Monday, April 1, 2013

Polka Dot Petticoat

Layering a sweater with a blouse, or blouse with a blazer, is a fairly banal affair, though effective; layering a skirt with a wrap dress requires a bit more innovation and technical skill for a proper execution, as well as more daring. This silk cream and black polka dot skirt is fun and carefree, but dangles awkwardly, lackadaisically below the knee. Underneath this plain black cotton wrap dress, I was able to wear the skirt higher on my waist, tenuously fastened or at least held steady by the taut wrap. A few inches of patterned fringe beneath the dress created a soft volume and movement to a staid staple.

To accompany my pioneer frontier meets modern metropolitan look of possibly dubious layers, my favorite golden tumbleweed earrings, from Paris. I can hardly believe that it has been an entire year since I was there, Paris in April, a Paris gray and large and constantly unfolding in nuances and intricacies. Isolated among throngs of strangers, I felt a peace and a fury of kinetic tension while there, a sort of nervous energy that, for me, comes with exploring a new city alone, sometimes uncertain of how the sights, sounds, tastes will interact with me. With no expectation, or obligation, with friends or acquaintances, with any other soul, traveling alone is a sort of release and a relief, but also a time when corners of self arise and demand to be confronted, those parts that can be suppressed or ignored when properly distracted with typical, mundane work and play. Amidst my poetry and my paperbacks of Henry Miller and Gaston Bachelard, I was forced to spend time with solely myself. April in Paris.

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