I spent like a month plotting and sewing a shirt for myself. I had to go out and buy some complimentary fabric and creatively lay out the pattern pieces because the fabric was some rad old fabric I found in my mom’s stash. I had many struggles with it and even used my arch nemesis interfacing. I finished the shirt (except buttons holes. Apparently I have the same problems with sewing as I do knitting.) and it looks like complete poop. The collar is so big it could eat my soul in one bite and the sleeve ruffles stick straight out.
I am wearing a Talbot’s pencil skirt and belt with thrifted gold loafers. The bow is hand knit by me
My sister told me I looked like a demented jester. (In her defense, I was wearing the shirt with my giggling mice PJs at the time.) She wanted to try to the shirt on. Guess what. It looks fine on her!
Britta, my sister, is wearing H&M acid wash treggings and Michael Kors shoes.
You might be looking at these pictures and think that it looks just fine on me. It might. When I look at it I feel like I just can’t pull it off. Britta can. Rude.
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