Wednesday, July 11, 2012

I have always been a little fancy

I have always been just a little bit fancy. OBVS. By "fancy," I mean "drawn to the ridiculous." Oh, I very often didn't quite express it, or, maybe, didn't quite know how to express it. But I always was. Fancy.

I remember when I turned 18 and was on a motorhome trip with my sisters and my one brave brother-in-law. I took a shower and changed into my jams - in this case a thrift store nightgown and peignoir in flouncy white lace. My family busted up with laughter, a little bit at-me-not-with-me actually. Because, well, I was ridiculous.

You learn early on that if you're gonna be the fanciest person in the room, people will stare/laugh/point/roll their eyes/be confused at/by you. I'm not complaining - it's not as if I'm trying to blend in - but at the same time I do find it odd and a little exasperating at times. It's not crazy how being a step or two or six outside the lines is so attention-getting; it's crazy that it elicits some kind of barely concealed contempt. Seriously. It's a head-scratcher. The only way to get used to it is to never do anything else. Then, you don't even notice the stares anymore.

Y'know?

I say all this because I got this amazing little sweater at a thrift store last week. Vintage, ivory, lambswool with a magical (and detachable) fake fur collar. It was marked $10, but it was half-price day. $5! $5-freaking-dollars! So I had to buy it.

But, frankly, I have a bzillion upscaley fancy things that I rarely wear because when do you wear fancy things? So, I just decided to wear it. On a Tuesday. No big. It's just a sweater, right?

Thrifted:

  • The ivory cardigan $5
  • Black nylon t-shirt $3
  • Brown Laredo wrap around skirt $5
  • Black chunky Mudd boots $10
  • Bangles $3
  • Gifted vintage black/gold clip-ons $0
  • Scarf $1
  • Super cool magnifying glass and locket necklace. $2 ( See just how cool below)
Not thrifted: Nothing!

What I would change about this outfit now that I've seen the photo:
  • There is nothing like wearing fake fur all day to make you feel like surely you have some sort of event - no, scratch that - some sort of soiree to attend later. I defy anyone not to feel fabulous. Yes, there was a certain amount of aforementioned skeptical attention. But I'm good with that.
  • I'm not certain if its the photo or the outfit, but I kinda lost my waist here. Hmmm.
Total outfit cost:$29

P.S. See this fantastic flea market find of a necklace? See? 

7 comments:

  1. OK, so "fur is bad", yadda, yadda. But I, a 20+ years vegetarian think it's fine . . . as long as it's second-hand. Ah-ha! Your cardigan is splendorific. It would look even better with a cocktail in your hand. And a cigarette in a long, black holder. Lovely.
    --Sue

    ReplyDelete
  2. um, yeah, you had to buy it! that is an amazing find.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I just found another one. What is with people giving up their gorgeous fake fur? I kind of have too much fake fur now. Oh what a problem to have...

      Delete
  3. I love this post!

    I've learned to not just endure but enjoy the reactions of ladies in the de rigueur outfit du jour. And yes, it's virtually ALWAYS women, sadly, who (either voluntarily or involuntarily) visibly react with disdain, confusion and/or derision. Most men either don't know or don't care what's "In" unless it's a gay man -- and they ALWAYS love the brash and bold and never hesitate to say so.

    Also, I LOVE this outfit! Truly.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Y'know - it's true that a weird stare is the sign of success but I still wonder. What the heck is so upsetting? I will say that it has made me more aware of when I stare at someone/something for any reason. Because, it's not like I don't notice things that I find odd/icky. I do! Now I try to smile as I stare.

      Delete
    2. I know! I still don't understand why so many perfect strangers take MY outfit so personally. Why should it bug them so much? Are they so aesthetically delicate that my clothes are an assault to their senses?

      Delete