Over the weekend I was tucking things away and taking things out (I'm getting ready to go to Vogue Knitting Live in NYC this weekend) and I was desperately looking for something fabulous to wear, and I took this great skirt that I knitted out of my drawer- and realized that I'd never blogged it. I knitted it (blog entry here) and had Tina take some pictures of it at last year's Madrona when I was wearing the daylights out of it. It's Ruth Sørensen's Claudia Skirt (Ravelry Link) and while hers was knit out of Evilla yarn, I wrangled mine out of three skeins of Kauni - knitting the three skeins at once, cutting and choosing the colours so I could have one sequence of black to pale grey over the whole thing.
Here I am, wearing the skirt last February, and demonstrating my impeccable fashion style-or lack thereof, depending on your perspective. Now, I look at that and think I'm not doing too badly, and I am rather charmed that I have thought of a way to have a blog entry even though I don't have anything new to show you really, and I also think of a great truth. Somewhere, right now, my mum is looking at this picture and thinking several things. 1. RED SOCKS? 2. THOSE DAMN BLUNDSTONE BOOTS AGAIN? and finally 3. I HOPE YOU ARE WEARING A SLIP. Undoubtedly, she is also thinking that the skirt is the wrong length. There are skirt length rules that my mother has tried to explain to me several times, and I remain oblivious. I just know that my skirt is always the wrong length. (Usually she tries to tell me my skirts are too long, but I wonder if the fact that I knit this skirt might have rescued me. I wear the others too long because I'm short and too lazy to hem, but this time the laziness might have paid off. I think I quit knitting before it was too long.) My mum will also wonder why I have two purses. (To be clear, I don't have two purses, I have two Tom Bihn knitting bags- although I have a feeling she won't see that as much more stylish.)
I have no defense for the Blunnies and the red socks. Somehow that morning I thought it just looked really put together. (I still do.) I have very little fashion sense, and what little I do have is moderated entirely by wanting to be comfortable. This is poorly understood by my Mum, who always looks fabulous (and never wears Blundstones) frequently reminds me that a little pain for beauty isn't always a bad idea, a concept that's poorly understood by me. The only thing I have to make her feel better about this failing on my part is that I am indeed,
wearing a slip.