I know, I know, could I look any unhappier? It's only partially intentional (mostly it's that I wasn't prepared for the timer, yet it was one of the better of the bunch this morning) due to the very sad burning of the last english muffin. A very small tragedy.
In any case, this is my first venture into the world of skirts-as-dresses. It's something I've avoided in the past, only because I've never wanted to be that girl out in the world who everyone knows is wearing a skirt as a dress. I wonder now why it matters at all, since the prospect of obviously wearing a skirt in a manner not usually seen seems very appealing at this moment, but it's much harder to be confident in this type of thing before one gets to campus.
The skirt was rescued from a bag of clothing going off to donation. I don't know why I threw it in there. I suppose because I bought it ages and ages ago at H&M (six years ago or so, which makes me feel positively ancient) and wore it to death for a few summers and then didn't know what to do with it. I suppose it took the machete of every blog, magazine, and runway everywhere announcing the love of floral-printed dresses smacking me in the side of the head to see the potential in the skirt.
(On the downside the belt is a little bit mangled since I used to wear it to keep my oddly-fitting pair of skinnies up, and I had to poke another hole in it this morning to get it to fit high enough on the waist, but other than that I feel rather good about this. It's a bit tight right now (I just scarfed down a bagel and orange juice) and it's much too cold out to be wearing flats today, but I cannot bring myself to wear boots again. )
This reminds me of a similar situation that happened only weeks ago. My dad loves ebay. I don't really hang about it myself, but if I see something I send it his way and he keeps an eye on it for me. Mom does the same, usually favoring silk scarves for pennies. My dad also has more clothes than my mother and me combined, but that is for another time, and also has a terrific penchant for boots. He ordered a pair of boots for my mother a year or so ago and they passed to me when they didn't fit her. They were glorious, only I did not see it, mid-calf boots reminiscent of cowboy boots but definitely not.
And I was an idiot and got rid of them. I don't know what possessed me. I think I was in a cleaning frenzy. It vexes me, deeply. I now can think of nothing but the outfits that they would have been perfect with. I must let it go.