Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Any horse but a clothes horse
No one has ever accused me of being a clothes horse. Okay, maybe I was consumed for a couple of high school years, when I admit to keeping a chart in my closet lest I inadvertently repeat an outfit during any three week interval. But for heaven's sake, people, that's been more than 25 years. These days I subsist on a steady diet of T-shirts and casual pants, all machine washable and rarely ironed--and none so precious that being used as a human napkin after a boy finishes a plate of spaghetti would ruin my day.
A couple of years ago, after Boo graduated from spit-up school, I commited to upgrade my look. For Christmas (at my request), my husband bought me a session with an image consultant, who purged my closet of clothing from several decades, outlined a basic wardrobe to work towards, and (best of all!) handed me an item-by-item list of what to buy, at what store, and how to accessorize it. I don't like to shop, but I am pretty damn good at following instructions, and for a few months, I think I succeeded in developing a more put-together look. Several times a week I managed to assemble entire outfits, complete with jewelry or a scarf. I even changed my purse a couple of times a week.
And then I began to backslide. The boys had more activities. I immersed myself in building the garage apartment and making wholesome meals and eradicating rats.
(Funny aside: Today Max was reviewing his artwork that covers the walls of the playroom. One piece--a painting exercise in color blending, with three mice as its subject--had fallen off the wall. Max picked it up, studied it, and declared, "This painting is about the animals that drove mommy crazy for the last 13 months!" So it was only 4 months, but it FELT like 13 months--and evidently, not just to me.)
But I digress. I was saying that I'd fallen off the sartorial self-improvement wagon. The fact is, most days I give very little thought to what I wear. And I guess that's taking an unexpected kind of toll.
Our schedule today revolved around the swimming pool. Max had sports camp this morning, swim team practice this afternoon, and his very first swim meet this evening. The weather was a scorcher. So I abandoned my usual capris and zipped up a skirt--simple, brown, flared, with lavendar top-stiching. When Boo arrived home from a swimming lesson of his own, he stared in my direction.
"Mommy, are we going swimming?"
"Not right now, sweetie."
Well, is that a bathing suit?"
"No, honey. It's a skirt."
Soon it was time to return Max to the club for the swim meet. Just before we headed out, I slipped on a fresh sundress and straw hat. This time it was Max who was confused.
"Mommy, is that a bathing suit you're wearing?"
"No, darling, it's a dress."
Note to self: Must wear feminine attire more often; children ought to be able to identify basic articles of clothing before starting grade school.
A couple of years ago, after Boo graduated from spit-up school, I commited to upgrade my look. For Christmas (at my request), my husband bought me a session with an image consultant, who purged my closet of clothing from several decades, outlined a basic wardrobe to work towards, and (best of all!) handed me an item-by-item list of what to buy, at what store, and how to accessorize it. I don't like to shop, but I am pretty damn good at following instructions, and for a few months, I think I succeeded in developing a more put-together look. Several times a week I managed to assemble entire outfits, complete with jewelry or a scarf. I even changed my purse a couple of times a week.
And then I began to backslide. The boys had more activities. I immersed myself in building the garage apartment and making wholesome meals and eradicating rats.
(Funny aside: Today Max was reviewing his artwork that covers the walls of the playroom. One piece--a painting exercise in color blending, with three mice as its subject--had fallen off the wall. Max picked it up, studied it, and declared, "This painting is about the animals that drove mommy crazy for the last 13 months!" So it was only 4 months, but it FELT like 13 months--and evidently, not just to me.)
But I digress. I was saying that I'd fallen off the sartorial self-improvement wagon. The fact is, most days I give very little thought to what I wear. And I guess that's taking an unexpected kind of toll.
Our schedule today revolved around the swimming pool. Max had sports camp this morning, swim team practice this afternoon, and his very first swim meet this evening. The weather was a scorcher. So I abandoned my usual capris and zipped up a skirt--simple, brown, flared, with lavendar top-stiching. When Boo arrived home from a swimming lesson of his own, he stared in my direction.
"Mommy, are we going swimming?"
"Not right now, sweetie."
Well, is that a bathing suit?"
"No, honey. It's a skirt."
Soon it was time to return Max to the club for the swim meet. Just before we headed out, I slipped on a fresh sundress and straw hat. This time it was Max who was confused.
"Mommy, is that a bathing suit you're wearing?"
"No, darling, it's a dress."
Note to self: Must wear feminine attire more often; children ought to be able to identify basic articles of clothing before starting grade school.
1 Comments:
You write very well.
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