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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.

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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!

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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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