Shopping with mom
Oct. 22nd, 2007 12:29 pmFridaynight I met up with my mother in the nearby Bruna in the Alexandium. I needed new clothes and she agreed to help me look for them. We had a quick dinner at La Place right on the opposite side of the mall street, and talked. I only had a sandwich and a salad, and my mother ate some snert (it's as disgusting as it sounds and looks: pea soup with worst in it) and quickly got us some french fries as a dessert.
We crossed the mall street yet again and ventured into Kennedy's, a store I normally can't really find something nice because it's all too posh. But now I was looking for some special clothes and I needed them to match with my Electradesigns econo-waist cincher.
We browsed some of the racks and I looked at mom. "Shall I just ask her if she can help us?"
"You really should." mother replied.
"Excuse me," I told the first blonde woman. "I'm looking for a fancy outfit, and I have a special request: it needs to match with this corset."
The woman looked at the corset and asked me where it went. I showed her by holding it in front of my tummy, the pointed bit pointing up between my boobs.
"So, it's like a belt, then?" she asked to clarify.
Once she grasped the meaning of the corset (I just told her it took in my waist to accentuate it a bit more) she called over her colleague.
"Coco! Coco, come help us! We need to put together an ensemble!"
Coco came scuttering over and they pulled items together, showing me a ghastly skirt and urging me to put it on.
"You won't know how it suits you until you put it on." the woman said, and shooed me and a sleeveless turtleneck into the fitting chamber. "Oh and do put on that belt so we can see how it matches..."
I tried to put the skirt on but it was too small. Apparantly, I'm still a size 46 hips according to the fashion industry. But we found a skirt that would fit in the end and I even liked it. The turtleneck, with bronze charms sewn on, matched the corset as well. Now all it needed was a jacket. There was more fluttering of hands and I was helped into a few ghastly jackets until they found me a black one with satin ribbon on and a pelerine-like top. I examined my reflection. The women scolded me because I still wore my black sports socks (I was wearing my mountaineering boots for the expedition). They grabbed me a size 44 and with that the outfit was complete.
The sweaters proved to be more of a problem. It seems like that whenever you're older than 16 you're not allowed warm comfortable sweaters anymore, especially not when you're having your period. Tops, blouses and jackets are okay, but sweaters are out. I tried on a nice green velvet jacket at Miss Etam's that fit well, but I'd probably never wear, and settled for buying a short pleated skirt that I thought NoKey might fancy (he didn't) as well as a new belt with butterflies on. We bought some pantyhose at Hema before sighing down for a good cuppa. I called NoKey to update him on the progress.
M&S didn't have any sweaters and neither did Promiss, but at least I found two promising-looking ones at C&A. Sadly, one's arms were too small so the armpit bit was floating next to my boob, and the other one was very, and I mean VERY 1972.
At that point we gave up. It was only half an hour until the stores would close and although we could have tried to double back, I was hunkering for some TAC (Tea, Atlantis & Cuddles). I dropped my mother onto the metro and walked home, clutching two pairs of pantyhose, a pair of overknees, a belt, two skirts, a top and a jacket.
We crossed the mall street yet again and ventured into Kennedy's, a store I normally can't really find something nice because it's all too posh. But now I was looking for some special clothes and I needed them to match with my Electradesigns econo-waist cincher.
We browsed some of the racks and I looked at mom. "Shall I just ask her if she can help us?"
"You really should." mother replied.
"Excuse me," I told the first blonde woman. "I'm looking for a fancy outfit, and I have a special request: it needs to match with this corset."
The woman looked at the corset and asked me where it went. I showed her by holding it in front of my tummy, the pointed bit pointing up between my boobs.
"So, it's like a belt, then?" she asked to clarify.
Once she grasped the meaning of the corset (I just told her it took in my waist to accentuate it a bit more) she called over her colleague.
"Coco! Coco, come help us! We need to put together an ensemble!"
Coco came scuttering over and they pulled items together, showing me a ghastly skirt and urging me to put it on.
"You won't know how it suits you until you put it on." the woman said, and shooed me and a sleeveless turtleneck into the fitting chamber. "Oh and do put on that belt so we can see how it matches..."
I tried to put the skirt on but it was too small. Apparantly, I'm still a size 46 hips according to the fashion industry. But we found a skirt that would fit in the end and I even liked it. The turtleneck, with bronze charms sewn on, matched the corset as well. Now all it needed was a jacket. There was more fluttering of hands and I was helped into a few ghastly jackets until they found me a black one with satin ribbon on and a pelerine-like top. I examined my reflection. The women scolded me because I still wore my black sports socks (I was wearing my mountaineering boots for the expedition). They grabbed me a size 44 and with that the outfit was complete.
The sweaters proved to be more of a problem. It seems like that whenever you're older than 16 you're not allowed warm comfortable sweaters anymore, especially not when you're having your period. Tops, blouses and jackets are okay, but sweaters are out. I tried on a nice green velvet jacket at Miss Etam's that fit well, but I'd probably never wear, and settled for buying a short pleated skirt that I thought NoKey might fancy (he didn't) as well as a new belt with butterflies on. We bought some pantyhose at Hema before sighing down for a good cuppa. I called NoKey to update him on the progress.
M&S didn't have any sweaters and neither did Promiss, but at least I found two promising-looking ones at C&A. Sadly, one's arms were too small so the armpit bit was floating next to my boob, and the other one was very, and I mean VERY 1972.
At that point we gave up. It was only half an hour until the stores would close and although we could have tried to double back, I was hunkering for some TAC (Tea, Atlantis & Cuddles). I dropped my mother onto the metro and walked home, clutching two pairs of pantyhose, a pair of overknees, a belt, two skirts, a top and a jacket.
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Date: 2007-10-22 11:59 am (UTC)Oh and on a side-note: Snert is not disgusting. It's good old traditional Dutch cooking, like Haggis is good old traditional Scotch cooking. The fatc that you don't like it, shows your lack of appreciation for our traditions. :P :P
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Date: 2007-10-22 12:13 pm (UTC)Photos soon, I promise :-)
I appreciate Dutch traditions: I love zuurkool, andijvie, hutspot and boerenkool. It's just the snert that gets me puking. I even sometimes do a spot of orange on Queensday!
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Date: 2007-10-22 03:01 pm (UTC)(Steelweaver@work, not allowed to log into anything by firewall)
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Date: 2007-10-23 10:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 11:05 am (UTC)