Earlier, I was talking about shopping…
…and today my skirts arrived.
I should note at this point that I placed my order on the 3rd November. The skirts came from New Jersey. According to Tracking my order made it to the DHL distribution centre there on the 14th, leaving on the 17th and hitting Heathrow on the 18th. It arrived here, at home in France, today, the 23rd. Weekends, Covid and Christmas shopping considered, I find that quite impressive.
I called this package Schrödinger’s Skirts. So long as it remained unopened all of my skirts could be duds, or equally might be “Unicorns” (Sari Skirt terminology for one’s dream skirt, if I understand correctly – I’m new at this game).
I have been haunting some of the Facebook Sari Skirt Groups (yes, that is a thing) both before and after placing my order and have been aware that some purchasers are deeply disappointed. I didn’t wish to be that unlucky buyer. Thus my purple package sat there until I worked up sufficient courage to dive in.
It wasn’t easy. There was a deal of trepidation regarding sizes, colours, suitability for my years, the fact that some buyers report damage or smells… Anyway, here it is. My parcel of potential Unicorns. Years and years in joggers, jeggings, leggings and shorts. Now I have not one, but five new skirts.
FIVE. Count them:
These are my skirts, straight out of the parcel. The colour reproduction isn’t of the best – the light was fading in the sitting room by the time that I had opened my package.
First impressions: they looked sort of coherent rather than the odd assortment that I had expected. Five skirts, 3 and 2 from each of two colour palettes. There also appeared to me to be a colour progression across all five. One thing was for sure – these were NOT the Amethyst and Emerald of my dreams. And I don’t think that my new SNAG tights are going to go…
I took my skirts up to the bedroom, which is lit by two large skylights, to see if I could do better. I might have chosen a better background than my duvet cover but the colours did come up slightly better.
The skirts are double layered, using different material for each layer. They don’t seem to be planned or chosen, just grabbed and sewn – which means that they don’t necessarily go well with the top layer. It’s not really possible to get a view of the second side in the packaging – just a sneaky little peek. A slight drawback considering the skirt may be worn either side out – giving in effect, ten different skirts.
There’s a lively resale market on Sari Skirts. I elected to open just one to see if the sizing was good. I picked the one that looked nicest to me and the rest could be resold if necessary, still in the original packaging. I chose the pink one on the right hand side of the image. Pink? Pink!
I opened the bag and pulled out the skirt. It felt so light, almost chiffon-like. Very summery.
It was so very pretty. I put it on and twirled – by this time Mr L had appeared in the bedroom and was grinning ear to ear. Me, I was wiping a tear from my eye – genuinely moved by the loveliness of this wearable object,
I swished, I swooshed, I twirled again and then swished some more. Then I wondered if it wasn’t just a little too feminine for a big lump like me.
Do you know, I almost put in my colour preferences “NO pink”. Rumour has it that negative requests tend to be regarded as positive choices as anything you ask not to have generally turns up. I really do not care for most pinks and really didn’t want to get a pink skirt.
I love it!
Just goes to show, doesn’t it?
Mr L sat there whilst I did several quick changes, trying on each skirt in turn. They are not all perfect but I do believe them all to be wearable. I shall know more tomorrow when I have time and light enough to have a good look and to start trying out some tops with them.
I will do a skirt-by-skirt update once I have made their proper acquaintance,
I have placed another order with SNAG now that I see my skirt colours. I ordered size F this time. I also ordered sufficient pairs to obtain a ten percent reduction.
This spending lark quickly becomes addictive, doesn’t it?
It’s a good job that I cannot wear heels or I would be developing an expensive shoe fetish roundabout now.