Tag Archives: style

Taking It To The People

10 Jun

Have I mentioned I hate summer? I mean recently. I believe you can find previous mentions here, here, and here. One of the many things I hate about summer is shorts. I know I do not have to wear them, but sometimes they are the only thing that will do. Since the three pairs I had were either falling off me, falling apart, had paint all over them, or a combination platter thereof, I made the ultimate sacrifice. I went OUT and bought some shorts.

Now. Shorts are funny things. Especially for someone whose legs look like giant stalks of white asparagus. Or like tree trunks with the bark ripped off. And because I am not a size 4, my choices are limited. I can wear what are actually pedal pushers or possibly clam-diggers. Because that’s such a flattering look on a girl. I can wear these canvas things with drawstring waists or a lovely seersucker madras plaid. A jaunty knee length denim number would be awesome if it were 1984 and someone else were dressing me because I’d taken leave of my senses. I did finally manage to find a pair of booty shorts. NOT a good look for most people, but I did happen to notice they had tabs and could be rolled down to cover my business. Sold.

These shorts have three buttons at the waist, then the waistband morphs into something I thought would be super comfortable. It’s an elastic band about the width of my thumb and covered in soft cotton knit. The legs say I’m a hottie, the waistband says I’ve given up. The thing is that the elastic is not tacked anywhere but to the front button placket.  So it squirms. It twists. Trying to get the waistband straightened out is like trying to get a cranky infant into one of those long onsie things with feet that have the snaps at the diaper so you have to put the damn thing over the baby’s head. And the baby has a stomach ache AND an ear ache and is all squirmy and sweaty and screaming. That’s what getting into these shorts is like.

Other than that, I love them.

Yesterday I tacked the elastic to the knit band in a couple of places, and that has helped. I don’t know about you, but I read user reviews before I buy something online. I’ve learned which ones to ignore (those with neither punctuation nor capitalization) and which ones to take to heart (those in which the reviewer has actually used the product are helpful). I sat down to compose a helpful review. Here it is:

Title: Designed by Satan

Review: I never believed in Satan until I wore these shorts, but that is clearly who designed them. Because the elastic is not attached to the knit waistband, you must spend five minutes (I timed it) working the kinks out of the elastic. Once you have done this, you must carefully arrange the shorts on the floor and stage a sneak attack to put them on. You must put them on gently lest they realize what’s happening and start twisting around and laughing manically.

In short, these shorts rebel like a 14 year old.

Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, I like the style. The length is short, and I do not use the tab function to roll them up because I don’t like to have to have a special hair removal session just to run out for milk. They aren’t actually pedal pushers which I did not want. And that’s why I’m keeping them. The size is true. The khaki color has a lot of red in it, fyi.  Tacking the elastic to the waist has helped, so if you have needle and thread you can enjoy poking them into submission.

I thought that was a helpful review. Target did not. It would not let me publish it. The unhelpful site would not actually say WHY, but I removed references to Satan, teenagers, and infants and it seemed to take. It is now titled “Waistband of Doom”. You can’t read it online because Target hasn’t published it. But as much as I love Target, the website sucks (insert joke about 1997 calling for its website) so I’m not terribly surprised or upset my honest and helpful review was not published. Target also did not respond to my tweet where I name-checked them, but to be fair, I once tried to compliment the management staff of a store and there was nowhere on the website to do so nor did they respond to that tweet.

Just know if you’re going to buy a pair of Pure Energy shorts with a knit band, you’re going to want to refill your Valium. But I found the fit to be true-to-size bordering on generous and I really like the polished cotton material.


Wardrobe Malfunctions

10 Apr

I recently uttered a sentence I never, never, never thought I would say: I need a sewing machine. I don’t quilt, crochet, or knit. I tried rug hooking once, but couldn’t get the hook dislodged from the wall after I threw it. I have, it is true, been known to cross stitch, but not with any real skill. Although I did cross stitch a bird silhouette with the motto “Tweet Deez” for a friend, and it turned out nicely. But there’s no door between my kitchen and dining room. So you see the need.

There are a few things believe to be true about a house. One is that I find it barbaric to have a bathroom directly off a bedroom. The other is that one should not have to look at how the sausage got made when one sits down to eat said sausage. At some point in my home’s history the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room was taken off. I can see some conflict with where the door probably rested when opened. It’s not a large dining room. You’d have to be careful not to pop a guest in the back when coming through the door. It is my desire to keep from unintentionally smacking a guest in the gourd with a swing door that has lead me to decide a curtain might be a better option. This will need to be sewn. Also, I change out pillows and seat cushions roughly every other month. It gets tiresome hand-sewing pillow covers. And? The only good part of that movie with Kirsten Dunst and Ryan Gosling where he plays the creepy guy who dresses as a woman at some point and probably killed Kirsten Dunst and chopped her into a million pieces is this one dress she wears. It’s just a little ‘70’s style shift made of cotton lawn. I think I could make it. And I will keep thinking that until proven wrong, which will probably be three hours after having purchased fabric to make the dress.

Due to the profound kindness of a few family members, I have a new-to-me sewing machine. It has lots of pieces. I don’t know what any of them do yet. Well, I can figure out what the buttonholer attachment does, but making something with buttonholes is about as much an option as squeezing some Kingsford to make me a diamond ring.

The other hand-me-down I ended up with is a pair of leather New Balance walking shoes. I KNOW! From a distance they look like regular trainers.They fit me perfectly. If you’ve ever seen my feet you understand what a miracle of sport shoe engineering this is. They make my feet feel like fluffy bunnies are mating on cotton candy clouds. They are awesome, and I will never disparage ugly walking shoes again.

The other day I had some stuff to do around the house, and that usually involves paint. As a preemptive measure I’d put on one of my designated painting shirts. Truth? Most of my shirts are designated painting shirts. I can get paint on a shirt just looking at paint chips. It’s a disease. Same with food. I used to think my friends were psychic when they could tell me what I had for lunch. This particular paint shirt is a men’s big-n-tall denim special I got sometime during the Clinton administration. I had to make groceries so I threw on my swanky new walking shoes, buttoned up my denim shirt, and got in the station wagon full of a sewing machine and its table that hadn’t made their way inside yet. I looked like I was on my way to pick up my sister wife.

Normally when I’ve got on my paint-splattered clothing, I fool myself into thinking I look artsy. I get out of my funky little retro-styled wagon, bebop around with a bag my husband got me from Ten Thousand Villages, and think, “I’m an artiste! I don’t look like a middle aged woman who’s off her meds! I look ARTSY!!” I find if I think to myself in exclamation points, it helps keep me delusional. This time all my look said was, “Yes, checkout person, I have a binder full of coupons that will force you to ring up my basket of groceries in FOUR separate transactions! And while we’re talking, don’t you think that Redbook cover is a little racy for the checkout aisle?”

When I was little I used to put pantyhose on my head to make long hair. I think my adult version of that is pretending my paint-splattered wardrobe is artsy rather than pathetic. I have come to peace with that. Also? I ROCK those walking shoes.