pop, Pop, POP!

   It’s my opinion that the worst sound a woman can hear while getting dressed for an evening out is, “pop, Pop, POP!”  At this time some of you readers may be wondering if I’m living in South Central L.A, a setting the music industry has established as a hub of massive gang violence and constant drive-by shootings.  The answer to this question is no.  Thank God this prairie, “princess,” has never had to experience the horrors of fearing for her life on a daily basis.  Nope, when this lady hears a, “pop, Pop, POP!” noise while in her bedroom she knows it’s not a shot coming from a gun, but rather a racket provoked by her guns...pfff..sorry, couldn’t help that one.

   To explain, I would first like to clarify that in no way am I trying to make light of urban violence.  I understand it’s a tragic problem in our country that claims many innocent victims and cripples entire communities from achieving any type of social progress.  I can’t imagine what it would be like to be in my home only to hear a sound that would terrify me enough to dive down on the floor in an effort to not be killed by flying bullets.  The thought alone is horrific.  No, my privileged reality is much different.  Thankfully I was not fearing for my life the evening I heard, “pop, Pop, POP!” Although I can state that I was struck with a kind of terror.  However, my fear was far removed from that which was previously discussed.  The night I heard that fateful fuss I knew instantly my windows were fully intact but, “Damn it!  I blew out my coat!”

   Now, there are probably people who exist that would read this statement and think, “What the heck does she mean, “blew out her coat?”  To those people I’d like to say, “You're even more privileged than I!”  Unfortunately, it’s not been an uncommon occurrence in my life to have my clothes periodically explode off of me.  In fact, this has happened frequently with coats in particular.  Okay, and yes, I will admit to having my pants drastically split while wearing them.  However, in my defense I work at a greenhouse where us employees are quite physically active.  Think lots of squatting, lifting, and carrying heavy objects.  It’s quite common for daily wardrobe, “blow outs,” to occur.  This being stated, the evening I blew out my coat’s shoulder seams I merely bent over to pick up my clutch purse. “Sigh”…

   Here’s where I try to salvage my dignity.  I will state that the coat I’m wearing in the pictures above is a vintage piece.  Keeping that in mind, I would like to further argue that vintage clothing is often quite small, considering the ladies of long ago were of rather petite stature.  In some ways this fact suits my body type just fine.  Unfortunately, in other aspects it can be rather inconvenient considering my height, my gibbon-like arm length, and my apparently broad shouldered frame.  Seriously, taking this into consideration I should have been an awesome athlete.  Stupid team sports!...not everyone interacts well with others!

   Returning to the topic at hand, the night I wanted to debut my beautiful vintage find I ended up nearly ripping the sleeves off in an attempt to pivot my body to reach my purse.  Needless to say, I was appalled to have marred such a treasured piece before I could even really wear it.  In the end, I was still able to wear this coat to the party that evening.  Luckily, due to the placement of the rips there was enough fur to cover the damage.  Suddenly, my one of a kind vintage treasure transformed from an extra small to a much needed medium.  I wore the coat with pride that evening, and not only was I comfortable, but I received many lovely compliments on it.  In closing, I can confidentially say that the next time I hear, “pop, Pop, POP!” while wearing this coat I can guarantee it’s more likely I’m throwing discus in it than cruising in California.

-r.

Coat:  Vintage

Sweater:  Thrifted (Ugly sweater rack at Savers!)

Jeans:  Henry & Belle

Boots:  Ugg

Necklace:  Alfani 

Belt:  Vintage  https://www.etsy.com/shop/ELOFSON