Ah, springtime in
It’s definitely springier than it was a few weeks ago. I can tell because of 2 visual cues that have just popped up overnight: daffodils and crocus are blooming in flowerbeds all around my neighborhood and in the city, and the Weird Girls in my neighborhood are dressing for spring.
Weird Girls are the deliberately eclectic college students and girls in their early 20s who live in my neighborhood, which is full of them. (‘Deliberately eclectic’ is a generous interpretation. I suppose there could be that many accidents at any one time in any one person’s wardrobe, but it’s hard to believe…) It seems they wear their eccentricities like a badge of honor or prestige – the weirder they dress, the prouder they are of their fashion-sense and thrift-shop conquests. Now, I love a good find at a thrift shop. But unlike Weird Girls I don’t try to wear every good find all on the same day.
An example: This morning I walked to work behind one of these Weird Girls. She was wear black knee-high slouch boots that had a dangly-jangly silver buckle so they rang with each scuffed step she took; white super-lacy tights, the kind you see on chubby baby girls in church on a sunny spring Sunday; a chunky grey knitted, knobby-fringed mini skirt; and a vintage 70s tight leather cropped maroon bomber jacket. She topped this, of course, with the absolutely necessary aviator shades and giant pearl earrings the outfit was screaming for. Naturally.
Another Weird Girl in full spring regalia wore a puffy shiny red winter jacket, a pink flowered calico ruffly skirt, skin-tight indigo jeans cuffed at mid-calf, black tights and green clogs.
I’m telling you, it's not the spring I miss and wish for, but it has its compensations.