Fireworks and Soda Jerks and Keeping it All Simply Strung

 Neon Niblets Necklace

Top: Frederick's of Hollywood

Skirt: Lily White, Kohl's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Merona, Target

Belt: Izod, Marshalls

Scarf: Kohl's

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

 Green Scene Necklace

Top: Material Girl, Macy's

Skirt: Forever 21

Shoes: Guess, DSW

Bag: Nordstrom

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Ernestine's Elephants Necklace

Bra top: Boscov's

Cardigan: Kohl's

Jeans: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Shoes: City Streets, JCPenney

Bag: Merona, Target

Belt: Izod, Marshalls

This post has nothing whatsoever to do with soda jerks.  It just made for a nice rhyme.  I wanted to be up front about that.

You'd think I would've busted out the red, white, and blue for this post-Fourth of July post, but America's b-day or not, I found that color palette to be limiting.  Not that I'm not patriotic.  If anything, I hold the Fourth near and dear to my heart because that's when I first met the husband.  Seven years ago I was at a BBQ, wearing not red, white, and blue but orange, white, and blue, and telling people that the fireworks had been cancelled.  Not in a killjoy kind of way, just in a spreading-the-word-to-anyone-who-asked kind of way.  Later I found out that there had never been any fireworks planned in the first place, that they'd been made up to lure people away from competing bashes.  Needless to say, my town crier act didn't endear me to the other guests.  Which was why I was surprised to find myself in conversation with anyone, let alone a fellow straight shooter.  He was kind and quirky and funny and certainly didn't care about my little gaffe.  We were getting along so well that I found myself opening up about yet another picnic faux pas, this one several years old and involving a worm discovered while corn husking.  He laughed, and I laughed; it was the beginning of something.  Although I didn't know it then, I would never have to go on a first date again.  

Wearing a new piece of clothing is kind of like a first date.  Everything's exciting and new, but you don't know exactly what you're doing.  Things are a little stiff, a little formal, and not yet ready to mesh with each other, the fashion equivalent of volleying canned queries like "What kind of music do you like?" and "Do you have any pets?" over a too-big fried appetizer sampler.  Take this A-line Lily White skirt from Kohl's, an example of transitional wear if ever I saw one.  I wore it with a yellow ruffly blouse to make it more summery, but the blouse was a little too, well, blousy.  Something fitted would've made more of a contrast against the skirt's fullness.  What's more, I teamed it with a pastel shell necklace, which played up the school's-out vibe, and gray lace tights and black patent T-straps, foisting fall upon myself far too early.  It was Miami Beach meets Central Park in October, not bad, but not good either, much like those nuked mozzarella sticks.  Next time and the time after that I'll have a better handle on how to style this skirt until outfitting it is as much of a no-brainer as throwing on my oldest jeans.

If that isn't love, then I don't know what is.