Well, I'm spending a fair amount of energy relaxing today. This morning, I busied myself playing with my harp and my dog until it got too hot to think. Then it was off to the local coffee house and my favorite fainting couch there. I've been reading Tenant of Wildfell Hall lately, and it's getting to the part where I fear Helen may marry unwisely. I nibble my nails in worry. Nothing like tea, chocolate and a good 19th century romance. 4laugh Then it was a completely non-nutritious slice of pizza the size of my head for lunch. I'm having a good day, and the evening promises a real life date. heart Nothing against the Barton dates I have on the road, but...
I think I may have mentioned this before, but I really am something of a frump in real life. I try to dress my avatar pretty much like me, for the most part. If you're looking at a avatar in sensible shoes, skirt, loose cotton button down shirt, hat and round glasses, you're looking at me for the most part.
I mean, I can spruce myself up in the evening, but I'm not one of those "needs an hour in the morning for makeup and hair" types. My hairstyle involves combing and braiding. And to be honest, I rarely wear makeup. Maybe I'm still at the age "before I needed paint" as Moll Flanders put it. I probably should wear it at work, but I'm lazy and so far, no one's said anything.
But, gosh, when I came here, suddenly all my latent clothes horse ambitions started coming out.
I'm hardly as flash as most of the avatars, but really, the above outfit is not anything I would wear in real life. I have a nice sundress, but that's as fancy as it gets. Look, I don't even own high heels (I'm 5'6", anyway).
I also certainly don't obsess about clothing. Yet when I wander about in Barton, one of the standard ways I open up conversations is "nice outfit, where DID you get it?" I can hear the gushy inflection as I talk. Last night I cornered some poor girl and pestered her about her Angelic Parasol for about 5 minutes (Finally, she asked me how old I was. I told her 26, then she typed "I'm 15" and disappeared. Hmmmm...hope I wasn't coming off as something I most certainly am not stare )
I dunno. Maybe it's frugality (or less charitably put, cheapness) that holds me back in real life: as soon as a dress costs no more than an hour of blackjack, all my pretensions about "not caring about fashion" are exposed so much stuff. confused After all, my mother did do a quick turn as a model when she was younger, and always despaired of my taste in clothes as I was growing up. Maybe it took Gaia to activate those particular genes.
Speaking of sprucing up, I had better get dressed for real. Oxbridge is about to finish some concert organizing work, and promises to take me out to a play tonight (a one man version of the first three Star Wars movies)(What, you were expecting Arthur Miller? I've got two days at home, I'm not going to waste any of it being gloomy razz ). Despite the heat, I am feeling a curious urge to dress up. I may even look for that bottle of perfume my mother gave me for Christmas. eek
