I know I promised a post that would explain my love for plaid. This is the post to acknowledge that a post is coming. It won't live up to the hype, but it's coming nonetheless.
My dear friend Julia explained to her mother last weekend that plaid's my favorite pattern. (Probably followed by nautical stripes, gingham and pinstripes. In case you were wondering.)
Oddly, despite my waxing poetic on the subject, I don't own a lot of plaid. A couple of scarves, a Value Village skirt from a costume party years ago, a pair of wool trousers that will fit again once my runner's body decides to lean out a little more, and a purse.
And as of yesterday, I own this:
It makes me feel like a hip, preppy cowgirl. As someone who once defined her style as "Audrey Hepburn goes to camp," it seems appropriate. It also might be just the thing to wear in the presence of these guys next week:
I'll expand later. On the topic of tartan and checked fabrics. And then I'll chat about Bret and Jemaine. Because next Wednesday will be quite the adventure in Toronto.
P.S. I'm pretty sure my crush on plaid has a lot to do with Clueless. Or The Beverly Hillbillies.