The Curious Case of the Missing Wardrobe…

So, I’ve realised that there is a big mystery to be solved at my house… I am missing some garments. Some very nice ones, at that…Curious.

Of course, my first suspicion was that the little one took it. It is a widely known (and admitted) fact that we “borrow” clothing from each other…That is, until the other one finds out and it is sheepishly handed back to its rightful owner. But I flat out asked her, and demanded honesty or all hell will break loose, and she said she doesn’t have any of it. And I believe her. Here’s why: Normally, when we’re hiding this type of thing, you try to keep the owner as far away from your closet as possible. But she just told me that on her return Sunday, she will pack het closet and suitcase out, for me to see, that she does in fact, not have it. So I’m pretty sure she is being honest.

So next on the list, is the big sister. I did ask her, and she too, said no. I believe her, because with us two, if the other one asks, you just ‘fess up and give it back. Sure, we hide the fact that we have it, but when confronted with the question, we just admit it and move on…

So I asked the man, because maybe I left it there sometime. He said he’s not sure, that he’d check, but I’m almost 100% sure it’s not at his place. So now I’m completely stuck. It’s definitely not still in Amsterdam, because I’ve worn two of the items since our return, and the other one was missing even before we left. I’m sure it’s not just hiding between my own clothing, because with the move and the packing out, I sorted out my stuff and my closet is actually neat (Shocker!!!).

What to do? I’m going to double-check my own closet, and also check in the linen closet. (Sometimes we put clean laundry in there when we don’t have time to sort it out before we have guests coming) But I’ll have to wait until the young one comes home to see if she has it or not. But if she doesn’t, what then?

I’m quite devastated to even think about my stuff being missing forever (!). I love my clothing. I am somewhat materialistic. I am saddened by this loss. Some of those items are quite irreplaceable. Blah. What do I do?

Much Love 



I’d like to share with you today my newest acquisitions…

As you must know by now, I am quite addicted to fashion, and even more so to shoes. I really do love them. I know it s difficult to understand if you’re the typical man. But there’s just something about fashion. It’s inexplicable. No matter the horrid day I have had, or the tedious people I had to deal with (just had to at the moment I was typing that), a new pair of shoes always cheers me up. They’re there to be pretty, to make you feel pretty, to love.

So without further a due…

Fashion = Freedom of thought?

Can fashion equal freedom? Does it?

Today, I’d like to share some very personal thoughts. I woke up this morning, after tossing and turning all night, battling with nightmares. I got up with a sigh, thinking I don’t have anything to wear and feeling oh so gloomy about the dreams. These nightmares come often. They’re never quite the same, but the underlying theme is always the same. I realised this morning that these dreams are just my subconscious telling me to grow a pair.

These dreams are sparked by insecurity and fuelled by distrust. I have a problem with these issues. I haven’t always been like this, but there have been events in my life that made me this woman. It’s sad, and pathetic, and I’m tired of it. I recently started being needy, and insecure and insanely paranoid. Add to that jealousy, and you have a whole bag of ugly. Ugly that is me.

But as I drank my coffee, pondering my bore of a wardrobe, I saw an outfit in my head. I thought to myself that I could NEVER pull it off. I’m not skinny enough. But, I tried it on anyway. Now my mother is my biggest fan and my worst critic. I love her for that. If I want an honest opinion about whatever it is that I’m wearing, I just walk into her room, and wait for the reaction. So slowly, and filled with dread, I took the long walk to her room, wearing an outfit that I was sure looked horrendous…

Her face lit up, and she said “You look so good. Look how much weight you’ve lost!” So I walked to my mirror and tried to see what she saw. I put on my boots, and my accessories, and tried agin. “Perfect”, she says. Cue the little sister (not so little, being 18 and all) and she delightfully chirps “You look so cute. Like I-could-eat-you-up-cute”. So now, it’s too late to get dressed again, and I just decide to bear it and wear it.

By the time I got to work, the nightmares were forgotten, and I’m feeling the fashionista in me clawing her way back out from the depths that is my dark and twisted soul. And as I sat, reading my emails before we open up shop, I decide that yes, indeed, I really do look good.

With that thought along with the epiphany that even though I’m not Super Skinny, like I long to be, I have lost 10 kilo’s, and that is nothing to scoff at. And that I am worth the praise.

So what I’m trying to say, is that this outfit changed my outlook today. I have made a conscious decision that I will no longer be this pathetic, insecure, sad little shell of the girl I used to be. I am hot. I am beautiful. I am intelligent and talented. And I am done, and I mean DONE, trying to be the girl that would make you not cheat on me. Look, if a guy wants to cheat, he will. No matter what you try to do to stop it. The more you fight it, the more likely it will happen. So I’m not begging for monogamy anymore. I’m assuming it doesn’t need to be asked for. I’m not begging for love anymore. If anyone can’t love me for me, faults and flaws and all, then so be it. I’m better than begging, and I won’t do it anymore.

So yes, I think that fashion can free. It freed me of the insanity that kept filling up my mind. And that is kinda great.

Much Love