I bought an array of colors, patterns, and fabrics that I thought, by some stroke of genius, I would be able to transform into something fabulous. That five-year-old's polka dot frock would soon be an adorable mini skirt, the Marilyn Monroe tee would magically become a handbag, and those huge buttons on that 80s-tastic red coat would be great earrings.
After taking the scissors to the bottom of the polka dot skirt off and noticing all I had was a mess of cheap black and white satin imitation, I decided to give up my sewing efforts. And I hadn't even touched the sewing machine yet. Now all I had was a pile of ugly clothes.
Ah! But that red 80s-tastic jacket! I love red, and I love the 80s, I thought. I tried it on, just for kicks, and it fit like a glove. But I wasn't sure--it was a little out there; I had never worn anything like it. While the other sewing misfits were thrown in a bin, the red jacket hung in my closet to be judged. Every time I could potentially wear it, it was always the loser to whatever other jacket wasn't as much of a statement. I wondered, why did I even spend the two bucks on this? Something in me couldn't give it up, though. I needed some sort of a sign.
The sign came in the form of a celebrity. Sarah Jessica Parker. Not even two months later, I opened the latest issue of Glamour to find SJP sprawled on two pages in this:
No more confirmation needed. Wearing that red 80s-tastic jacket would make me look like I belonged on Sex and the City. It would turn heads as I froliked down the streets of New York with my shopping bags and zebra leggings.
So I now wear the jacket with pride. SJP may not know it, but her and I are a little like kindred spirits.