Shopping: The Bane of Existence

Blech. I hate shopping. I went shopping for clothes yesterday, and I found nothing. Who wants thin silky skirts in the winter? We don’t all work in overheated office buildings, you know. I want some comfy skirts, preferably in thick warm winter fabrics. I like long skirts that are straight then flute at the bottom (I’ve got one black one; I need more. That’s why I went shopping). That way you can take long strides and not feel that you’re tripping yourself up (I’ve got one denim skirt that does that to me; we have a love/hate relationship, that skirt and I).

It seems my cycle goes something like this: Buy clothes from catalogs. Things work for a while. Realize all the shipping money you’re shelling out. Get frustrated. Buy clothes from stores for a while. Waste hours and hours going to shops, trying on clothes, waiting in lines. Get frustrated. Visit consignment shops. See pretty things in sizes other than your own (the rack for your own size is overstocked with potato-sack monstrosities; I am not a monstrosity, nor am I a potato). Get frustrated. Decide to start making clothes. Make a skirt/dress/top. Become shocked at the price of fabric, curse at the whole lining issue, bemoan the amount of time wasted in cutting and sewing. Get frustrated. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I’m thinking maybe I can break the cycle by doing this: Buy some thick brocade fabric, cut up the denim skirt, and add in brocade panels to turn it into a fluted skirt (I bypass the whole lining issue). Go online and find one or two catalog skirts. Go to a consignment store and buy some warm wintery tops.

Blech. I hate shopping. I wish there was a uniform to life, just like in high school.