Damselfly's Wardrobe Wednesdays gave me an idea of my own, but it approaches the world of fashion from what I would consider the total opposite end of the spectrum.
My name is Kristi. And I am extremely style-challenged.
Ever since I can remember, clothes really haven't been all that important to me. I think I can trace it back to the fact that for 13 years, I attended Catholic school, where I was either in uniform or adhering to a pretty strict dress code. Once I got to college, I came to the realization that hey, I can dress however I want now, chopped off my hair, dyed it every color of the rainbow, and pledged allegiance to Trent Reznor and Marilyn Manson every morning. Good times.
Upon graduation, I clothed myself in a professional wardrobe for work that interestingly enough bore a scary resemblance to the aforementioned Catholic school dress code. If it fit, I wore it, and I didn't really pay attention to styles or trends, or what particular pieces looked good on my body.
Until the summer of 2005. I went to Seattle to visit my sister, who is the goddess of all things fashion. She owns more cute shoes and skirts than Isabella has items of pink clothing. Karrie used to work in the fashion industry, and she always looks so put-together and stylish. She took pity on her poor couture-challenged sister and took her shopping. That's when I bought my first pair of designer jeans. And I came home with some really nice (and stylish!) pieces. Then I done got myself knocked up, and of course, none of those nice clothes fit for the next 12 months or so.
Unfortunately, in my new mommy role, I've resorted to some pretty bad fashion choices. Sure, I still have my clothes from my Seattle shopping spree, but I have no place to wear them now since I'm at home with the babe all day, and my trips into the office for work are few and far between. And as I've mentioned before, the shirts, well, they don't quite fit as nicely as they did pre-breastfeeding.
So in the interest of full disclosure (not that full, people. Remember, this is a post written by a former Catholic school girl), each Friday, I'm going to dig into the recesses of my closet to show you just how challenged I am. Because seriously, if you can't poke fun at yourself, you're taking life way too seriously.
For the inaugural edition of Fashion Fright Fridays, we're going to travel back in time to 1997. You remember 1997, right? You went to see Titanic three times in the movie theatre. You watched South Park every night, and you were probably just learning about the internet.
I was six months from graduating from college, and I was taking a three-week class in London. You can read all about it here. I went to a store, which for me, at that point in my life, was very much like a journey to Mecca. I went to the Dr. Marten department store.
Now, I had two pairs of Docs at home already, so I wasn't new to the shoe. But this store, located in the heart of London, was five stories of pure yellow-stitched heaven, with every conceivable shoe and boot available in the free world.
I saw a pair of silver hologrammed boots, and a love like no other was born. I bought them. I took them home. And I wore them everywhere.
I wore them out clubbing. I wore them to class. I even wore them under my graduation gown. Don't believe me? Here's me and the hubs (who was just my boyfriend then) in May 1997.
And I desperately wanted to wear them under my wedding dress, but the hubs threatened to call the whole thing off if I did.
Truth be told, I still love these boots, even though I know they (like me) are past their prime. I have dreams of passing them down to Isabella someday so she can love them as I did, although she'd probably laugh her mother into the next century upon first glimpse.
Perhaps instead I'll put them in a shadow box and mount them on my living room wall. They deserve a final resting place worthy of all that silver shininess, don't they?