I have been very remiss in posting outfits during my time in Buffalo. This morning, I realized that you might even think I’ve been running around in my altogether–or in clothes for running and Zumba and riding a bicycle. Frankly, there’s been very little evidence of sartorial sass around here lately, never mind sewing antics (what’s a sewing machine again?).
Well, I can assure you that I have not broken any public decency laws, as I have been FULLY clothed this entire time in Buffalo (except for a bikini sighting at Stonybrook and its beautiful gorges last weekend). And, not only have I been fully clothed, I’ve also been making the most of having access to the closets of others, namely Baby Bel’s closet.
(Now handing camera over to Baby Bel, who will give picture-taking a worthy shot despite some rather creative, or sloppy, cropping tendencies.)
The provenance of this dress is unknown, except for the fact that it came from Baby Bel’s closet. I think a friend gave it to her, and since it no longer has tags, I don’t have a clue as to the brand. Or the size. Or why it is so damn cute and I had never spotted it and thieved it from her before.
This dress was found in Baby Bel’s closet. She acquired it in a nefarious trade with Little A, in which Little A wrangled a much more expensive item of clothing (what it was, I have no idea) in exchange for this dress, which originally came from Target. I don’t care about the politics and trade negotiations and settlements that went into the agreement; I’m just glad I get to wear it when I visit in the summer.
The funny thing about having sisters–apart from being a collective toilet-paper-sucking unit–is that we all shop at pretty much the same stores . If Target and Old Navy were as marketing-savvy as they should be, they’d ship us a truckload of their best items each season and have no need for any marketing campaign beyond that.
However, though we often end up buying the same items (and I mean the exact same items!) we manage to wear them differently. Little A wears her bright tank tops slouchy and oversized; Baby Bel might wear the same one, fitted and layered; Minxy will wear hers fitted and with jeans; and mine will be fitted and tucked into a colorful skirt. Clothes around this house get as much mileage as I’ve put in on Caribbean Airlines in the last two years.
Sadly, it’s just not the same with shoes. We wear different sizes (ranging from teeny with Minxy to respectable non-Bigfoot with Baby Bel) and have widely different views on which shoes are “comfortable” and which ones pose the risk of a broken ankle or falling into a manhole. Case in point: Little A insisted that I wear a pair of her very high, very strappy, very platformy, very mean-bitch shoes out for dinner a few weeks ago. In the ten minutes that I wore them and contemplated leaving the house in them, I managed to trip down the stairs, drop a contact lens, snag my dress on the shoe, and create scuffmarks on my mother’s kitchen floor. You all know what happened after that: I changed into flats and she rubbed my heel-sporting ineptitude in my face by teetering to and from the restaurant. Oh, the indignity of it all.
So you may be seeing less of my own clothes and more of theirs in the coming days. I’ve got just a few days left here, and I’m planning on squeezing out the very best from their closets. Who knows? Maybe I’ll rock their clothes so well that they’ll feel generous and make a donation to a sister in want. Here’s to hoping!