I sewed the green skirt, thank christ for that eh. Skirt log!

Sewed it, wore it, photographed it, went home and took it off and hung it up in the wardrobe, now I'm blogging about it, full throttle no holds barred.

you can hardly see the skirt, yes I know

I never get any better at putting in invisible zips and this one was a particular bitch: I machine sewed it in and it wouldn't close, so I unpicked that and handsewed it instead, then it broke while I was pulling it closed, so I pickstitched in a normal dress zip instead - less than ideal visually and I am always afeared that a hand-picked zip will break much easier than one sewn by machine, despite ample evidence to the contrary, even under pressure. And there is quite a bit of pressure on the zip in this skirt because it is so "fitted" that it is quite an interesting exercise to sit down it it and I can only walk up stairs if I think carefully about how it's done. That's alright though because it will loosen up from being worn.

Cool pictorial effects are possible in the ARM Architecture-designed bathroom at work. This photo was inspired by you know who and also the use made of you know who's picture by you know who - the other one - him with the beard.

aaaaaa

BOO

A pity that my photograph is so comparatively boring but believe me, it could very easily have been a great deal boringer. The green of this skirt, the girliness of its shape, and above all the polka-dottedness of it represent a very tentative and exploratory revisiting of how I used to dress myself back in the days before a lot of water went under the bridge. Here is a sample description of how that all used to go down, quoted verbatim from a blog post dated 17 November 2006:

I am wearing a home-made copy of a short-puffy-sleeved girly blouse that I saw for sale in Cue some weeks ago. It is pale olive with pink jasmine printed on it. Under that I am wearing my Achewood Great Outdoor Fight t-shirt. Over both there is a cardigan the colour of melted caramel icecream onto which is pinned a homemade brooch with a cat on it and a 1930s "Wattle Day For Children" badge. 

I am also wearing a homemade brown skirt with lime green and pink checks, mauve tights, and red shoes which could do with a clean. I am also wearing a bit too much makeup.

Won't be going back there (although I still possess, and wear, the t-shirt, and the Wattle Day badge - the latter item is super excellent for trolling certain members of the collections staff at work, who as a rule are of the opinion that objects like that should be in climate-controlled glass boxes) but the colourfulness and the do-not-give-a-shitness,  I think, I want back in my sartorial life. I renounced these things during the saddest part of the unblogged phase, when therapy was a different sort of necessity to what it is now. I was passing Alpha 60 in Flinders Lane one day and in the window I saw the coat and shoes my doctor had been wearing last time I'd seen her. Somehow this discovery transmuted into a conviction that I should dress myself, if not as much like her as possible, at least in a style that she would approve of. Transference made me so pathetic that the nose-phone-controls image really kind of pales into insignificance. So I filled up my wardrobe with garments of the asymmetrical neutrally coloured variety, and I'm only just finding my way out of that condition now. I did tell you there was a lot still to be said about the green skirt, and now I've said it. Good night.