The Annual Navy Tights Conspiracy
I have a nerdy habit. I always choose the outfit for the following day after checking ORF Teletext page 602 (weather forecast for Vienna) last thing at night. Not because I'm particularly anal and like to plan everything down to the last detail, but simply because I know that deciding what to wear first thing in the morning would be way to stressful and mean that I'd have to get up half an hour or so earlier to allow extra time for hovering in front of the wardrobe(s).
As I tend to go to sleep when it's dark outside I have to do my wardrobe selection in artificial lighting, i.e. by the light of my bedroom lamp. So far, so good.
Every and I mean every autumn when it's tights-season again I end up laying out a pair of supposedly black tights that turns out to be navy when I'm on my way to the bus the next morning and can't be bothered to turn round and go back to the flat to change.
The ironic thing is that I don't even own any navy clothes and those pairs of navy tights (sturdy, opaque tights of 60 DEN and over, too indistructible to throw away without a bad conscience) which are a relic from a Sock Shop phase in the early 90s when I did wear navy. Last year I decided to put an end to the annual navy-tights-crisis and put them *all* into a plastic bag to take home to my Mum who's not adverse to the colour.
One candidate must have escaped my notice and so we did it again last night. I thanked the fact that there were only about 10 cms between my boots and coat to draw attention to the fashion offense. Thank God for the fact that the DM on my way to work opens before 9. Crisis averted.
As I tend to go to sleep when it's dark outside I have to do my wardrobe selection in artificial lighting, i.e. by the light of my bedroom lamp. So far, so good.
Every and I mean every autumn when it's tights-season again I end up laying out a pair of supposedly black tights that turns out to be navy when I'm on my way to the bus the next morning and can't be bothered to turn round and go back to the flat to change.
The ironic thing is that I don't even own any navy clothes and those pairs of navy tights (sturdy, opaque tights of 60 DEN and over, too indistructible to throw away without a bad conscience) which are a relic from a Sock Shop phase in the early 90s when I did wear navy. Last year I decided to put an end to the annual navy-tights-crisis and put them *all* into a plastic bag to take home to my Mum who's not adverse to the colour.
One candidate must have escaped my notice and so we did it again last night. I thanked the fact that there were only about 10 cms between my boots and coat to draw attention to the fashion offense. Thank God for the fact that the DM on my way to work opens before 9. Crisis averted.
posted at 12:20 PM
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