With the usual three year old level of tact and grace, The Rooster said,
"Grandma! Your tights don't match your dress."
Grandma Seattle, infamous fashionista and garment over-achiever, got her rock star on in the country last weekend.
She wore a dress like this:
With tights like these:
She slipped super high-heeled, charcoal colored, oxford pumps laced up with black ribbons on her feet and giant, prescription, white rimmed aviator sunglasses on her face.
[Very rock star.]
Despite my daughter's critique, she looked very New York Chic to me.
The kink in the plan around this particular outfit was that we were destined for a teeny, tiny church in an extremely rural part of Virginia.
We spent the weekend in Virginia for a homecoming celebration held by my grandparent's community church for the purpose of dedicating their new fellowship hall. The Rooster and I joined my mother, her siblings and other family members for the gathering.
In the church yard after the service, I caught my cousin Cary staring at my mom's outfit.
I watched him, grinning, until he noticed he was caught.
"You know," he said, "the church ladies are going to talk about your mama's get up for weeks."
"Well," I said, "maybe that's a good thing. It will save them from talking about each other and she's leaving town tomorrow and won't care."
"Now that," he said with a look of optimism, "is a very good point."
She started her own blog.
Wave your hands in the air and shout.......