Six days until the trip I’m not even taking anymore, and I’m still standing in my kitchen in a gold denim skirt at nine at night, which tells you exactly where this piece is going. I don’t own beach clothes anymore, I sell them, so my whole closet is just this weird overcorrection into land clothes, and the gold skirt is the one that gets teased every single time I wear it, because apparently I only ever wear it on days I’m doing absolutely nothing. Grocery run. Taking out the trash. Once, memorably, just to sit on my own porch. Somebody at work asked if I own a special occasion for it yet and the honest answer is no, the special occasion is Tuesday.
The gold isn’t the loud metallic gold you’re picturing, thank god, it’s more of a warm mustardy shimmer that only really shows itself in direct sun, which means under office lighting it reads almost khaki, kind of disappointing if I’m being honest, like the skirt is shy indoors. Flash photography is where it actually wakes up. I took one dumb mirror photo with the flash on by accident and the thing looked bronze, almost metallic, way more personality than it has any business having for something I bought to wear with a plain shirt.
Tops took some trial and error.
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A white button down felt like I was cosplaying a realtor. A black bodysuit tucked in was the one that actually worked, simple enough that the skirt got to be the loud part of the outfit instead of competing with something else loud. I tried a busy floral top with it exactly once, has anyone else regretted an outfit before they even left the bedroom, that’s what that was, straight back on the hanger. Tights are their own small drama, sheer black under it in cooler months looks intentional, but a lighter tan tight made the whole thing look vaguely like a costume, and not in a fun way.
I’ll be honest, this is a bit of a gamble pick. On someone with a lot of confidence about color it’s fantastic, on someone still easing back into anything louder than denim blue it might sit in the closet judging you for eight months, which, again, mine did, before the flash photo incident changed my mind.
So four out of five weekends I’m wearing it to do nothing, and the running joke in my group chat is basically “big gold skirt energy for a trip to the mailbox,” and honestly, fine, let them tease me. It’s still the one piece from this whole overcorrected land wardrobe that’s earned an actual reputation.
