( photo credit: Sandra Juto )
Some days I think I'm a bore. I've been trying for a while now to branch out of my comfort zone into something a less predictable and unfamiliar. I don't usually wear dresses but for some reason, a few months ago I bought a handmade dress that didn't quite turn out to fit me (not that it was the maker's fault, it was advertised as being cut in a 'relaxed fit'). Last winter, I bought a wool dress that ran both wide and short, again, being tailored and marketed as somewhat relaxed. I recently bought an oversized sweater for an insane amount of money because (a) I was misinformed about the sizing and (b) it looked too damn good. It's now languishing in my closet, waiting to be resold.
I'm not sure what my "branching out" constitutes, but I think that the whole oversized, relaxed ideal of style doesn't really work for me even though I want it to. I keep forgetting that I am only 5'1" with ample hips and narrow shoulders and that anything that is wider than short is going to make me look like a runaway cupcake. It's a little depressing sometimes when height and size works against you such that the smallest item from APC runs long and what is sometimes marketed as "fitted" actually becomes boxy against a backdrop of a non-existent chest.
I have gotten into the habit of shrinking my clothes in the washer and dryer whenever I can - I have an Alexander Wang jacket that ran big in the bust, so I threw it into dryer and now it looks like an outfit for juggling midgets. Alas, many articles of clothing I own are slightly less robust now than when I first got it, after a 40 minute stint in the mighty Whirlpool home shrinking contraption. I know I should start investing in a tailor, but a good one is hard to come by and the good ones would most certainly mean that I'm paying twice as much for an item of clothing. If I'm already paying an amount that would feed a small country, I don't know if I want to indulge in a tailor. Off the rack should mean exactly that, right? Off. The. Effin'. Rack!
I've come to the realization that the things that work for me - jeans, button downs, tee shirt and sweaters may be ubiquitously boring, but maybe I should learn from my mistakes and avoid spending copious amounts on something that I can never quite pull off and embrace the fact that I will never be able to look like a slouchy gamine (genetics, I blame genetics!) or a Zooey Deschanel wannabe. And I guess in retrospect, it doesn't seem like such a bad thing after all.