A Year in Review — Day 10
Mod was the first look in “My Year of Fabulous” that made me want to hide under the covers for the whole month. I found almost everything about the look to be challenging — the short dresses, the pastel colors, the ballet flats and all the “Mrs. Roper” jewelry. I didn’t have enough fashion skill to modernize the look without making it unrecognizable and so I wore mostly retro Mod clothes which basically made me look like the host of a 1960’s variety show.
Here are the paltry few Mod outfits that I felt worked on me —
This picture was taken by my friend, Noelle, who is a professional photographer. So I think the picture is cool — the car, the angle, the dress — but the dress itself is not for me. I love the pattern, but it’s a shift dress which means it’s just way too short for my comfort zone. Even in tights, this is not a dress to bend over while in public.
This vintage dress is pure 1960s non-breathable polyester. I wore it once and only once and it happened to be to a Mommy and me music class. I sweated so much in this dress I almost passed out. You wouldn’t think trotting around in a circle pretending to be a horse would cause me to lose half my body weight in water, but this dress made that dream a reality. It felt pretty much like wearing black saran wrap. The tights and knee high boots didn’t help matters at all. I had very little skin showing that could breathe — only my face and hand skin kept me alive.
The glasses, the scarf, the dress, the white tights… I don’t really know what to say about this outfit except I think it essentially worked — I mean, it looks retro Mod. It screams “stewardess” to me, which, may or may not be a bad thing. The white tights were a killer though — they would have a dirt spot on them before I even finished putting them on. And out of all my shoes this entire year, these red ballet flats hurt the most. They were red, shiny, patent leather torture devices.
Looking at all these outfits, I can’t believe I actually wore them in public! I’m kind of proud of myself. I don’t really remember a lot of my Mod experience, which I think is my way of dealing with a traumatic experience. I also can’t believe that after this month my children were still talking to me. Maybe they don’t remember me wearing these clothes, which is their way of dealing with a traumatic experience. Perhaps one day when they grow up we can all have group therapy over our Mod experience. I look forward to it.
Tomorrow — I will discuss my Mod outfits that didn’t work. And it’s not going to be pretty….