Folk Tale

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This Free People black dress that I purchased last summer continues to be one of my favorite pieces in my closet. I previously wore it with sandals, but I wanted to try belting it with tights and boots for this season. The dress I am wearing is sold out, but I adore the look of this dress in white. It has a similar easy vibe.

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I love the longer back. I sometimes hate the new high-low trend, but it works with my lifestyle.

My lifestyle being that of a klutz. I am always dropping things and having to bend over and get them.

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Case in point, the other day I was wearing my denim shirt “dress.” Thankfully with tights. I was in the grocery store. I had gone inside for two things and as I was walking to the register, I somehow managed to pick up ten items. I had them precariously balanced in my arms.

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I probably would have made it to the register without a mishap, had I not at that moment noticed my children’s kindergarten teacher with her husband in another aisle.

We locked eyes and as I went to wave, I proceeded to drop all of my items on the floor. Three times! Over and over, I bent over and picked up cans and packages of cheese and chips.

It was mortifying.

I am sure the people behind me probably thought it was even more so.

I really could have used a high-low dress that day. Who am I kidding? I could use a high-low dress everyday.

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Let’s move along from my mortification. I purchased this vintage folk belt from Modcloth last year (previously worn here). I love it so much. I keep it on my dresser instead of with my other belts because I am scared of it breaking.

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I took these pictures on my dad’s property. I think I only explored this road once as a child. I was not very adventurous. Besides, the possibility of rattlesnakes curbed my desire to walk around.

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Did you explore your neighborhood growing up? Or were you exploring worlds in books like I was? And when am I going to learn that I always need a grocery cart, even when I am “just running in”?

Shifts In A Denim Shift

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I started out wearing this little denim dress from Urban Outfitters (sold out. But Old Navy currently has a cute denim dress also available in plus size). With boots. And I asked my husband if he could take pictures of it.

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And he looked at the dress and said, “Whoa! That is short!”

But I didn’t believe him.

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And then I looked at these pictures while we were out taking the pictures and I had to agree. But I still thought maybe it was the heels and not the dress. Because I had kind of all ready worn this dress around town that day and I really could not bear to think of how many people saw me sans pants. I stubbornly stuck with, “It is a dress and it is long enough.” As all sixteen thirty seven year olds do.

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So I changed to flats.

It’s called denial.

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And it is my speciality.

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It was how I originally wanted to wear the dress any way. And I did. For approximately five seconds.

Before I took a peek at these pictures and decided it was not the heels.

It was not the flats.

It was the dress.

And it was a shirt.

I hate when that happens.

Although, I cannot wait to layer it over another dress like Atlantic Pacific did here.

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I put on some tights that I had in my car.

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What? You don’t carry tights in your car? What about spare deodorant? Extra underwear? Straws? Salt?

A girl has always gots to be prepared.

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I do admit, I felt more comfortable in the tights.

Just don’t tell my husband.

He’ll never let me live it down.

He is all ready teasing me about always being pantless.

There will be no living with him if he learns that I agree with him.

Have you ever been in denial about an outfit? Left the house in an indecent state? I am afraid that I can answer “yes” to both of those questions too often. I need to shift that. Top the next outfit. Ad-dress the issue and move on. For not once, but twice, in school, I left the changing room for p.e. without pants on. If I could get through it in junior high school, I can do it now. It is amazing how things can change and yet always stay the same.

Monarch Magic Metamorphosis

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First, I know this pattern resembles a Tiger Butterfly more than a Monarch. I must have been a little loopy when I first typed this up, because here I am now editing it before it goes up in a few hours and I am wondering what I was thinking with the title. Who can really say?

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I have found in the last year that a swing style dress is my favorite.

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The Sarita Swing Dress is beautiful. I do wish it was one inch longer but otherwise it is perfect. It is made from silk which is a rare thing to find nowadays. My grandma used to keep silk worms in her house so we could watch how they worked. She also would occasionally raise a butterfly through the stages. Green and yellow were her favorite colors. She would have loved this dress.

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I paired the dress with my Simply Livly Turquoise Necklace and a wooden turquoise ring. I also wore my favorite Chie Mihara booties with it. They were one of my favorite sale scores last year. Her shoes are amazing.

I think that every girl dreams of a fantasy world. It is kind of what is thrown on us as children. Castles, princesses, animals, pink and flowers. Butterflies fall right into this.

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Now, I do not know for certain that this dress is based on a butterfly. It seems obvious to me that it is. But I also frequently mix up the words, “prescription and subscription” so I am absolutely no good mental evaluator.

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I looked up the name of the dress, “Sarita.” It means “flowing” in Sanskrit according to the website, behind the name. It is subtle. But, oh, the missed name opportunities this dress had.

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It has the most lovely crochet lace edged lining. The dress is short, but in all of my pictures (including spinning), I did not encounter one wardrobe snafu.

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It is perfect for a windy day. The sleeves flutter magnificently. I honestly felt like a butterfly in this dress. Groan. I can imagine someone quoting that and I realize how lame that sounds, but it is true.

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This dress might not have the right name, but it does not matter.

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It simply made me happy. When I wore it I smiled. It felt like a metamorphosis was taking place. And that is all that matters to me.

Not Feeling It

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I wore this all day. I was having a really hard time getting the gumption up to put an outfit together. Thankfully, this Free People jersey dress is pretty much like wearing pajamas. And I would have worn them as such if I had not borrowed my son’s deodorant that day (without his knowledge) and been knocked over by the smell of Old Spice. How do men do it? The aroma of the men’s deodorant clung to my dress and I could not sleep in it. I am used to baby powder. By the way, who decides that baby powder scent is for girls and mountain air is for boys? I was explaining my dilemma to my husband while I whined in bed and he looked around for an escape route.

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“What happened to your deodorant?” He asked like a grown up.

“I don’t know. It was just gone.”

He got up and went in to the bathroom. I watched him with a faint amount of interest.

“You mean this deodorant?” He asked as he held up my little blue container that had been sitting in direct line of sight in the middle of the counter.

“Wow! I don’t know how that got there!” Then I erupted into a cackle of lunar laughter that made my husband reevaluate the exits in our house again.

My point?

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Um, yea, sure… I had one.

Okay. I got it!

Don’t use your son’s deodorant.

And also, I’m pretty sure my deodorant is possessed.

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That day was hard. Deodorant issues aside.

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I felt as though all of my imagination was sucked dry. Maybe the deodorant worked too well.

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I just threw this dress on with some black tights and my newest popback score, these Freebird Boots I snagged for 85% off at Anthropologie. It was kind of amazing how just wearing something I liked made me feel a little better.

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I wanted to pair this dress with my striped blazer from last year. I would have loved to show it with some light colored denim skinny jeans. To me, that would have been perfect. But instead I kept the tights on. Maybe you can imagine I am wearing skinny jeans. And while you’re at it, maybe you could put me in my deodorant and not an eleven year old boy’s.

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I hope your imagination is better than mine.

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Have you ever lacked the incentive to get dressed? Have you ever used someone else’s deodorant? Do you know what kind of exorcism I could perform on mine? I think I saw it move again. It’s either that or my imagination might be coming back. I am quite sure it is the former. Which really just proves the latter.

Oi. I need to do something about these fumes.