How I wore it: good lovin'

Today was a delightfully low-key day, although too much of it was spent outside for my liking (the highs today were about ten degrees lower than they've been the last couple of days!). My husband had to go to another doctor today to check out why his throat gets all hurty so often. Because we weren't sure if they were going to stick a camera down his mouth, I went with him in case of local or general anesthesia. Because of this, I had to cancel my tutoring gig today! So, boo, no tutoring money today, but, yay! Skipping out on tutoring a difficult 6-year-old! Plus, the appointment was low-key, they didn't do anything to him, so we were home early and I cooked a shepherds pie for the first time. Yay Thursdays!

Because of the crazy temps, I layered a lot. But this is what my bottom layer looked like (before fleece, jacket, scarf, gloves, and hat):

What up, Medusa-hair? What's not pictured in this picture: the layering tank I wore under the sweater and the knee-high socks under my boots/jeans. I'm not kidding about being a cold wuss, people. 

Anyway, this is as basic as an outfit gets for me, back in my preferred colors. It's really not that exciting. However, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: that black turtleneck sweater you see me wearing up there? 

That's the first piece of black clothing I ever owned. 

Let that sink in for a bit and then I'll explain.

Okay, so my mom bought me that sweater when I was in sixth grade, 11 years old (it was enormous and cowl-necked in those days and it also stretched a little with me), but under protest. We were going sweater shopping in Saks and for some reason I was really into cowl necks (early 90s, woo!). I already had picked out a beige number and then I saw a similar black one, and asked if I could try it on. My mother was unusually hesitant. It wasn't that she didn't like the sweater, not at all. It was that in her traditional Spanish/Argentine upbringing (my mother's quite older, too), black was not bought for young girls unless they were in mourning. And I, obviously, was not, but my mother just couldn't imagine buying a black garment for a girl my age ... just ... because. However, I did get to try it on and despite her misgivings, my mom did admit that the irony of the whole thing was that black looked really good against young skin. So it came home with us. But I always remember that story as being one of the few moments where I really got to bump into the otherness of my mother's background. 

Of course, the funny thing of it all is that in high school, just a few years later, I was gently teased by some teachers and younger students for always wearing black (although it was far from the case). I guess my mom had to accept the fact that she had a native New Yorker daughter. 

Well, fast forward, um, eighteen years from that long-ago shopping trip and I still have the sweater. I rarely wear it and have no idea what it was doing in my dresser, but I found it the other day and resolved to wear it soon. Today was the day. 

But can you imagine? The first black piece of clothing I ever owned. Me! 

Black sweater: Saks Fifth Avenue

Grey jeans: Bulldog by Urban Outfitters, remixed

Grey boots: Frye Paige Huaraches, by way of endless.com, remixed