shamrock tender_square if you would’ve have asked me what shade the skirt was before today, i would’ve said lime. after studying the tincture of greens, i’d now say shamrock. and it’s this association with clovers and with luck that’s has got me curious about the power of the subconscious, the sudden need that arose to have it back in my possession. it was a high-waisted, knee-length polyester piece that fastened at the side with a single button, had pockets. i found at value village in my twenties on a shopping trip with girlfriends. i liked to pair it with a salmon pink v-neck and a gold sparkly cardigan and felt as succulent as fresh watermelon, summer sliced. the skirt was an effortless piece of clothing; soft and comfortable and bold enough to make a statement. i wore it to my shifts at milk where i ate sesame bagels behind the counter and tried deciphering the grounds left behind in my empty cup. early into my current relationship, i donated it to an area thrift shop in an act of concession; i was a different woman without drinking. less bold, less self-assured. last summer: the urge to go back to that time of nearly two decades ago, cycling around the city and being self-sufficient. and i unexpectedly found a close enough approximate courtesy of j. crew by way of thredup when those feeling percolated in my chest. same color and, this time, scalloped with matching lace overtop, a design that reminded me of my grade eight graduation dress. when it arrived, it didn’t embrace my waist the way i remembered the original doing. nothing i paired with it looked right, whether the top was loose or tight. but i refused to send it back; i would not lose the skirt a second time even if it was too big. i finally capitulated and brought it to my seamstress two weeks ago. she charged me an absurd amount of money to take it in, triple the price of what i paid for it second-hand because of the liner. last night i tried it on for the first time post clothing surgery. it fit like second skin and i became myself again. 220216 ... epitome of incomprehensibility On an unpoetic note, I can corroborate that it's more expensive to adjust clothing if there are multiple fabric layers. I guess because it takes longer. My brother got a way-too-large wool vest at Value Village once - back then he had a thing for patterned vests, the kind Mom called "grandpa vests" - and I was there when he took it to Stich It and asked how much it'd cost. One of the staff people there said fifty dollars (and this was almost ten years ago) because she'd have to adjust the lining too. He decided not to do that and he ended up giving it away. (Mom was glad, because she thought the thing looked silly on him.) ... Not clothes-related, but once I found an old book of mine from university at The Word (a used bookstore). I mean it was the same copy. I recognized my notes in the margins. 220217 what's it to you? who go blather from