Thursday, August 16, 2012

Some mornings, while your floating and bobbing around in the tub you tell yourself  'Hurry up Caseley.  You still have to get dressed and (hopefully) brush your hair.' . But instead of listening to that inner dialogue you continue reading Patti Smith's 'Just Kids', because lets face it, what she did in New York in the 60's is infinitely more fascinating than digging through the dirty laundry  closet. And when you eventually manage to put the book down and climb out (wishing while you race by in insufficient toweledge that the front door wasn't wide open, or that at the very least that there weren't two strange men in conversation right outside of it) you are already almost certain to be late.
All will be explained.

This is when the adrenalin kicks in.

Your sensible side says 'Put on the black dress with short puffed sleeves and a belt and go.'.  But the other side, the ...less sensible side(?) says 'Hmmm....let's see...what is at the bottom of the T-shirt drawer? There must be some good stuff down there...'. At this point you have the black dress on and have already tried three belts, but it's just not working.  'Why doesn't this dress work today?' You ask yourself.  But you already know the answer.  You  decided -whilst floating around the circumference of your big pink tub- that today was an arm party kind of day.  So before putting on the easy dress you bangled up the arms.  And then you ringed the fingers.  And now all the bangles and rings are outshining the dress and you just look ridiculous.  And what's a girl to do?    If you remove the bracelets, bangles, and rings the 10 minutes you spent clashing and co-ordinating the right mix of pieces will have been wasted.  And there is no time this morning for wasted moments!!

The dress is off.  We're pretty much starting from scratch here.  Me and the bracelets that is.  The clock is ticking, the baby has just peed on the floor at you feet, and you can not possibly make the walk to work without some music in your ears and where the Hell have the ear buds gone?

And that is how I came to leave the house this morning dressed in a skin tight pencil skirt and obnoxiously printed, polyester, fluorescent pink, tulip shirt.  Arms a bangled, rings a plenty. My 9 year olds back pack on and a satchel that is identical to the one my Mom uses, and lets face it, my Mom is old enough to be my Mom, so you know without even seeing it how awesome the bag is(love you Mommy).  And, because of  'the foot' (you just can't get a foot run over by a car and not have some consequences), an ugly a sensible pair of boots and mismatched socks.
 To all I encountered on the walk to the store this morning, my apologies. And especially to the khaki panted young man eating a sandwich whom I fell into perfect step with for half a block(once I get locked in to those things it's hard to break free)(did I mention I was also eating?)(We were racing!  Racing for the corner!  I was horrified on his behalf). If that damn ear bud hadn't slipped out of my slippery earhole(gross!)I predict we would still be racing through the streets of this town and on and on into the sunset and beyond(or at least to the ocean's edge. That's where I draw the line).
Know what's even more awkward than these pics...

Getting caught by some tourists....

And now I remember why I don't ever use my webcam. It's really crappy. Deal with it.

My bracelets are: two cool resin bangles by Overman, one leather band that was once upon a time meant to be a Christmas present for a friend(yeah, I did it again.  Sorry Kinnie.), and two awesome chunky metal chain things that I took home to 'price'. The rings are a big jumble of stuff including the Alice in Wonderland ring I got for graduating from grade 9(yay me!) and two of the three sterling silver rings that I bought for me with my own money from my first 'real' job when I was 15(and that was probably the last time I had any cash lying around that I could do that sort of thing with).

standing on my desk chair, trying to take these pics.

And the reason for this post?  I think it was intended to be about these shoes:

I designed them on the Converse website, and then when I tried to order them was informed that I can't.  Because I'm in Canada.   So really what I'm trying to say is, Converse, you made me late for work. The black dress, and the arm party, and the custom Chucks would have worked together in a perfectly harmonious cacophony.  The end.

No comments:

Post a Comment