Tuesday, September 27, 2011

meet me at the fair.

It wasn't a typically State Fair day. A day you usually imagine to have blue skies and warm sunshine was gray. It was the first chill since our summer of 100's and, in preparation, I had dressed with care. My high fringed boots {faux suede that would not be destroyed by the sporadic drizzles}, a wool pleated vintage skirt, and a jean shirt. Around my waist, a dusty pink belt and slug across my shoulder, a soft pink, flower bloom purse. The pops of pink, like cotton candy, seemed necessary for a fair.

Before walking out the door, my logical husband gave me the once over. "You look very pretty, but you might want a jacket," he stated with wisdom behind his words. I grumbled, of course... know it all. I walked out the door to be greeted by a quick gust of icy wind. Well maybe I'll just bring a jean jacket {actually, that might be cute with this}.

As we arrived at our destination, I studied the sweatshirt and parka layered fair goers from the car window. My jean jacket and the last minute grab of a wool sweater were crumpled in my lap. Needless to say, I wore them both.

Although my oh so carefully planned ensemble was a bust, the fair was a delight. And, it turns out, when the temperature is cooler my ability to consume large amounts of greasy, fattening, fried goodness is enhanced. A happy {and yet slightly disturbing} discovery.

No comments:

Post a Comment