My Boots Match My Horns

For this year's NaNoWriMo project I will be again trying to force myself to spew 50,000 words that make some sense together through November. http://www.nanowrimo.org Last year I found it thrilling, fulfilling, heartbreaking and tedious all at the same time.

My title this year comes from my friend Cathy. She was relating a story about one of her schizophrenic relatives who leaned over and whispered to her one day 'my boots match my horns today'. I immediately set about stealing this title. It's appropros that this came from Cathy because she is so often to be found with glaringly mismatched horns and boots.

Cathy has been my favourite target for dispensing fashion advice to as gleaned from the TLC show What Not To Wear. Stacey and Clinton should rule the universe!

Until I got my teeth sharpened, Cathy used to look like a 50+ year old woman who had idolized Maude for several years. Always shiny and clean but covered in yards of drapery and layers usually in varying shades of black. A goth Maude. With beads and broaches and bangles and bracelets. Shudder. Lady Godiva didn't freedom ride for that look sister!

I began slowly by asking if she'd seen the show. I explained the premise. Several times. I urged her to watch it. I begged her to watch it. Then I just got mean.

After several probing questions about what she thought about her particular sense of style, I learned that she was very self concious about her chest and her butt as are most North Americans I've encountered. Interesting then to see that she would wear things gathered at her breasts or long tailcoatted items hugging her butt. This is not the way you want to go according to Stacey, Clinton and the laws of the universe. Anything nearly hitting the floor on a short(ish)person makes you look like you have no legs. Think about it! What's under that coat propelling you along? Wheels?

The capper for me was the day Cathy came in to work wearing some sort of post Maudern three quarter length jacket (over the rest of her signature black) all aglitter with sparkly coloured bits sewn throughout. Put a microphone in her hand and Ladies And Gentleman, Miss Liza Minelli...cue the New York New York music.

I had a hard time not saying anything but I managed. That is, until we were walking back from a break and someone said to her 'Oh, are you going out dancing tonight after work'? That freed me to let her know that this fell into the showbiz evening wear category and was not perhaps the most appropriate attire for the business world.

It worked! Well, not right away. After she wore it to work about 4 more times, I guess I gave up and she gave in probably around the same time. Unbeknownst to me, she was also being regularly attacked by a kindly sister in law about some of the same clothing issues. Lady Catherine began in earnest to shop with rules for her body type swirling around her. Better rules swirling than yards of fabric.

The next thing you know, there were shorter jackets, pants that created a line from the hip down, coordinated outfits sometimes not featuring exclusively black. The gods had woken up and looked down. They set to work rescrambling her brain and sent her out in the world to do good. She was prouder of herself than I was.

It was lovely to see someone who was 40 look her age again and not 52 looking like she belonged on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. She looked better, felt better, got a new job, and changed her style all because of a silly TV show and a guy with no cause to be mean but who just liked to be. Now, her boots did finally match her horns.

Now what the fuck is up with that lipstick?

Following the rules of Nanowrimo, I'll be writing something altogether different as I've just now written this. Damn. I'm keeping the title though. It rocks.

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