Half way there. Not half bad

Recently, I decided to go a fortnight without shopping. For those of you who know me, you know that this is somewhat of a challenge. For those of you who don't know me, it's like any other time in my life, really. I shop only occasionally, and when I do, I make sound investments in staple items that will take me from season to season. Oh, you wont catch me experiencing wardrobe-regret. I really am the model of discipline and frugality. Just don't ask anyone who actually knows me. They all lie.

So halfway through my perfectly reasonable, attainable goal, I decided to reward myself for making it halfway. By shopping. Ahem. Actually, it wasn't a conscious decision on my part (shopping rarely is). I had some time to kill between spending money on sensible things like a new bin and hand wash and having a hair cut, so I popped into Red Threads. Just for something to do. I barely had enough time to order and drink a coffee, and had already hit Haighs, so it was the next logical step. 

"I'll just have a quick look. I don't need anything, and I'm saving money" is what I should have said to myself. In stead, I get this: "Heeeeeeeeeeyyyyyy. 5 buck rack!" Useless. Did I mention it had been a long day at work and I was really tired? I feel as though that's important in some way...

So while I was in there, "browsing", I thought I might as well find something to wear to this wedding on today. Of course, I had already done this a few times in the lead up to my friend's big day, and have more that enough dresses to choose from, but these thoughts were quickly dismissed. Something shiny caught my eye, no doubt. After engaging in rapid-fire flick-through of all the dress racks, I emerged triumphant with several to try on; all very different, all very lovely.

After trying them on to the sounds of the very nice staff reminding me how many minutes before closing (and hence to my haircut), I settled on a slightly unusual but quite striking Country Road dress and an elegant Dada & Co. frock with pretty shiny business going on just under the bust. 

New hair, new frocks, full of Haighs chocolate. I was one happy lady. While I was bragging to my husband (who was smiling politely but porbably thinking about soccer scores), I discovered the HORROR of all HORRORS. A stain on my new, pretty, all-silk dress. Silk. Stain. Shit. I had ignored my own rules, too certain of my finely-honed, expert skills to go back to fundamentals. Rule mumblerandomnumber: always check for stains. Even if the shop assistant is vacuuming, or calling out, "sorry, we're closed" to anyone who walks past. 

I had waited a whole week to spend that $22.95 (yes, second hand, but it's silk, and I look really cute in it). I was so disappointed. I could have spent that 10 times over. I was being frugal. FRUGAL! At first I was annoyed with the shop for selling a dress with such a large stain on it, but then I realised I only had myself to blame. Also, begrudging a charity saves you a spot in hell, so I decided to take it on the chin.

Bugger. I seriously considered wearing it out, hoping no-one would notice the rather large water mark on the bottom. But late last night, seized with the notion that the dress was practically ruined anyway, utilising some Sard and throwing it in the washing machine seemed like a reasonable option. I mentioned it was pure silk? I suppose I could have tried hand washing it, but I feel the same way about that method as I do ironing: heeeeyyyyylllllll no!

I'm so pleased it work. Sure, the silk is a little bit crushed, and it isn't as soft as it was, but if I hang it in the bathroom and hope for the best, things may work out. I'm sure not going to iron the damn thing.

It's a bit hard to see, but it has a bubble skirt. Also, it's navy blue and white. I'm still waiting for that new camera, Santa...