When Che Met Rhoda

   Not all that long ago I found myself hanging out with my parents.  Oh, who am I kidding?!  I find myself socializing with the, "rents," almost weekly.  It's the classic story they're both retired, I have no real social life so, what the heck, right?  Actually, I quite enjoy spending time with my parents. They are both insightful, hilarious, and charmingly odd individuals.  It is not wasted on me that these are the top characteristics I look for in my closest friends.  However in addition to all that, my parents know how to compile one heck of a reading list for someone in need of entertainment.  In fact, my favorite Starbucks owes these two a debt of gratitude due to the amount of money I have spent on lattes while reading the endless novels they have recommended me.  Yep, hanging out at the coffee shop book club style!  Say hello to your mid thirties.

   Anyway, a while back I was enjoying yet another afternoon of book talk, music musings, and random tangents with mom and dad.  On this particular visit I was wearing the outfit pictured above.  At some point during the conversation my rather unpredictable father asked me, "just what was I wearing?"  I describe dad as unpredictable due to the frequently meandering, often inane conversations I find myself in with him.  Now please, do not think that I do not enjoy these talks with my father.  In fact, it is these kind of ridiculous exchanges I live for.  I mean hey, the TV show, "Seinfeld," was a hit for a reason.  At times, talking to dad can be a lot like watching one of those episodes.  Of course, get my mom involved as well and the conversation can get pretty abstract.  I swear after forty-some years of marriage the two of them can communicate solely through whistles, eye rolling, and hand gestures.  "Not that there's anything wrong with that," as Seinfeld would comment.

   On this particular day, dad had interjected his rather abrupt question, "what are you wearing?" during the middle of some such conversation that I would bet revolved around books or Pinterest. Before I could respond, my mom answered that my outfit was very Che Guevara.  To which my dad replied, "of course he could see that."  At this point, I was confused at how certain they both were that I had designed my outfit around a Cuban revolutionist.  "Not that there's anything wrong with that."  I continued our collaborative random stream of consciousness by verbalizing that I was thinking the outfit was more Rhoda from the, "Mary Tyler Moore Show."  I mean come on, the hat screams Rhoda!  To which my mom emphatically agreed.  After about five more minutes of random bantering about the origins of my outfit we all decided that the look was clearly what would result when Che met Rhoda.  Everyone seemed happy with this revelation even though it took about twenty minutes of ridiculous conversation for us all to define it.  "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

-r.

Jacket:  Thrifted and Upcycled with Cynthia Vincent purse remnants by me.

Jeans:  Silver Jeans

Boots:  Ugg

Purse:  Lucky Brand

Hat:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Revolver/83835808435

Gloves:  Anthropologie

Necklace:  Dead Things  https://www.facebook.com/objetsdelamort

*All pictures taken by Clark.  Thank you Dad.