She had an odd sense of style, Eugenia Mae. As she came walking down the hall you could hardly take your eyes off her. You could tell that some of the items she wore were new so long ago that even they had forgotten their former glory, not to mention their color. Her blouse was an uncertain hue from too many bouts with bleach in the wash. She had on a green and orange plaid skirt, which looked a bit askew in it’s warp and weave. Perhaps from that day she hung it out wet in that wind storm 3 years ago. It was the skirt that was left over after the winter, spring and summer sales. The one marked down so low she had taken pity on it. Over her faded blouse she wore a hand knitted vest of lime green that was supposed to coordinate with the green in her skirt, but refused to do so in screaming protest. The vest was held together in the front with an old tarnished bronze pin with rather large and gaudy rhinestones. I think it was supposed to look like a zinnia.
She was wearing really old fashioned beige cotton stockings secured with a knot just above her knees. To complete her ensemble, she had tied an orange velvet ribbon in her hair that actually DID match the orange in her skirt. One’s eyes flitted back and forth to this pair of harmonious elements and you got the clear message that she really HAD given the outfit some serious thought. So you had to forgive her on the spot and turn your disdain into mild pity and no small amount of sad admiration.
She was wearing really old fashioned beige cotton stockings secured with a knot just above her knees. To complete her ensemble, she had tied an orange velvet ribbon in her hair that actually DID match the orange in her skirt. One’s eyes flitted back and forth to this pair of harmonious elements and you got the clear message that she really HAD given the outfit some serious thought. So you had to forgive her on the spot and turn your disdain into mild pity and no small amount of sad admiration.
Eugenia Mae was ready for the day.