I went shopping in Nashville last weekend – hell bent upon updating my dreary wardrobe. I shopped til I dropped, and the entire day netted me nothing more than a new tube of lipstick – hot pink of course.
(My girl friends have been trying to wean me off my “Powder Pink” for years, but to no avail.)
Blouses that make you look pregnant are still hanging around. When, oh when, will those things fall out of favor? Nothing looks more ridiculous than a 50 something granny all decked out in a maternity suit.
What’s the point of losing the winter weight if we’re going to loll about in poofy shirts in chartreuse and tan? The new spring colors made me look like I died two weeks ago.
And shoes – don’t get me started. Do women really want to stomp around looking like a gladiator or Daniel on his way to the lion’s den?
So I came home and pulled out my favorite cardigan from 1997, ditto for my black capris which have been washed so often, they are a muddy shade of gray.