Most of the garments in this outfit were thrifted at one point or another but what I'm grooving on the most today are these green suede shoes:
I found these perfect, unworn, mint colored suede maryjanes at the thrift store last Thursday. They were five dollars. I'm telling you this because I assume that you're like me, and therefore, get a kick out of knowing such things. I have a terrible soft spot for colored shoes. Normally I'm not a huge lover of suede because I'm awfully hard on shoes, but for five bucks, even if I end up tramping through a puddle in them next week, I won't be too distraught over their demise.
I'm just tickled by the fact that they are Hush Puppies. They are comfortable, which is a quality I would normally associate with the Hush Puppies brand. But funky lime green suede, Turkish style turned up toes, and Euro-chic exposed edge-stitching? These are not the Hush Puppies I remember. These struck me as more 'Anthropologie' than orthopedic. I was inspired to search the whole Hush Puppies website but found only one pair of boots that peaked my interest even remotely (and on my current ten dollar a week wardrobe budget I couldn't afford two hundred and forty five dollar boots until the middle of July.)
Chris hates these shoes. He's never been a fan of pointy toes. But his seventeen year old niece thought they were very cool when I wore them this weekend. I'm inclined to think that a seventeen year old girl might be a better judge of cool shoes than Chris, who will not stop wearing the puffy white athletic shoes I cannot stand, in spite of the fact that we have purchased several alternatives of which I approve: low top Chuck Taylors, Vans slip-ons, loafers, and most recently, black and grey high-tech hiking boots. Whoops. That was a bit of a rant. Anyway, what it boils down to is that around here everyone's entitled to their ugly shoes- they just have to take a bit of ribbing from their significant other.
I'm pretty sure the cardigan came from the same Chicago thrift store as this dress at about the same time. It's been with me since the beginning of the nineties although I recently upgraded the buttons and stitched few extra decorations on top of the embroidery where the original plastic pearls had fallen off. The stretchy trouser jeans were acquired in the same trip as the green shoes (along with a brown herringbone tweed skirt which is currently spending some time in the freezer to ward off moths.) The slant pockets on these pants pull open a little across my hips even though the pants themselves seem to be big enough for me so I'm planning to stitch the pockets closed before I wear them again. I am so not one of those bloggers who loves to have pockets in everything. I could happily do completely without pockets in everything I own. I don't put stuff in them- it looks lumpy so I keep my stuff in my purse. I try not to put my hands in them- because my momma raised me right. And pockets can so often go awry, pulling awkwardly or creating bulk that I just don't need. The back pocket flaps on these jeans are getting stitched down too, while I'm at it, because they have a tendency to flip up.
Because as soon as I finish this post I'm going to knuckle down and work on my thesis for a while (five pages every day is my goal from here on out) I'm wearing my new reading glasses. I'm crazy for the color of these frames. When I have health insurance I always try to get a new pair of readers every year, even though I now own six pairs with practically the same prescription, and that prescription is less of a correction than what you commonly find in the reading glasses that you can pick up at the drugstore. I don't really need these glasses but I love them. Chris thinks this is a bit crazy. He has worn glasses since he was a kid and is going to finally get Lasik surgery next month. I will miss his glasses a little but I know that it will be much more convenient for him not to need his glasses.
The faded black cotton beret is an essential writing tool. Not because I need to look like a beatnik poet or anything. I wish it was something that silly. It's because, as a result of the stress I feel in grad school, I've developed a rather compulsive habit of scratching my head while I'm reading or thinking or writing. Scratching it to the point that I start to develop sore spots on my scalp. The beret helps to prevent me from tearing myself to pieces while I work. Sad but true. Of course, I kind of enjoy looking like a beatnik poet too.