I am, for the first time that I can REMEMBER, not wearing ANYTHING that I made today. For reals, and srsly. I am not sure how this happened, but I blame this skirt above. I was so excited to see a that I hit "Buy" before I realized that, since I only make dresses and skirts, BUYING a skirt would mean that I would be venturing out of the house in clothing made entirely by OTHER PEOPLE.
Which I did today, and yet the sky didn't fall.
Although the skirt is really comfortable (and remember, I sit on a giant exercise ball instead of a chair, so my skirts must allow for at least some movement) the pockets are a bit shallow for my taste. And of course, it's a KNIT skirt, so if you put lumpy things in them they aren't swallowed in folds and folds of fabric, so lumpy things stay lumpy. (I transferred my pedometer and phone to the pockets of my cardigan.)
I do think it's slightly boring, as clothes go. It could be because I'm wearing (with the black skirt) a dark gray t-shirt, heather gray cardigan (with pockets!), knee-high socks with an abstract black-and-gray argyle pattern, and black penny loafers. This is my own fault; I could have worn a bright yellow cardigan and pink t-shirt, with yellow-and.jpgnk socks (this is not a thought experiment; I have such items in my closet). The nice thing is that I am wearing a very pretty gray pearl-and-chain necklace that my mother gave me years ago and that I hardly ever wear (because when you're leaving the house in stripes/camo/huge florals/very bright geometric patterns jewelry seems a little beside the point).
This particular combo is making me feel strangely grown-up; clothes are very nice but they are definitely Mom Clothes. The next stop on this train is, of course, . (I actually like Eileen Fisher, and as soon as my hair stops futzing around and goes completely gray like I want it to I will probably save up my pennies — Eileen Fisher is expensive! — and start wearing more Eileen Fisher.)
Weirdly, though, even though I'm wearing all gray and black, I feel tremendously conspicuous. If you're wearing a bright-orange dress printed with anvils (just as a thought experiment; I don't actually have a bright-orange dress printed with anvils … yet) you obviously don't give a damn about what people think about your clothes, so any judgments roll right off you. If you're wearing a tasteful black skirt, gray cashmere cardigan, and pearls, well … see what I mean? There will be twenty other women on the street wearing the same thing today, and I am definitely NOT in the top ten percent of women who can do this look right. It seems odd to feel more conspicuous in a tasteful knit skirt than in orange-and-anvils, but obviously orange-and-anvils is my comfort zone, and that's all there is to it.
To sum up: it's a nice skirt. I like it. Next time I'll wear it with bright colors. Also, I need an orange dress printed with anvils.