in general is pretty rad, but cheese, man, it makes me so happy.

  • On-site laundry.

I used to have to drive across town to my brother’s apartment to do laundry.  This wasn’t too bad because we ate pizza and watched TV, but it meant that I had to do ALL of my laundry in one day, get quarters, and sometimes wait for the machine.  I also, inevitably, needed to leave before it was all done and would have to ask him to take my stuff out of the dryer, which he always made a big production about.  Now I just go downstairs, sometimes in my PJs.

the-slanketThe ad copy calls it “The Best Blanket Ever,” and it is.  I will not shut up about the Slanket.  People ask me how my Slanket is, like it’s a living entity, and normally this would drive me nuts– not this time.  My Slanket keeps me warm from neck to toes, and I love it more than I could a human child.  Also the website includes this story:

Slanket Proposal
My boyfriend and I have been talking about getting Slankets for weeks, but hadn’t yet bought them. I came home on Saturday, and he said he got us early Valentine’s Day presents- Slankets! He had his on, and gave me mine. Turns out, he had had his mother sew pockets into mine, and inside the pocket was an engagement ring… He asked, and I said yes! Proposal via Slanket… what could be better?!
  • Knee Socks.

Love knee socks, love them.  They don’t get all bunched up in my shoes, they keep my calves warm, and sometimes I wear them with my skirts, which makes me look like a schoolgirl (may the reason I get “holla’d” at by gross old men, but no matter).  Sometimes I don’t want to wear tights, or have no tights available because despite my wonderful on-site laundry I am still shockingly lazy– knee socks it is.

It’s 58 degrees today, according to my Firefox Forecast.  Naturally, I took advantage of this lovely weather, and put on a skirt that I planned on not being able to wear again until spring.  Perhaps this was foolish.

On my walk to work this morning, I got whistled at by four people who drove by me, got a “how you doing” from some guy waiting at a light, got the same compliment I always get from the guy waiting for the bus, and got asked for my number by an on-duty postal worker– this was all within 4 blocks of my house.  Apparently this skirt is magic because another time I was wearing it, I backed my car into a guy (his car, not his person) and the sight of the skirt calmed him down enough to stop him from yelling at me.

That’s all well and good, flattering etc., but with the price of stamps, I don’t think postal workers should be wasting time and gas following me around in the little truck with the wrong-side steering wheel and whistling.  Also, I just want to walk to work in peace, and I would like to stop writing blogs about getting whistled at.

Change of topic.

My boss has requested that I spend the next few days familiarizing myself with our new online learning program.  I know this will not take a few days, and therefore, I am sitting in my cubicle buying more footwear from the internet and blogging.  To be fair, my black boots broke a while ago (heel split), and I’ve been forced to wear only shades of brown and other neutrals since I’m too lazy to take the boots to a cobbler, so this purchase is slightly legitimate.  I could also stop being a lazyass and find a damn cobbler– but that really doesn’t sound like me.

Cobblers are something that I just never think of, and kind of assume don’t actually exist outside of fairy tales. Even though I could look it up, and probably find 1/2 dozen very close to where I live, bavarianin the back of my mind, I just assume that no one repairs shoes anymore.  I also picture any potential cobbler that I might find running his business out of a lovely Bavarian-style shop with smaller-than-average employees who whistle while they work and spontaneously burst into song.  I think if I found a cobbler who wasn’t operating under those circumstances, I would be very disappointed, and perhaps lose some of my girlish enthusiasm for life– there’s really no way to predict that though.

Point is, despite the advice of a very wise woman who after listening to my complaints about my boots being broken replied “Andria, find a cobbler.”  I will be employing my own method of boot repair, which includes some black electrical tape and a hot glue gun, and I’ll probably do it while wearing the new black boots I just ordered.

Since becoming friends with Joe Roch, I’ve been made a lot more aware of what’s going on with tv these days.  Typically, I listen intently as he describes how amazing Mad Men or Lost are, and nod like I will watch these shows (but don’t really plan to– sorry Joe).  One of his obsessions stuck in my head though– Project Runway.

“It’s really cool because they win based on talent, and make some really interesting clothes.” he insisted.

