Burgundy Dress Footwear: Heels, Boots and Flats
I did the math the other night, out of pure curiosity, and then immediately regretted it. Eleven. I own eleven burgundy dresses. Not maroon, not oxblood, not that murky wine…
I did the math the other night, out of pure curiosity, and then immediately regretted it. Eleven. I own eleven burgundy dresses. Not maroon, not oxblood, not that murky wine…
I was standing in front of the closet at six forty in the morning, one sock on, coffee going cold on the dresser, holding two shirts up against a navy…
I was standing at the ironing board on a Tuesday night, working through a basket of clothes that had been sitting there since Thursday, when I noticed something that stopped…
My sister took one look at me walking into her kitchen last Thanksgiving, wearing charcoal gray chinos with a rust colored flannel and white sneakers, and said, “Okay, when did…
My brother in law took one look at me walking into his kitchen last Thanksgiving and said, “Since when do you own actual clothes?” I was wearing olive chinos, a…
I want to tell you about the time I wore olive green pants and a red top to a Tuesday morning staff meeting because I genuinely thought I was being…
I own eleven denim jackets. Eleven. I counted them properly last month while doing a closet cull that was supposed to result in bags for donation, and instead resulted in…
Someone in my office, a woman two desks over who wears exclusively black and grey and has never once complimented my clothes, called loafers “the sensible aunt of shoes.” I…
I own eleven satin midi skirts. Eleven. I counted them last Sunday while doing a closet purge that was supposed to result in donations and instead resulted in me lying…
I counted my wide leg pants back in October, which is a very specific and slightly alarming thing to do on a Tuesday night, and the number was eleven. Eleven…