I took this snap as I walked to skytrain this morning:
It’s been so cold around these parts that most of the trees that line my route still stand bare, their flowers tucked away inside their warm and cozy buds.
I am missing the vibrant colours we on the West Coast are normally treated too at this time of year.
Cherry blossoms always remind me a bit of popcorn. One minute they are nothing more than little shells, rattling about in the spring time wind. Close your eyes, or turn your head but for a moment, and -POOF!
They have exploded into multi-textured, blush-toned brilliance.
They remind me of love.
They also remind me to keep the faith that one day we’ll have two days of consecutive sunshine.
(A girl can dream right?)
Today at lunch my great friend J asked me to accompany her to H&M because she needed to purchase some tank tops for a bachelorette party.
Never one to give up the opportunity to visit my “try don’t buy” Mecca, I readily agreed.
For those of you who are new to the blog, I love to do this thing where I go into stores and try on outfits that are modeled on the mannequins to see how well they translate to a real life body.
Some ridiculing is sometimes involved.
(H&M is also one of the most fun stores to do this in. Furthermore, it’s an extra bonus because I really like their men’s clothing and have been trying on more of their stuff in hopes of finding sweet new deals.)
Pretty much as soon as we entered the store, we honed in on what would be today’s outfit to highlight:
I mean, can you think of anything else that says SUMMER-BBQ-FUNTIME than these shorts?
I dare you to come up with something better!
But then, of course, I had to try on two other fashion concoctions to prove that I am 1.) not a total crap master (to both you, dear readers, and the sad faced girl working in the change room) and 2.) genuinely interested in some of the merchandise available for purchase at the store.
So in that aim, I put on this dress:
Which I would actually love if I wouldn’t be branded a hoyden extraordinaire (and maybe just general pervert) if I ever wore it outside of the confines of the dressing room – because take my word of it, the “dress” was darn short.
Cute as heck yes, but not enough to convince me that I’m ready for a rap sheet.
The second were these pants:
I love the colour and they were super comfortable, but the crotch was hanging perilously low. And like I said, I’m just not digging the debauched vibe.
All in all, I struck out.
After J bought her goods, we walked back to the office and the perma-drizzle clung to our coats and hung from our hair.
But the memory of this morning’s flowers remains. And if things get really bad, I’ll just try on some new shorts.
Or a pair of men’s pants.
And I’ll think of summer.