Outfit for a Wednesday: Linen and a Lone Bird

I have owned this white linen skirt, trimmed very modestly and neatly in a navy ribbon along the waist and the hem, for years, since I worked in retail at Ann Taylor Loft. Although it is a fabulous classic, it is one that I do not wear frequently throughout the season, so, has maintained its integrity in my wardrobe through my years at university and my first forays into the corporate world, aside from a few wrinkles, to be expected with linen and easily ameliorated with my trusted but despised iron. While I am certain I would not want to revert back to retail life, there are definitely aspects of that realm I miss dearly. I worked on my feet, walked, moved, flew about the floor of the store in a frenzy or in slow assured struts. I met new people constantly, a barrage of strangers each day, some wonderful and pleasant, others horrid, others ludicrously amusing. And, of course, I offered sartorial recommendations, gained satisfaction from the simple and anticipated transaction of purchasing of goods, the exchange of wares for money. 

Apparently, I adhere to the axiom that one cannot have too many striped tee shirts in their closet; ever. By the laws and forces of physics, which ultimately inform chemical interactions and the foundations of biologic life, it is impossible. This thinly striped navy and white number was discovered on a sale rack in the men's section of an Urban Outfitters store, a place I generally abhor and avoid, where I sought refuge from the choking swamp air of New Orleans. I had some time to fritter away before meeting up with an old friend of the filmmaker, so, I meandered from air conditioned business to air conditioned business until it was an appropriate hour to begin drinking hurricanes. In hindsight, New Orleans is the type of city where there is really never an inappropriate hour to have a drink, and is also a city where it is accepted and expected that everyone will be dripping with sweat. The width of the stripe and the nonchalant high crew neck of this tee shirt is a more nuanced take on some of my other options. It is also wonderfully soft and comfortable.

A rhinestone bird, perhaps a widow bird or perhaps a young male bird of paradise, caught in mid-flight, was a gift to me from an older great aunt, or perhaps great cousin, or maybe even family acquaintance, who I had the fortune to meet only a handful of times. At a funeral when I was still in high school, transitioning from young girl to woman, she and other distant, foreign relatives admired my love and my eye for costume jewelry. She later sent me a small treasure box of various pieces of jewelry that she had abandoned wearing long ago, but had not yet discarded and forgotten. I had nearly forgotten about this brooch, as I typically do not wear them, unless pairing them with a blazer or thicker jacket. Lately, I have been stringing my brooches through either a long strand of pearls or various chains, to wear as pendants, but until yesterday it had never occurred to me to do the same with this bejeweled beauty. Unfortunately, the bird is a bit heavy and so, as a pendant, tended to flip around and display its backside. Luckily, that is a minor detail and a quick fix.

Migrating birds have been ubiquitous, quite a trend; when tessellating in that quintessential Escher fashion, they can almost resemble a chevron pattern. These patterns resemble these large moving flocks, paragons of organizational behavior, and yet, in many species, the bird is an exemplar of solitude.This necklace is a tribute to the lone bird. 

 
Vintage sunglasses frames always seem like an amazing idea, and in theory indeed they are, though in practice, there is generally something amiss that makes them less than ideal. Literal loose screws make the frames slide down the slope of the nose, or they are ever so slightly askew, giving forth a perpetually tilted and perplexed look to the beholder. These 1960s yellow and clear plastic feline styled frames were a discovery at a small antiques market in the middle of rural Pennsylvania; admittedly, they are a bit loose for my liking, but for under 10$, I cannot complain. Yellow and green and orange are my favorite colors for accessories, as the tend to look strange with my complexion and so are mostly unsuitable fabric color choices. 

These are without a doubt my current favorite pair of shoes; I completely and fully comprehend the frivolity and inane girlishness spewing forth from that statement. My fate as the stereotypical and well-documented Anthropologie girl   is sealed.