A Riot of Bright (Mostly)

Orson the wombat wanted to do a post full of colourful items. He's been dying to wear the Mexican tourist skirt, so I let him. It needs a few alterations before I can wear it, but being a wombat, he's less particular. I really like this skirt, and the tasteful design. I like loud and gaudy too, but this is more versatile. The previous owner did some repairs on the sides that were a mess. I need to pull it all out and start over, but the good news is that it is fixable. Please people, if you can't fix something, take it to someone that can before you ruin beautiful old items like this. Sure, I take manicure scissors to polyester sleeves all the time, but something worth keeping is worth fixing correctly. Lecture over, I'll turn things back over to the wombat.

 So what's next, Orson?

How about a colourful Peter Popovitch skirt from the 80's?

Oh, good selection, Orson! I do love this skirt, though I wish it weren't made of jersey as it starts to pill . I've used a sweater comb on it, and it is still holding up, which I guess is good for something that's essentially a 30 year old tee shirt. Unbelievably, Popovitch is now a collectible designer. Most of his stuff wasn't this nice, though it was bright.

What else have we to show?

 Oh, I remember that handbag! I should use it more. The problem with finding out you have a pricey designer bag is that you become fearful of using it. Looking at it, I wouldn't pay real money for a bag like this, but $3.99 at the Goodwill I'll do.

 I mean, the lining is crappy nylon. For an expensive bag I'd hope for decent lining-but that's me.

 This colourful leather bag doesn't have a label, so I feel free to use it whenever I like. Fringe is "in" this season, though it never was quite, "Out" of my wardrobe.

 Orson, you found my yellow snakeskin clutch! Good work.

Now, that's how to line a handbag. Look at that quality zipper-and that leather. Also from Goodwill.

 These ceramic bird plaques adorn the hallway outside Danny's room.

They're the first thing he sees getting up in the morning, and the last thing before bed. We need to get some, "Museum of Kitsch" labels on them, to keep consistent with the rest of the house.

Well that's all interesting, Orson but do you have anything really bright to show us?

 I wish that dress still fit. I only keep it because every few years I get really sick or something, and it fits again.

 Victor Costa made such gorgeous clothes.

Baring a serious case of food poisoning, I don't see myself fitting into this dress again any time soon. Sure Orson, go ahead and wear it.

So that was the promised riot of bright, but now I have some black and white. I kicked Orson out of the room as he kept complaining. I took my earrings back from him as well. Imagine! I just bought these. He's worse than Danny as the kid only steals my clothes, and leaves the earrings alone.

 Our weather is still being stupid, so the day starts with a jacket.

 But by mid-morning, I'm ready to die in the 80% humidity, so this crepe-y-thing-y has to see me through, and to hell with anyone that doesn't like looking at it. Kind of racy for Omaha, I know. Hell, it was kind of racy for the K Mart I bought it from, but there it was tucked in between the elastic waist trousers and embellished boat-neck tees. I wore it with my terribly sexy elastic-waist pleated polyester skirt.

Yes, I wore a bra with it, though it does nearly look like part of the top. Ordinarily I'd frown on visible bra straps, but yeah, 80% humidity. I feel gross just typing that. It isn't even that hot, just muggy. There's mushrooms growing in all the mulch around the neighbourhood, Danny's already had a mould-induced asthma attack and a trip to the urgent care, and my throat is so scratchy and swollen I feel like I licked a cat or something (I'm very allergic to cats). I haven't been licking cats, because that would be disgusting, and anyway, I'm allergic. Yep, it is humid, so I wore a shockingly scanty top.

Errr, there's just the tiniest bit of middle aged boobage peeking out there. I can't decide if that's too much, or not enough. I look like my grandmother who was always peering down her shirt, or swimsuit to see if the boobs needed adjusting. My sister would spot her and shout, "Don't worry Alice, they're still there!" And she'd look just like this, trying to look like she wasn't looking, but everyone knew she was. Then she'd reach in and hoist 'em back into place.

Tonight is the Grey Gardens party/viewing at Film Streams. We have our costumes ready to go, and I'll be sure to get photos. It is a strange sort of bonding when you have to explain to your ten year old son how to pull on a pair of stockings. He's interested in theatre, so I'm sure he has many years of wearing tights ahead of him...they just won't be leopard print. Probably. People keep insisting on doing these oddball Shakespeare stagings, so you never know.

This awful weather has me thinking Little Edie was onto something going sans-pants. I'm not sure I could rock a swimming costume and tights, but with the right shirt wrapped around my hair, perhaps.

I fed the wombaaaat.