Style, but Absolutely No Grace

So, I decided to start putting more effort into what I wear. I’ve always sucked at shopping, loathed ironing and shied away from sticking out. I like weird stuff, but I don’t know what to do with it. Well, I’m just saying to hell with it, and wearing whatever I think looks good. I doubt I’ll get too outrageous, I’ve just never been the sort, but I’m tired of playing it soooo safe.

I love what so many of the lovely ladies who contribute to the wardrobe_remix on Flickr wear. I get some great inspiration from those fashionable little hotties. So, I decided to join up. I won’t post to it every day, to be sure, since my solid t-shirt and jeans with chucks will still come back to haunt me on a regular basis, but I’m going to put a little effort forth. Might as well share. [My first submission is really, really dark. I’ll figure out the lighting thing eventually.]

So, this morning I got up and plugged in the hot rollers. I laugh every time I use them, because that is such a below the Mason-Dixon type of thing to do, but I have hair curlier than the giant waves those rollers give me. I use those, and it actually straightens my hair, comparatively. Way easier than blowing it out. Anyway, I did my hair and put on a favorite swirly skirt and some new wedges I got at the Rivergate Target. I was bloated, but looking good. Feeling fine. I snapped a pic or twelve, grabbed my purse, flounced my hair then walked out the front door only to fall down the stairs. My swirly skirt went flying, as did my file full of one-pagers and best practices. Miraculously, nothing was broken or bleeding, and I was able to gather myself rather quickly. Since I wasn’t in pain I was able to laugh and remember why I wore those Converse lace-ups all the time in the first place.