Ever since taking Home Ec (or, the more PC: Family and Consumer Sciences) in 8th grade, I’ve been a bit obsessed with sewing.  Both my paternal and maternal grandmothers were sewers– one made pillows, one made quilts (though they had made their own clothes back in the day), and I remember having an odd moment of panic when I moved out to Rhode Island and realized that I was buying a blanket for the first time in my life rather than just grabbing one of the 50 in the closet.  My skills aren’t much– I can make a kick-ass pillow in no time, but shirts and skirts are a bit more difficult.

“Do you actually get to watch them design and sew the clothes?  Do they explain what they’re doing?” I asked.

“Sure.” he blinked, “I really don’t know how to sew, but it’s fabulous to watch.”

So I watched the damn thing, and dug it quite a bit.  Now my head is full of dreams of making my own beautiful dresses and skirts and jackets and writing a strongly-worded letter to Old Navy saying “you carried all of these crap dresses that did not look good on me, so I just made my own!”

The problem is, patterns.  A while ago, I went through a phase similar to this one, and did come out with quite a few skirts and pillows.  Once I got sick of copying skirts that I already owned, I went down to Jo-Ann Fabrics and saw what they had to offer.  The pictures on the outside look good, but what you can’t tell from the colored-pencil drawing (or at least I can’t), is what the item will actually look like once you make it.  I spent a lot of time measuring twice and cutting once only to find that once I put on my creation, it looked… odd.

Most of these items hung in my closet never to be worn except around the house when I would try to convince myself that they didn’t look too silly. I could blame myself and my lack of skill, but I never attempted to do anything that I was uncomfortable with or hadn’t done before– the problem was the patterns were straight out of 1950 and not in a fun, vintagy kind of way.

Clearly, the answer is– I need to be more of a designer than a sewer.  I need a dressmaker’s dummy, and a full arsenal of the implements that allow one to make clothes that look good and wearable– or else I go back to copying designs that I’ve already bought.

I’m going to figure this out, and I have the first disc of the first season of Project Runway waiting at home to help me.

I’m a skirt-wearing kind of girl. I wear skirts as often as I can, have many, and am always on the lookout for more. My brother remarked to me one frigid winter day when I insisted on wearing a skirt even though it was insanely cold, “If you could wear a skirt every day, you’d be a happy camper, huh?”

I said, “Yes.”

The only real drawback to dressing this way (besides the cold, but that can be warded off handily a pair of patterned tights, of which I have many) is the fact that most skirts need to be hung. I fold the denim skirts, but the rest require those clippy pants-hangers, or else I have to iron. I do not iron, instead I buy hangers.

Before I moved out to Rhode Island, I had amassed a huge collection of hangers. Most of them were gotten for free from Old Navy because apparently the cashiers at the Fargo store are simply too lazy to take items off of hangers, which worked out well for me. Since all of these hangers were free, I decided not to take up precious space in my car with them, and left them behind.

The cashiers at the Old Navy in Providence are much more vigilant about removing hangers, so I had to go buy some.

Wandering the hanger aisle at Target is not something I usually do. I was unfamiliar with the varieties presented to me, and appalled by the cost. $5 for a two-pack of the clippy hangers and I couldn’t even hang a shirt on the top part. They did look sturdy though, thick plastic and a rubberized grip in either inside of the clip. I figured that at $2.50 per that meant I was getting a quality product, and still avoiding buying the satin ones that were an outrageous $12.99 for three, and simply too flouncy and girly for me to take their ability to hold my skirts up seriously.

Turns out that these hangers suck.  The clips are too widely spaced to hold one skirt, so I have to pile three on, then it gets too heavy, and they slip; the clips break; and when I take one skirt off the hanger, the rest fall on the floor.  I remain indignant about the amount of money spent on these stupid things, so every morning is a struggle because I refuse to replace them with something better.  It’s a horrible way to start the day, and as a result, I’ve been wearing more and more dresses (which cost more that hangers, but are much more fun to buy).

I’ve put way too much time and thought into this dilemma, but I really think that the more annoying thing in life is when you buy something that has one function but fails to perform it.  I dislike throwing things away, but I dislike when my favorite skirt falls on the floor without me realizing and I can’t find it when I need it most.