Yesterday, we travelled to Holly's house to celebrate her son's third birthday. If being with your college roommates and the five children among the three of you doesn't let you know how old you are, the sixteen-year-olds who are all over each other for seven hours will. But that isn't really my point.
In between "tubbies" and diaper changes, Holly brought me into her room to show her the box of high-end-hand-me-downs from her twenty-something cousin. The box included, but was not limited to, a really nice pair of camel leather boots, which will never be worn, because they are not at all functional for running after children. A cropped sweater, the kind that just covers the boobs, and some sort of black/sparkly silver striped strapless top, which I immediately judged (shocking, I know) and told Holly she could never wear unless she were attending some form of Pimp and Ho party. And consequently, if she is attending such party, I hope, for her sake that she doesn't tell me, as she will be ridiculed mercilessly. We had a good laugh over this box of too revealing clothing and ultimately at ourselves. I shared with her how I went out the other night looking for "practical" flip-flops...is there such a thing? But there I was in the store trying on Born sandals and looking for something that had a little more cushion to them then my trusty J. Crew ones.
I believe this may be the gateway to Easy Spirit sneakers and elastic waist jeans.