![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Whee! Femme squee! I have new clothes.
I have a crisp blue criss cross pleated skirt that flares when I walk and a crisp white shirt with one giant blue embroidered rose to match. I may have to buy bobby socks and put my hair in a pony tail to properly express how 50s Prep this makes me feel. But in a good way, like those imaginary girls who smell softly of baby powder and never sweat.
And I have a cream skirt with an alpine village on it and coral trim just above the ruffle, which strikes me as exceedingly French though I have no idea why. And its coordinating light blue shirt with flattering scoop neck, and darts to give the illusion of waist.
And I have a fresh green viney top that makes me feel Springy and I am wearing right now, although sequins? Scratch.
Unfortunately I did not succeed in buying the green of the season, the one that everyone seems to call Green Tea although if anyone served me a cup of surgical scrubs I would certainly not drink it. It doesn't look good next to my face, so I must have tried on every green skirt or pair of pants in two stores, and got no love. (I would have done three, but the door guy at the first H&M said they have no plus sizes anymore, and the door guy at H&M redux said they're back at the first one. I gave up.)
Apparently I'm not *that* femme, though. I turned down a Day of Beauty at a new salon from some guy on the street on the grounds that while $60 is a good deal, it's more than I've got and it's such a good deal that it could be a scam, especially since they want you to decide right then.
Probably not, though, since he -- like all hairstylists -- was complimenting my unspoiled hair even after I said no. I think it must be a little like a field of snow without footsteps. Anyway, campy guys who want something are kinda fun. I've never been called Angel before.
I have a crisp blue criss cross pleated skirt that flares when I walk and a crisp white shirt with one giant blue embroidered rose to match. I may have to buy bobby socks and put my hair in a pony tail to properly express how 50s Prep this makes me feel. But in a good way, like those imaginary girls who smell softly of baby powder and never sweat.
And I have a cream skirt with an alpine village on it and coral trim just above the ruffle, which strikes me as exceedingly French though I have no idea why. And its coordinating light blue shirt with flattering scoop neck, and darts to give the illusion of waist.
And I have a fresh green viney top that makes me feel Springy and I am wearing right now, although sequins? Scratch.
Unfortunately I did not succeed in buying the green of the season, the one that everyone seems to call Green Tea although if anyone served me a cup of surgical scrubs I would certainly not drink it. It doesn't look good next to my face, so I must have tried on every green skirt or pair of pants in two stores, and got no love. (I would have done three, but the door guy at the first H&M said they have no plus sizes anymore, and the door guy at H&M redux said they're back at the first one. I gave up.)
Apparently I'm not *that* femme, though. I turned down a Day of Beauty at a new salon from some guy on the street on the grounds that while $60 is a good deal, it's more than I've got and it's such a good deal that it could be a scam, especially since they want you to decide right then.
Probably not, though, since he -- like all hairstylists -- was complimenting my unspoiled hair even after I said no. I think it must be a little like a field of snow without footsteps. Anyway, campy guys who want something are kinda fun. I've never been called Angel before.
no subject
no subject
no subject
If Mer ever visits Dublin again, I shall sellotape tiny speakers blasting out the Sound of Music soundtrack to her skirt.
no subject