Sometimes I Wonder About Me

On Sunday, just prior to the antihistimine high/low, we all went out for a midday stroll on College Street. For those of you unfamiliar with said thoroughfare, it's a trendy strip full of clubs, churrasquerias, fantastic ice cream (Dolce, anyone?), grocery stores (large and small) and boutiques.

One of these, Article 8, is entirely too youthful for the likes of me. (Let's call it as it is, shall we?) The place started out as a T-shirt textile printer and eventually morphed into a clothing store which sells dresses the size of Ts. Despite this, somehow I managed to walk out with a dress that doubles as a shirt (no joke). It's blouson with a tight, skirt-thick hem. And it's acid yellow. With a picture of a lady stencilled on in black. And some silver thrown in for good measure.

You know I'm going to have to take a photo of this, because it sounds too horrible to look at, much less buy. I promise, it's novel (if nothing else). And it's the kind of thing I can wear in the hottest weather because it's practically nonexistent. And ray repellant! With my red gladiator sandals I think I can just about pretend I'm 23 and bartending in the East Village...