I bought this super cute pink-and-red-and-gray-and-black cameo-pattern skirt the other day at Recycle Boutique for like sixteen dollars and then on Saturday, after a strange series of events, I bought these super-awesome knee-high boots, which has sort of been this everlasting quest of mine for longer than I care to contemplate. Anyway over the past long weekend I planned out a series of outfits around these boots, and today’s, by happy chance, involved the new-to-me skirt that I mentioned up there in the first sentence.
It also involved some patterned tights that I haven’t worn since last winter probably—it’s been freakishly warm this autumn in Wellington and we’re properly into winter now and all I have on the bed are the flannel sheets and the duvet, no hot water bottles and no heaters—and they had a hole in the butt. This happens a lot to me—I have quite a big bottom and it often compromises my tights’ structural integrity. I don’t let it bother me, though; no, I just smile and put them on anyway and reason that you can’t actually see the holes when I’m wearing clothes on top of the tights, so, like, it’s fine.
So I zipped up my boots and straightened my skirt and gave myself a saucy wink on my way out the door this morning, thinking that I sure looked like a cute little something. After some unlooked-for bus drama regarding my Snapper card I went to work and had meetings and ate lunch and checked email, all the time thinking: hmmmm, that hole in the butt of my tights is getting bigger! I didn’t want to bother unzipping my new boots (on which I got many compliments, thanks for asking, and also on my skirt which everyone loves and which I love too) so I didn’t take them off and turn them around or anything, I just let my bottom poke through and went about my business.
After work things got a little complicated because all of a sudden I had to go to Snapper headquarters and sort out some sort of problem with my card and that took forever and then I had to run over to a photo processing place to get some passport pictures taken because guess what, I’m eligible for a permanent residency visa now, but I have to get it within ten days otherwise when I go to Melbourne in a couple of weekends I won’t be able to come back—awkward!–which means going to Immigration early tomorrow morning so I can be first in the queue. So I got some very unflattering and expensive pictures taken of me and then I went to Rachel’s work and then we went to her temple to celebrate Shavu’ot where I tried to follow along with the transliterated Hebrew and also ate several blintzes, and where the rabbi said “Your first time in a synagogue and you’re already in the kitchen!” as I was helping Rach with the dishes. We walked home and the tights had pretty much turned into assless chaps when I finally took them off after some light Facebooking, but it was still an excellent outfit and I plan to put it into this winter’s heavy rotation of outfits.
I’m in bed now, between my flannel sheets. I am still super super super super sore from the circus class I took on Saturday, as in my armpits are sore. I’ve been so busy the last week, now that I’m sort of basically not sick anymore, going to parties and dinners and drinks and also with scrubbing the mud off these crazy wooden beams in the basement of Giulia’s new house in Kilbirnie that I haven’t cooked for days and there’s no food in the house except frozen ravioli; I ate the last of my kilo container of hummus for lunch today. I’m wearing my new boots again tomorrow (over jeans) and, I hope, getting a new hundred-and-sixty-dollar sticker in my passport. My newly dyed hair—did I tell you I dyed my hair for the first time ever in my life over the long weekend, just to cover the grays?—is looking slightly less like a dead wig, I think.
And there you have it, that was my Tuesday.