I'm currently working my way through the book _It's So You_ by Mary Sheehan Warren.
Oooof. I shed many a tear today. The book is about helping yourself develop a nice wardrobe that reflects your style, personality, etc.
Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a really really REALLY bad dresser. Really. I'm not just saying that.
I was half way afraid that I would take some quiz and that the test result would read as follows:
You are a hopeless frump. In order to best express this fashion style, you must always wear lumpy old cardigans in unflattering colors, birkenstock sandals, tunic tops and vast floral skirts.
Oh wait, that's pretty much how I dress. Lately I've flattered myself to be improving, so I've been buying long sleeved t-shirts in skirt-coordinating colors to update my look a bit. Oh yeah, THAT was a brilliant move, let me tell ya! Turns out those tops were shaped all wrong for my "body type".
There are four different body types, I learned today. So that I won't steal the author's unique insights into human physique, and how best to dress the various types (and she did have good advice) I will modify them a bit, to help you, the blog reader understand the emotional impact it might have on one, to be labeled as one of the various body types.
Type 1 (the most common body type) would be the fruity fertility godess with baby-making hips. All positive. Sounds good to me. I consider this particular shape to the the most beautifully feminine in a classic sense. Alas, I do not possess it.
Type 2(The standard of the fashion industry) is the ancient-time-piece body type. Charaterized by balance and the much desired small waist. Again, not me.
Type 3 (sort of an up-side down pear) would be the...ahem..."valentine" shape. Awwwwwwwww, love! What can be so bad about that? Hmmmm? I was hoping.
But no. Alas, when I took my measurments, I learned that I am Type 4: Something square-ish, that the postman or the UPS guy would deliver. As in "get rid of"..."pass along to someone else". As in "collapse this discardable piece of packaging so that it can be put in the recycling bin". Yes, it was "the box." And losing weight won't change that. I'll just be a smaller box.
And that was before I even got the the bra section. She wrote that a bra couldn't possibly last longer than two years. Two years! I'm doing well to get six months of effectiveness out of a bra, and if, as the author says, bras should not drag or pull...HA HA HA!
So, a few more tears.
I kept reading.
Then it was time to actually start going through my closet.
Oh, I forgot to mention: At one point it said that nothing could be done unless the reader was in possession of a non-warped full length mirror. I didn't own one. Not even a warped one. So I went to the store. The kids needed more milk anyways. Discovered how much I hate activities involving mounting hardware (with missing screws) and tools.
So the new mirror is hung. Oh, was that ever an eye-opening experience! All those "cute little t-shirts" were not so cute after all. Turns out the flowy tunic tops were better, after all, except that too many of them are in the wrong colors!!!!
What ever shall I do????? (rhetorical question for you-the-blog-reader's amusement).
So, I'm exhausted now. And I have nothing to wear.
Helpful book. At least I know what my fashion type is. Sigh. It starts with the same letter as "ridiculous". And can best be summed up as: long flowy skirts, tunic tops and birkenstock sandals.