I've thought of taking a picture of myself before I head off to the twins because I get ready for bed before I leave my house. So I wear flannel pajama bottoms, a long sleeve thermal shirt, throw on my giant jacket and rain or snow boots, depending on the whether. Really, I look dashing.
You may think I look a bit cuter when I go to work at the hotel. But sadly my uniform has morphed into corduroys, a sweater, and clogs. Clogs. Yesterday, because the hotel is shut down for the month of April, I wore old jeans, a sweatshirt, a fleece jacket, and my sister's Bogs. A perfect image of a Vermont farm girl.
So what did I wear Wednesday? Unfortunately I've been terribly sick since I returned home from my vacation so today I decided to not move from my bed and maybe I will magically recover. So I am wearing my UNH hospitality shirt (shout out to Christine!) and sweat pants. Pretty, eh?
When I was in Copenhagen I went out and did some errands with my brother, when he stepped into the bank I told him I'd wait outside. We were on the busiest street in Denmark - the busiest street for bikes that is - so it was people watching central. So many beautiful people in perfect outfits rode by on their cute, vintage looking bikes. I was in awe, a little jealous, and remembering fondly how I used to look on my adorable bike with its wicker basket, and my perfect outfits.
When I moved back to Vermont after living in Europe for over a year, I tried to maintain my style. But it was difficult. It was cold, the icy roads and parking lots made it impossible to wear heels. Dresses became out of the question after only a few weeks. Now that the snow has finally melted the mud prevents me from wearing anything but rubber boots. So I've fallen into the easy, "I don't care how I look" life of a northern Vermonter. In the beginning it kind of felt good, knowing I could wear anything and wouldn't be looked at with an unkind eye. I wore jeans I would never be seen in in Copenhagen. I wore hideous wool sweaters just because I knew it would keep more warm. I stopped caring.
But now I miss it. I miss my cute outfits. I have a pile of heels that go untouched. I yearn for last year when I was flitting around London in dresses and stilettos. But if I wore anything like that here, people would think I'm crazy. "Are you dressing up for the cows?" Sigh.
Just a month to go before I move back to a city!
Until then, old jeans and rubber boots.