Dear Linen Pants, whoever thought of you should be knighted. You are the breeze to a July day, the ice to lemonade, the watermelon to picnics. Cool and baggy and light and airy, you wouldn’t deign to get static, and when you wrinkle you simply look more chic than before. If the hot south ever had a signature clothing item, it should be you.
Dear Red Trench Coat, I can’t remember my life before I met you. Your capacious pockets solve a multitude of problems, your weight is somehow just warm enough and just cool enough for nearly any fall or spring day, and your pop of luscious color instantly transforms an outfit. Please don’t ever even think of wearing out.
Dear Leather Feather Necklace, when Merry gave one of you to my roomie, I wanted one, and boy, was I pleased when I unwrapped my next birthday present from her. Seldom have I had a more versatile accessory, simple and beautiful and crafty and a little gypsy, all at once. I decided I needed to figure out how to make my own, so I did, and thanks to Merry’s inspiration, there are now a whole bunch of you out in the world, making even more elegant the necks of those who wear you. At least, that’s the idea. 😀 (note: find your own here)
Dear White Ruffly Socks, the ones little girls wear with patent leather Mary Jane shoes, folded in half with the bit of lace perfectly edging the sock, you know the kind. Oh, how I wanted a pair as a little girl. The epitome of cool, the embodiment of little-girl-class, the unreachable height of fashion. But alas, it was never to be and I only ever admired you from afar. Perhaps I’ll buy a pair to celebrate my eightieth birthday.
Dear Birkenstocks, I hate you. Also, I love you. But don’t forget I still hate you.
Dear Fluffy Robe, although you make me look as if I weighed an extra 73 pounds, somehow I still feel like a women of ease and luxury when I put you on- the kind of woman who rings a small silver bell and her maid brings her crumpets and clotted cream and tea on a tray. Everyone should own a fluffy bathrobe.
Dear Red Fur Coat That I Almost Didn’t Buy, it’s ridiculous to buy a massive fur coat while living in North Carolina. Ridiculous no matter how good the price is. Nobody needs a coat that weighs fifteen pounds and could easily swallow a small cow while living in North Carolina. But I bought you anyway, acting in faith that someday I’d move to New York City and want a ridiculously huge coat. And guess what. I did. I moved here in March when it was almost too warm to wear you, but when my furniture didn’t arrive for longer than expected, and I spent miserably cold nights atop a cold mattress in a cold room with one skimpy little blanket, you came to the rescue. You are like a boyfriend who gives warm hugs, only better because I don’t have to buy you birthday gifts. (“I wonder why I’m single,” she said to herself in an aside…) You are proof that sometimes ridiculous is great.
Dear Cardigans, you are the true hero of women’s fashion, the fix-it-all of unwieldy outfits, the knight in knitted armor as it were. If an outfit is too tight- add a cardigan. Needs sleeves- add a cardigan. Too loose, too sheer, too short, too loud, too quiet, too cold- the right cardigan will fix it all. Chunky and skinny, bland and colorful, toasty and barely-there, I love you all and please don’t ever go out of style, although let’s be honest, I’d wear you regardless. I have heard several guys express their dislike of cardigans, but really, it’s akin to a women expressing her dislike of pockets in jeans. Too bad, so sad, who cares. Cardigans, you rock.
A Year Ago:
Two Years Ago:
Three Years Ago:
My Life Plan (per Lyn) Ha. Ha. Ha.