There is a rumour that somewhere in Scotland today, a woman was seen wearing ballet flats and NO SOCKS!
It was a cruel rumour, because I am in my little office, almost set to put on my fingerless gloves a la Bob Cratchit...
I am in the midst of reading To Kill A Mockingbird in preparation for Dani's book club meeting at the end of the month, and every description of the hot sweltering summer cheers me considerably, as does the three minute hot flash I have every evening around 8 o'clock.
Oh don't begrudge me sharing that little nugget; Barry is certainly well and truly over my menopause already and I am only taking my first tentative steps into that land...
I haven't read the aforementioned book for nearly 40 years and I have decided that I need to read it at least every couple of years hereafter for the rest of my life. But I will save my thoughts for the 31st!
Since it's only March 18th, you have plenty of time to go out and buy and read this gem so you can be ready for the much-anticipated-by-me book club meeting.
But that's not why we are here today, is it? Think of that as a brief commercial on behalf of Dani's blog at the beginning of my post about BLAZERS, kind of like on YouTube.
I have been thinking a lot about blazers lately.
Strange? Perhaps....
As I have cleaned out my closet and my suits in preparation for some other life that involves writing and perhaps the odd contract or something else (tree trimmer? whistle blower? model for Madame Tussauds?) I have been thinking of what I want to wear.
And here's the thing: I don't want to wear a blazer. At least not much.
Now lest you think this is simply a repudiation of my old, corporate life, I must raise my hand swiftly and say "guilty, but only sort of".
See I have never loved a blazer. They are so, well, restricting...
And yet so becoming on others, and even sometimes becoming on me...
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| this one went to live with Martine... |
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| This one got to stay |
I blame it on Michelle Obama.
Yes THAT Michelle Obama:
For years I had laboured under the impression that even if one didn't feel comfortable in a jacket, even if same-said jacket made one feel boxy or busty or just plain uncomfortable, one must still soldier on and in the words of Barney Stinson, SUIT UP.
But no, look at her up there, looking all pretty in dresses and skirts, her upper body covered in cardigans, glorious cardigans, soft, skimming, flattering cardigans!
So when I cleaned out my closets I only kept three or four blazers. I will likely only wear one of them this summer. The rest of the time you will catch me in my little J Crew Featherweight cardigans or the factory Clare ones, which IMO hang together better than the Jackies...
Should I be called forward someday for my Caldecott Medal, my Nobel Peace Prize, or my Publisher's Clearinghouse Million Dollar Cheque, I will sally forth as my dear Michelle would:
Or the Duchess:
and leave the blazers to those hot little tickets Olivia and Clemence....
Sofia and I will be sitting over here in our sweaters...
How about you? Are you a cardigan or a blazer person? Or are you ambidextrous?
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On a completely different note, I am being haunted.
It started with an innocent trip to the Stuart Weitzman website where I stumbled upon the following sandals that I deemed swoon-worthy:
Called the Offset, they are the perfect minimalist shoe that can be worn casual or dressy. I promptly pinned them, and their tan twin, to Pinterest and went about my way.
Oh, I may have added them to the shopping bag, but I did not push the trigger. Sometimes it feels nice to have things in a shopping bag...
But Stuart is smarter than I am. Every single site I visited all day long, every SINGLE site, had a little picture of this sandal:
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| Just lurking in the corner, my own peeping tom... |
My own personal creeper. Big Brother was watching me and he wanted me to be wearing these shoes while he did, which puts him squarely in the shoe fetish camp, don't you think?
Are these little wonders for me? peut-etre...
I will mull on them for a few more days, which should be relatively easy, as I will visit someone's blog tomorrow and there they'll be...
Perhaps if I do nothing they'll simply follow me home and cost me nothing????
So: is the internet taunting you these days with anything?
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Finally, my baby is having his champagne birthday today (who could imagine they could both have their champagne birthdays in the same year?)
My Forrest, grandson of a Forester, turns 19, which is the legal drinking age here in New Brunswick.
He had always been a brute - he was 10 lb, 6 oz at birth - but he is a good boy and one of the two lights of my life!
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| he and Bud and I at the Cuban restaurant I think... |
He may not bear the last name, but he is a McLeod. You need only look at this picture of my grandfather (my dad's dad) at the same age:
His hair even goes like that when he's growing it out... which is why he shaves it...
He doesn't know he has a safe house over in Scotland, but I am sure a light will either be shining for him over at Skye or somewhere where that damn woman with no socks is...
Happy Birthday Sweetie! Drink responsibly! I love you!
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Have the happiest of Wednesdays and stay safe out there everyone!
xoxo
