Okay, so the title of this post is not strictly accurate. Yes, I’m wearing chartreuse, but I’m no chanteuse. I mean, I am female, and I like to sing, but the last time I frequented a nightclub was…never. Still, how often do you get a chance to throw such a fun and funky word around? Yes, I agree. I had to.
So, let’s talk about this skirt.
It’s originally from LOFT, but I, of course, scored it at Goodwill for $4 as part of this round of the 30 Minute GW Challenge.
When I showed it to my husband, his brow crinkled, and he said, “Wait. Don’t you have that skirt already?”
To which I replied (with a generous eye roll), “No, baby, that other skirt is a maxi. This one’s totally different.” (Although, if we’re being honest, I immediately knew which skirt he meant–see it here–so maybe that “totally” before the “different” wasn’t completely necessary).
I almost missed my chance to wear this skirt during this pregnancy, but managed to squeeeeze everything (AKA my growing girth) in there without feeling too constricted.
Oh, and now let’s talk about this shirt. Remember how I styled it 3 ways way back when? Well, I don’t know that I’ve worn it since. Apparently, I had such great ideas of all the ways that I could wear it that, in my brain, I had worn it all those ways, numerous times, and was done! But seriously, the main reason I do not wear it often is because a) my husband does not care for it at. all. and b) it is a bit on the loud side.
But, I don’t know–that limey-green skirt just seemed like it was begging for something that matched its level of cheerful obnoxiousness.
And, finally, since we’re on this whole talking about my clothes bit (okay, okay, I am), we can’t forget the shoes.
I was standing in Target with my girls one afternoon staring at–no lie–at least 50 pairs of size 7 1/2 Mossimo gold shimmer flats (I took a picture for Instagram because…how could I not??) when I saw a girl wobbling around in these fabulous red wedges, trying to convince herself that her ankles weren’t swimming in the gaping openings.
I eavesdropped discreetly on her conversation with her friends and discovered that the shoes were size 9 1/2 and were only $9. And she wanted them to work sooooo badly, but they seemed a “little loose.” (Yes, and Mt. Everest is “kind of tall”).
At which point, I chimed in with just the right amount of sympathy and wise agreement, “Man, they are reeeeeally cute on you, but they definitely look too big around the ankle. That seems like it would get old.”
At which point, she pulled a disappointed face, took them off, put them back, and then walked away.
At WHICH point, I–resisting the urge to muahahaha and rub my hands together like a super-villain–snatched them up and plunked them in my cart.
Here’s the deal, I knew that my ankles would be long lost in those cavernous openings too. But my almost-32-year-old DIY obsessed mind knew something that her young, undeveloped must-buy-everything-perfect 18-year-old consciousness had never dared to think: you can hot glue shoes!!!
I got those suckers home, and they languished in my garage for a week and 1/2, but then in a frenzy of “must wear loud shoes with the loud skirt and the LOUD shirt to church,” I snipped the straps on those beautiful, wobbly red shoes, reapplied them more tightly with generous globs of glue, and–VOILA!–they fit like a dream. (Except that I have a small blister on the back of my right heel from a dried bit of hot glue I didn’t get off).
So…moral of the story? Never be afraid to feign concern while manipulating someone out of buying a perfectly repairable pair of fabulous shoes. Because this is the kind of life lesson that applies in so many scenarios.
So, what about you guys? Have you ever talked someone out of buying something only to swoop in and take it home for yourself? I miiiiiiight be a repeat offender on this one.
‘Fess up: did you know what a “chanteuse” was before you read this post? I had to look it up to make sure I was right (I was) and wasn’t going to accidentally end up calling myself a “lady of the night.”Like what you read? Like M is for Mama on facebook (pretty please?):