I made a dress a decade ago, something between an evening and a ball gown. Ballerina length. I found it in a closet at my parents’ house today and to my great shock the thing still fits. I remember it being a snug fit 7 lbs ago, so I don’t know how it zipped up so easily this afternoon. Still, it fits and it looks fantastic so I’m trying to figure out if a ballerina hemline is still doable. That length can look very debutante ball to me, but it’s more practical than a full floor length gown since it works for more occasions. Though I’ve only worn it once, so fussing over trying to make it work for multiple events is kind of stupid.

I have, ahem, a LOT of shoes. A harem, really. Too many for one person to enjoy; a collection of beautiful things that are all mostly neglected and hidden from the world.

I thinned out the raggedy ones, and the pairs that I know I’m never going to wear (still haven’t consigned the last 5 designer stragglers), and I am still left with A LOT of shoes. And most of them never get worn. I haven’t performed an updated count post shed, but I’m pretty sure I could wear a different pair every day for at least 3 months without repeating. But instead I tend to reach for one of about 10 pairs. Well no more!

I’m taking a stand – or a sit down – whatever the situation demands – on behalf of neglected shoes! The members of my shoe harem will be equally attended to! They will all fulfill their purpose! I will wear a different pair every time I get dressed and not repeat until everyone has had some lovin’!

It seems I have found yet another way to procrastinate.

Alas.

I have a surprising attachment to my some of my shoes. Surprising because the attachment isn’t for the shoes I expected. I hate referring to my shoes as a collection, so I’ll say instead that I have a large selection of shoe offerings. Among them are of course a few favourites, and a few work horses, my attachment to those obvious. There have been a few cheap-o’s that I’ve bought and departed with easily when they either didn’t work or lost their appeal, and there are a few expensive pairs that I’d have no problem consigning if I felt I was no longer interested in them. The bizarre trouble spot is with the expensive designer shoes that I bought at an amazing price. I sorted through my shoes the other day and identified 5 pairs that either don’t fit the way I want or just don’t work for my style. The shoes are gorgeous and I liked them enough to buy them, thinking that ‘at that price it’s worth a try’ but now that they aren’t working out I can’t stand the idea of getting rid of them. With the price I picked them up for, I’ll actually make money if I consign them, but I don’t want to! I’ll never wear these shoes; they’re taking up precious real estate in my shoe storage, but I don’t want to part with them.

It’s the deal. I snagged them at such great prices that I can’t stand the idea of sending them on their way. I keep trying to figure out a way to make them work. They’re gorgeous shoes, so what if they don’t quite work with my wardrobe? They don’t fit? Add heel pads! Errrrrgh!!!

There’s probably a technical psychology word to describe this, but I’m determined to get over it before it gets to the point where I’m being diagnosed.

A quick and easy grocery store outfit, perfect for selecting onions, reaching for cereal, and bending for boxes of sugar. The Princess thinks this shirt is hilarious, I haven’t let my parents see it yet though.

Ah, crotch bunch. I have my belt cinched one hole tighter than I should. I wore this (without crotch bunch) out for dinner with The Princess and The Littlest Princess and his fiancees last week. I added a chain loop around the lapel that drapes around the back. I like the look of the chain but wasn’t sure how it would work in real life. It worked well while I was standing and walking around, but the problem I ran into was the transition from sitting to standing. The loop is just long enough that if I’m not careful it can get caught under my bum and prevent me from getting upright.