If the eight-hour drive from New York to Charlottesville taught me anything, it's that Maroon 5 is, surprisingly, more popular than Taylor Swift. I also learned that I do a mean impression of Harry Styles, as long as you've no idea who Harry Styles is or where he's from or what he does.
The trip home was a surprise for my parents. They're hard to shop for, my father ritualistically intoning we children "save our money", my mother inclined to sate most of her earthly needs on her own dime and schedule (like mother like son.) I still bring up the sage green pashmina I gave her years ago from time to time in an attempt to make a point about how impeccable my taste was in college and how if only she'd appreciated it more—texted me photos of herself draped in it while reading The Hunger Games, a smile and knowing look on her face—she could've upgraded to cashmere sweater sets by now.
But I thought it'd be nice if I showed up on their porch. It's the least I could do, right? And so there I was, the night before Thanksgiving, asking them to graciously order in a meat lover's pizza so there'd be something substantial over which we could bitch about American exceptionalism and binge watch the entire first season of Broad City (mother walked out). I also hijacked one of their cars and went ~*sHopPiNg*~.
I bought some art and a few curios from local favorites, plus a new hat that got me compared to Indiana Jones within an hour of its inaugural wearing. Score! I also played dress up in my mom's "future fit" (as in, it'll fit again, in the future) clothing, which she's taken to storing in my old bedroom closet. But, you guys, look how cute this outfit is:
Pretty legit, right? The look is "goth librarian" (always a good look) and I achieved it using a Weekenders skirt, J.Jill blouse and a Banana Republic sweater. Literally all you need to look like a boss is one pair of dominatrix-y leather zip boots.
Shout out to my moms for not balking when her closer-to-30-than-not son came down in her clothes like, "Now I'm going to stand in your foyer and pose and you're going to take pictures and then I'm going to post it all to Facebook," and acting like that's par for the course.
The trip home was a surprise for my parents. They're hard to shop for, my father ritualistically intoning we children "save our money", my mother inclined to sate most of her earthly needs on her own dime and schedule (like mother like son.) I still bring up the sage green pashmina I gave her years ago from time to time in an attempt to make a point about how impeccable my taste was in college and how if only she'd appreciated it more—texted me photos of herself draped in it while reading The Hunger Games, a smile and knowing look on her face—she could've upgraded to cashmere sweater sets by now.
But I thought it'd be nice if I showed up on their porch. It's the least I could do, right? And so there I was, the night before Thanksgiving, asking them to graciously order in a meat lover's pizza so there'd be something substantial over which we could bitch about American exceptionalism and binge watch the entire first season of Broad City (mother walked out). I also hijacked one of their cars and went ~*sHopPiNg*~.
I bought some art and a few curios from local favorites, plus a new hat that got me compared to Indiana Jones within an hour of its inaugural wearing. Score! I also played dress up in my mom's "future fit" (as in, it'll fit again, in the future) clothing, which she's taken to storing in my old bedroom closet. But, you guys, look how cute this outfit is:
Pretty legit, right? The look is "goth librarian" (always a good look) and I achieved it using a Weekenders skirt, J.Jill blouse and a Banana Republic sweater. Literally all you need to look like a boss is one pair of dominatrix-y leather zip boots.
Shout out to my moms for not balking when her closer-to-30-than-not son came down in her clothes like, "Now I'm going to stand in your foyer and pose and you're going to take pictures and then I'm going to post it all to Facebook," and acting like that's par for the course.
0 comments:
Post a Comment