I tried out the orange necklace last week and I love it. In fact, I got several compliments and I felt good wearing it. It perked me up, being that it’s bright orange and sort of funky. Plus I found that I had an orange belt that exactly matched it… TOTES exciting, right? (I’ve gone from using the word “totes” ironically, as In, “I’m pretending that I think I’m cool and youthful but
I totes know that I’m making a fool of myself,” to using it seriously, as in, “I’m so used to using the word that I totes don’t even realize I’m saying it.”)
Anyway, the necklace outfit:
Another realization came to me this week, too. Last year, I kept thinking that I had to take the ideas from the fashion magazines and blogs seriously, like I wouldn’t be fashionable unless I was just like them. But, duh, who on earth can be just like those models (except, um, those models)? I’ve begun to recognize that I can use bits and pieces of what’s in those magazines and take off on my own, putting together combinations that make me feel good. Like, I’ve been experimenting with wearing a sort of nice shirt, a glitzy necklace, and then jeans and funky sneakers, rather than trying to be too “matchy-matchy,” as a friend says.
Speaking of funky sneakers, you might remember that last year I wanted a pair of Converse high tops with the wedge heel, and that most of you were pretty aligned with the opposition. (Check out that post at the above link, as well as the comments, if you want a laugh. The violence with which people hated the shoes was sort of… violent.)
Still, I have been craving Converse high tops, and I found a pair with a wedge but it’s hidden inside the sneaker. So I got some. Don’t yell at me!
The friend who told me she might not be my friend anymore if I bought them just cocked her head to the side and said, “they’re not as bad as I thought they would be.” Then she added that she kind of liked them. Or that they were “sort of cute.” Something like that.
I’ll show them with an outfit next time.
Here’s a thought that is totally off-topic: have you ever noticed that if you’re hanging around with someone who eats like a bird, you feel sort of perversely obligated to eat more? What the heck is that all about, anyway?