You know when you go mooching round shops and you don’t intend to buy anything? Well, I should have stayed at home this morning! I went to Newcastle bright & breezy – the sun was rising over the coast and the mouth of the Tyne as the metro trundled through and the world looked rather beautiful, sparkling as it was under the ice. Town was surprisingly quiet and browsing a little too pleasant – hence I ended up with 2 new frocks, a new black backpack (my old one has genuinely disintegrated with use) and a rather pretty new pair of DMs. The DMs were definitely not on the radar when I left the house! I already have 5 pairs…
Still, the Vena’s fitted like a glove and were splendidly reduced. Frock 1 (berry velvet and black lace) is utterly beautiful. It even makes my backside look good. This never happens! Now designated my new year’s eve frock. Who knew Topshop made frocks this pretty (and also in the sale?!). The irony is I ended up with one from the ‘tall’ range which fits like a glove – I’m guessing it’s supposed to be a mini from the picture below, but on me it sits on the knee.
T’other frock is green lace with a black underskirt, a tad Victorian. This Neo Victorian thing really is – uh, well a thing! I appear to be hoarding high neck, fitted bodice, skater flare skirt dresses with hints of lace. Pretty.
So. I indulged and spent my Christmas money (and then some). Got me to thinking. I have many lovely dresses languishing in closets. Ditto skirts and tops. I always think they’re ‘too good’ for every day wear.
However, I have no regular income. I have another 18 months of so of financial ‘comfort’ before hard decisions have to be made. I’m putting the brakes on spending in 2017. It’s been a bit of a comfort thing this year; it needs to stop. I really do have dresses for every occasion. Most of them even fit me! Berry dress is for wearing out and dressing up. It’s a little too slinky for every day wear! But my high neck, lace, skater-y type dresses? My cute Hellbunny babies? Nope. No reason why I can’t dress with a little sass when I trundle my way to work in the library. In my needful new Docs. It’s too easy to throw on my jeans and a tee.
I have pledged not to buy any – ANY! – clothes for the first six months of 2017. A year felt a little too painful. The husband doesn’t think I’ll last through January – too many charity shops nearby with too many goodies. I think I need to take my bad habits in hand. And wear my gorgeous frocks. If 2016 has proven anything, it’s that life is short. Too short to keep frocks in boxes. And the bloody minded side of me really wants to prove the man wrong! The exemption is hosiery. I wear a LOT of tights! They break. I buy tights the way other ladies buy lipstick – as a pick-me-up.
So, 2017. No alcohol in Dry January (year no 4). No clothes splurging until July. A pledge between Husband Underfoot and myself that this is the year of ‘Just Do It’ (this means I will write a full draft novel about an Incubus and a human doll by April apparently). We hold ourselves back too much, through self doubt, worry, a sense of ennui. Take the late, great Carrie Fisher’s advice:
I will make it too July. I bloody well will! Wearing fancy boots and kicking my own arse in the process…