Black is the new black.
I am happy to report the number of women at work and to- ing and fro-ing in the streets of
It seems to be the weekday uniform of many – in combos of trousers, skirts, dresses, cardies, blouses, jackets. Some ultra dressy, some quite casual and washable, but all of them in black. I must admit, it is a bit of a relief after all the pressure to wear color and be lively. I have not gone all black yet, but I know that lazy day nears. It is too easy to not do on that day when the alarm is extra alarming and the closet seems a complicated place to manoeuvre.
I am unearthing my few remaining corporate duds and decided that I really like that 15 minutes when I am freshly showered, coiffed and dressed and out of the house in the brisk of the morning. It feels good to be going somewhere and having a destination. Being part of the world. Mind you, the feeling starts to fade as soon as I am on the bus… but I am enjoying it, even in its briefest of appearances. Mostly, I think I like this chance to wear grown up clothes again -- to be buttoned and pressed and feel sharp. It is a nice change from the soft and forgiving clothes of coaching and house minding. Where one can easily get away with the same bad t shirt and stained workout pants for days.
Fall seems to be approaching here… kids back at school already for a week. I am now dreaming of boots and jackets and rosy cheeks and darkened hair and lipstick shades. And of tweed and texture. And plaid. I mean tartan.
P.S. I saw a poncho yesterday. It didn’t look that great.
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