Shiny Thrift Store Lady

Argh!

Tripped by technology.

Even though I got this illustration turned right-side-up in "Photo Viewer," it didn't translate to downloading on the page. That being the case, go ahead, stretch out with your head comfortably propped on your hand, and imagine this as a realistic photo (which I forgot to ask the subject if I could take) rather than a creative (if I do say so myself) animated rendition.

 It was while browsing at a local thrift store that I was captivated by a mature lady dressed in classy clothing complete with sparkles, especially concentrated on her hat, collar, and bodice.

The sparkles came mainly from crystally jewelry, which she said she'd affixed to the fabric herself. Rather than looking overwhelming, the shine actually complimented the woman's life journey lines (translate: wrinkles.)

Yet the smile on her face and her accessory glow really did appear to make the skin lines irrelevant. Instead, her appearance created a feeling of joy and infinite possibilities, perhaps in part because she admitted to creating her outfit from the very thrift store in which we stood.

So how about you? Do you like sparkles? How about for wearing?

Or are you more of a keep-the-sparkles-to-the 4th of July type of person?

Ragged Hems and Sparkle Butts

How are crooked hems pretty? I don't get it. (I've also been accused of having no fashion sense, so ignore me if you closet is full of sweeping asymmetrical hemlines.) When I see a crooked hem, my fingers itch to get at my scissors, pins, needle and thread to fix it.
And how are sparkle butt pants attractive? (Again, if you have nothing but sparkle butt pants, WHY?") Unless you have the dimensions of a pencil and your butt is your best asset (har-har) why draw attention to it? I've followed behind ladies clad in sparkle butt designs and, yes, it does broaden their base.
What fashions curl your eyelashes? (I'm sure you'll find some in my closet!)

I feel pretty...

I was riding my funky 3-wheeled recumbent off the front apron of WalMart when I saw the lady sashay out of the store. She flipped blonde hair over one shoulder and strode out into the sunshine with confidence. That was admirable, since she wore a dress made from the dull side of a roll of aluminum foil. No kidding. It was silver. Her black stockings had so many designs running rampant that they made her legs look diseased. Startling red high heels that didn't match a thing clicked across the pavement.
I sat there under my tan shade hat with the big yellow flower pinned to one side, a sunflower sari draped over one shoulder, light-up flips pressed to my bike pedals and a pair of bright yellow sunglasses over my eyes, thinking, "It's amazing what some people will wear in public..."

Happy Pink Shirt

by Shirley Bahlmann
In one single week I overheard three different people say what a wonderful Deseret Industries St. George, Utah had. "The best in the state," "the best in the country," "the best ANYWHERE."
So when I made the 4-hour drive to visit my son in St. George, I decided to visit the thrift store paved with gold. Hm. Well, it turns out is was not gold paved, gold gilded, or gold anything, unless you count the cheap paint on the velvet Elvis painting. In fact, it looked like a regular old DI to me; some trash, some treasures. I actually thought the one in Provo was better because it was bigger.
But then I started leafing through the racks, and I found a few treasures of my own. I always pick about thirty things to try on, and usually only 3 or 4 fit well enough to consider buying. I had a promising-looking pink t-shirt among my treasures, but when I put it on, the neckline plunged so low I was afraid it would end up in Antarctica.
"Mommy, that's so pretty!" my youngest son said, staring up at me as I tugged the V-neck up and up and up.
"The neckline is too low," I said.
"But, Mommy, you can wear a shirt under it," he said.
"I don't know..."
Then came the line that made me know he was a plant, a miniature D.I. salesman, "But, Mommy, it makes you look young again."
Sold.

Floods or Clamdiggers?

Now that the weather is gradually growing warmer, my pant hemlines are rising. Yesterday, I pulled on a pair of nice, comfortable stretchy pants and walked out in public. But something felt wrong. With the hemline hitting me just above the ankles, I was an awkward, too-tall teenager again. Halfway through the day, I bent over and rolled the hem up twice. When I stood up, I felt comfortable, fashionable, and, yes, even suave.
I began to wonder what the difference is with pant lengths. I mean, if I feel like a clumsy adolescent in pants just above my ankles (reminiscent of junior high school taunts, "Hey, Noah, when's the flood?") Then why do I feel like I could step into the school lunch room and turn every head with two rolls of the hem? What makes the difference? Is it social conditioning, or are women born with pant-length sensors inside their calves that signal when the him is just right?
And how many names do we need for shorts from the knee to the ankle? Exactly what is a clam digger, in cote hauteur terms? What about capris? Knee shorts? Bermudas?
Excuse me, I need to go put on a skirt.