Hausfrau shoes

Ironically, my orthopaedic shoes from Germany are giving me blisters. Or actually, two raw, exposed circles with a flap of skin hanging off.

I am wearing them for the first time today since buying them last year just before winter (sale. 'Nuff said). I love them. They're bright red with a tiny cork wedge.

I like the idea of being in the shoes of a German housewife. I picture her, sturdy and stout, standing in the frameway of a door, wearing a housedress with a calico print and holding a wooden spoon. So far removed from the actual use of these shoes in my life, as they take me through broken-up sidewalks, past graffiti-covered walls, and to my school with the high security alert set for tomorrow.

Fashion gives me license to dream.

Givenchy Nightingale

It's the bag of my dreams. Quite literally. I dreamed last night that I was shopping at a discount luxury store of some sort (Off Fifth? Last Call?), when I came across it. It was on sale at about 75% retail, but in a shocking pink color. In my dream, I tried it on but decided against it because of the color.

Here's the color that I love, the blue patent.

On the TFS thread, a member described it as a handbag having "moxi" because of the long, thick strap with a zipper running along its length. Apparently, it resembles a bondage mask. Sometimes it's even called the "bondage bag" instead of its actual name, the Nightingale.

This bag sings to me.

Silver cart

When I first came to Seattle, I worked at a pushcart in a downtownish market, selling silver jewelry. There were three main girls who rotated shifts at the cart: me, a punkish blonde, and a ditzy brunette. The other two girls were about 19, and I was many years removed from 19. Still, they were nice enough colleagues to pass the time with--gossipy and vaguely sweet in that 19-year old way.

I saw the formerly punkish blonde last night at the mall. She works for the same people, but now she's stationed at a cart located in a suburban mall, the market having been remodelled into a grocery store. Last I heard, the owners had made her an assistant manager. I doubt she finished the pastry cooking school (pastry, because she was vegetarian) she had enrolled in just before I quit. These days, instead of wearing all black clothing and heavy eyeliner, she sports a poodle perm and cotton dresses from Macy's.

Eyelet

I don't even like eyelet, but I find myself the owner of two expensive eyelet blouses. This situation goes against everything that I stand for in shopping.

1. I spent a lot of money on summer clothing. (Typically, summer clothes are bright, trendy, disposable, and cheap.)
2. I acquired something that I don't love.

Perhaps it dates back to an image imprinted into memory from my college days. I remember standing at the bus stop next to a girl in a thin, almost sheer blouse. The sunlight shone on her, and she seemed so girlish in an unassuming, fragile way, there in her summery cotton frock. I've always loved that image.

Scooter jacket

Now, this one is perfect, except that it's for men. Even the smallest size will likely be too big for me.

But I love the tight, tough fit.

That's how I want to seem on my motoscooter. Tough.

Grrrr.

Scooter vocabulary

I got a scooter last weekend, and so now I'm looking for gear to go with it.

In the world of motorcycling and its various iterations, moto-specific clothing is called "gear," not clothing. And when you add things on to your bike, it's "modifications," not accessories.

Men.

Tops

I don't have a lot of tops in my closet. Rather, I have mostly jeans and skirts and other bottoms. It stems from a pattern of buying acquired in my teenage years.

It used to be that I got depressed about my looks every time I looked in the upward vicinity of my body, and so when I tried on tops, I usually just gave up and put the item back on the rack. And it had always been so difficult in finding proper jeans that fit when I was younger, that I'm still conditioned to purchase pants whenever I find something "close enough."

So now I have to make a conscious effort to balance out my acquisitions. More tops than bottoms. It's slow going, but currrently I'm enamored with the idea of pussy bow tops like this one. I like the irony, the slight tinge of 1950s working girl. And I think it's cute.