Fashion sense is another of those things Not Among My Finer Traits. I’ve never been any good at deciding what to wear, or looking good in what I do select. I blame this partially, as I do so many things, on my mother.
Mom pretty much dresed me through high school, forcing things like sweater vests with ducks on them, ruffled country blouses, Oxford shirts and ridiculous 80’s pleated pants down my throat non-stop. Any blossoming fashion sense I might have tried to develop was squished like a bug.
Thus, to this day, I make clothing choices that are simple, utilitarian and comfortable, and any forays outside that domain leave me completely unsettled. I am not the sort of girl who can take off her glasses and shake down her hair, suddenly revealing a stunning, transformed, untamed and wild beauty. “Good heavens, Miss Yakamoto… you’re beautiful!!”
NOT SO MUCH.
And so I am sitting here, wearing the skirt that I made, getting ready to interview for a new position at work. It’s a position I’m unlikely to get, due to absolutely awesome competition, and if it’s not in the cards, that will be ok. I enjoy my current position, and given all the applicants, whomever they do pick is going to be outstanding – win-win, all around. Still, there’s this skirt.
This is the best photo I can get of it, sorry – we have no mirrors anywhere with light:
I’m wearing it to force myself outside of my comfort zone, into uncharted territory. It’s working, heh. This thing is a monstrosity to iron. The canvas, she doesn’t like to conform. She also likes to wrinkle at the mere suggestion of a fold. Le sigh. It also requires A Slip – which I don’t have, and only discovered I really needed after I was already at work. Derp. Thus, whilst in motion, I have ankle-length, bunched-up gaucho pants. AWESOME.
Too bad I forgot to wear My Cowboy Shirt.
I wonder if we could conduct the interview standing up, so I could strike this post? Now that would totally secure this job.