Tonight is the much awaited family ball at my daughter's school. I was all prepared with pretty little dresses for the girls for this year. Way to plan ahead! (Or way to reuse the lovely Christmas dresses my mom bought them).
But no. This year is a Western theme. Uh oh.
I don't really do western. And I say this, and still think this, despite realizing that all my favorite songs are country and I've newly discovered the time period of the American Western in literature and am reading voraciously both fiction and non-fiction.
Also, Chris Isaak looks fabulous in his black cowboy boots.
Yet when I try to put on a gingham shirt at Old Navy I just... couldn't... do it. I'm wondering why. Why this visceral reaction? There must have been some sort of country western revival in fashion at a pivotal point in my youth that I'm reacting against. That's all I can think. Also, by nature, I'm a city girl - heels clicking on a sidewalk is one of my all time favorite sounds. Lamp posts making cones of light through the fog. Shoppers bustling around with packages. Business types carrying laptop bags. All my kind of thing.
This horizon broadening can really only go so far.
I stop at fashion.
I now own a nice Mexican styled black sundress that I think should work since Mexico plays into western movies... it's all connected... right? We'll call it my Legend of the Sierra Madre dress. And Miss Boop's shiny pink cowboy boots should work... see, she's a little bit glam, too. Oh the juxtaposition!
Tomorrow I'll let you know about all the how downing fun and if I get my act together I've got a good book to tell you about, too.
Spotlight: Pipeliner by Shawn Hartje
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