Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Not really what one could call a slave to fashion

A friend was visiting yesterday, and while we were chatting she mentioned a talk (or a book or an article? I WAS listening, really, I was!) in which it was mentioned that we shouldn't be "slaves to fashion." Rather than changing our wardrobe because of what's "in" or because we're tired of it or whatever, we should actually wear things out. I couldn't help myself--I had to laugh, and I had to laugh HARD. Without moving from my seat, I was able to show her the tear in the left knee of my jeans, the holes in my socks, and the ragged apple appliqué on my sweatshirt. And my left sandal, the strap of which finally broke through completely Sunday evening and I repaired myself:

Mom? Sibs? Feel free to show this to Dad--don't you think he'll be proud of me? :-)

The reason, by the way, that I'm wearing my duct-taped Fakenstocks is because my back-up pair of Birkenstocks that I kept for an emergency look like this:

Lest anyone think we can't afford new clothes or my husband is stingy, neither is the case: I simply detest shopping! My husband has been trying to talk me into new shoes (well, sandals...my one pair of close-toed shoes that I'm occasionally willing to wear, which are at least five or six years old, are still in excellent condition) for at least six months. In fact, my friend Barbara was trying to talk me into new sandals last year in March and has pointed out to me that if I tell her exactly what model and size of Birkenstocks I want, she can even get them for me at a discount through the pharmacy where she works in Germany. Considering that her daughter Andrea flew here in September and again in January, and that we visited her in December, it's not like I really have a lot of excuse for not taking her up on the offer. I just hate shopping (for anything except books), even on the internet.

Yesterday was a holiday, so at least I had a good excuse for not shopping in real life, and this afternoon I did go to the shoestore around the corner. It's March. Knee-high boots are on sale, but the only pair of Birkenstock-type sandals were men's sandals with two wide black straps. While I couldn't care less what the fashion is (nor what the weather is doing), I do care about MY opinion, and I thought they were ugly, so I didn't get them. I have to give credit to the saleslady for not laughing out loud at me (or my Greek--I was pleased to get the one who doesn't speak English!), but I'm sure that she and her colleagues laughed plenty after I left. I might go downtown tomorrow and try a shoestore where I saw a pair of sandals last summer that I liked, but they didn't have any in my size. But they might now. Jörn is going to Germany in April, so maybe I'll just have Barbara get me some.

And there's no point in shopping for jeans, because although only one of the three pairs I have that fit me are in one piece, within another month or two, jeans will be put away completely until next October or so. (And maybe by then I'll fit back into the next two or three pairs of hole-less jeans...hey, at least I've finally put away the maternity jeans...) As for socks, my feet were getting rather too warm today, so socks will soon be unnecessary as well.

Slave to comfort, maybe, but certainly not to fashion!

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