There was a time when looking forward to a party meant that I could spend my nights anticipating the event and planning my attire. Those nights went quickly. As I lay in bed, I'd dream of all the outfits I could wear. All the choices. Exactly what "look" I'd want to pull off. And all the shopping I could do.
Nowadays, if I can escape over to Target for diapers and wipes, I'm having a good day. And if I manage to shop, I'm schlepping about 60-pounds extra baggage. You know, Girlfriend, big bag containing snacks, juice, raisins, wipes, diapers, a few loose Cheerios, plus a mystery compartment you don't dare stick your hand into. If you did, you'd have to call in the local Hazmat crew.
So, it was my sister's 30th birthday and they had a party for her at an LA Bar in a huge popular tourist/entertainment spot last night. Dooze's crowd is a nice but "cool" crowd and happen to be 12 years younger than me. Well, most of them were at least 12 years younger, 'cause Dooze is 12 years younger than me.
Thing is, I did my usual and had a nervous breakdown two hours and counting down to Time-to-Leave. Nothing to wear. Sure, I could wear my usual (sweats and permanently stinky stained t-shirt), but that was out of the question. This joint was on the upper level, if you get my drift. So I froze.
Sure, I could have worn:
- Bright pink patent leather Gucci's (very Mary Tyler Moore), black Capri's, black top, hair in pony tail
- Chuck Taylor's, hounds tooth skirt, Orangina
- Worn loose Levi's, black tank, Hermes scarf, black Gucci loafers with pony hair uppers and silver old school bits
- White t-shirt, white linen skirt, beaded Indian sandals, loose curled hair, orange lipstick
Now that I'm sitting here with my gin and tonic I realize I had lots of options. Instead, last minute, as expected, I froze: What to wear? I have nothing to wear! What kind of place is this anyway? Will I fit in? Sheesh, nothing fits. I'm fat. I'm fat. And this bra, it's too padded. I look like I could feed the world with these boobs this bra is so padded.
Then HWWV comes in and gives me a little direction.
Next thing I know, I show up at the party wearing a chartreuse James Perse t-shirt, green linen pants, yellow-green Gucci loafers, and a sick smile.
I tell you what: I looked like a honeydew melon. I looked like lime-flavored Martha Stewart with a twist. And worse, everyone else in the place was wearing jeans and black things. Black everywhere. Black lace. Black jersey. Black eyeliner, black nail polish, black hair. Black black black. And there I was in the center of the place.
It looked as if someone was shining one of those black lights in my general direction and I was vibrating green ooze.
"Hey, I think I'm the only one here wearing any color," I yelled to my sister-in-law (the place was loud).
"Nope," she hollered, and pointed.
It would have been a good idea to grab her and leave out the back door.
So I spotted that shawl pattern, Ella on the latest Knitty designed by my blogging friend, Wendy. I bought some Twisted Sisters merino in a colorway that reminds me of my backyard. If I like this one, I think I'll be springing for some of that Lorna's Laces Lion and Lamb to make another.
I'm also making headway on the Vesper Sock Yarn Knee High's I'm doing in Knit and Tonic colors. To die for. Really. Part of me wants to frog back a bit and make leg warmers instead. But then again, not such a good idea.
BTW: Marilyn's Not-So-Shrunken Cardigan is ready. I'll post a link for it tomorrow! Go looking for Elsebeth Lavold Silky Tweed or Silky Wool at your LYS or online...