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rolanni*Sigh*
Today I tried on a pair of sandwashed silk pants. They felt wonderful. Mind you, the looked ridiculous, but, oh! the sheer sweetness of the fabric. I seriously thought about buying them anyway, just so I could have the pleasure of petting them once in a while. Also tried on a silk shirt, which likewise felt nice and looked marginally less ridiculous, but (1) I'm not as fond of the shiny finished silk as I am the sandwashed and (2) the over-the-knuckle cuffs were irritating. If they'd been ruffled -- I can Deal gracefully with knuckle-length ruffles, but a tight cuff that bells ever-so-slightly from wrist to fingers -- nuh-uh.
Silk being somewhat of a bust, I bethought myself of the fact that all my "good" shirts are either fencing shirts (see knuckle-length ruffles, above) or men's white oxford shirts. In fact, I couldn't exactly remember the last time I'd bought -- not to say worn -- a so-called lady's shirt. So, I tried on a lady's white oxford shirt.
The fabric was thin, the shirt-tail short, and the breast pocket unserviceably small (not that I usually press my breast pocket into service, but if you're gonna have one, it ought to at least be possible to put a pen in it). The sleeves were long enough, and I have to believe that this was the sole criterion applied by the inspector who labeled the garment "tall". It wouldn't have stayed tucked in for five minutes. I note for the record, if there is one, that the shirt in question was "hecho in China."
In any case, this whole dismal shopping experience put me forcibly in mind of why it is that I do buy, and wear, men's dress shirts. The sleeves are long enough, check -- the tails stay tucked, check -- the fabric is smooth-woven and pleasing without being thin, check -- the pocket is usable in a pinch, check -- the buttons are big enough to manipulate, check; price is comparable to the price of a woman's so-called oxford shirt, check -- and it wears like iron. Right. Now I remember.
******
In other news, this afternoon was the follow-up dental visit. There is a root canal in my pretty immediate future, which should take care of the persistent pain in my mouth. Hard to believe that one lousy root on one tooth is responsible for all this. There's some other, minor-in-the-scheme-of-things, work that should also eventually be done, but nothing as pressing as getting that dern root taken care of.
And I finally got the end-of-year balance sheet totaled, go, me. Adding a column of figures should not be this hard.
Today I tried on a pair of sandwashed silk pants. They felt wonderful. Mind you, the looked ridiculous, but, oh! the sheer sweetness of the fabric. I seriously thought about buying them anyway, just so I could have the pleasure of petting them once in a while. Also tried on a silk shirt, which likewise felt nice and looked marginally less ridiculous, but (1) I'm not as fond of the shiny finished silk as I am the sandwashed and (2) the over-the-knuckle cuffs were irritating. If they'd been ruffled -- I can Deal gracefully with knuckle-length ruffles, but a tight cuff that bells ever-so-slightly from wrist to fingers -- nuh-uh.
Silk being somewhat of a bust, I bethought myself of the fact that all my "good" shirts are either fencing shirts (see knuckle-length ruffles, above) or men's white oxford shirts. In fact, I couldn't exactly remember the last time I'd bought -- not to say worn -- a so-called lady's shirt. So, I tried on a lady's white oxford shirt.
The fabric was thin, the shirt-tail short, and the breast pocket unserviceably small (not that I usually press my breast pocket into service, but if you're gonna have one, it ought to at least be possible to put a pen in it). The sleeves were long enough, and I have to believe that this was the sole criterion applied by the inspector who labeled the garment "tall". It wouldn't have stayed tucked in for five minutes. I note for the record, if there is one, that the shirt in question was "hecho in China."
In any case, this whole dismal shopping experience put me forcibly in mind of why it is that I do buy, and wear, men's dress shirts. The sleeves are long enough, check -- the tails stay tucked, check -- the fabric is smooth-woven and pleasing without being thin, check -- the pocket is usable in a pinch, check -- the buttons are big enough to manipulate, check; price is comparable to the price of a woman's so-called oxford shirt, check -- and it wears like iron. Right. Now I remember.
******
In other news, this afternoon was the follow-up dental visit. There is a root canal in my pretty immediate future, which should take care of the persistent pain in my mouth. Hard to believe that one lousy root on one tooth is responsible for all this. There's some other, minor-in-the-scheme-of-things, work that should also eventually be done, but nothing as pressing as getting that dern root taken care of.
And I finally got the end-of-year balance sheet totaled, go, me. Adding a column of figures should not be this hard.
