I've been wondering, where's the chick that can rattle off the middle name of a celebrity's baby on the drop of dime? What happened to my memory that allowed me to colorfully describe the ingredients and measurements of my favorite cocktail?
Why can I remember your favorite type of greek yogurt; the number of times you like to press the "door close" button in the elevator; the name of the friend that you always have animated phone conversations with in the hallway; and on which day you wear your baseball hat, but I cannot remember your little, two syllable name.
This has been happening a lot.
So, in lieu of names, I remember people by habits and outstanding characteristics. I figure, especially since I'm the new girl (or new-ish girl) that people probably don't remember mine either.
This got me to thinking that they must be labeling me some other way. I thought about what could be defining me.
My label might be the-girl-with-the-grande-latte, the-girl-that-looks-half-awake-every-morning, the-girl-that-drinks-obscene-amounts-of-water, the-girl-that-keeps-her-cell-in-her-lap-at-all-times, the-girl-that-sneezes-like-a-dwarf-squirrel, or a collection of other things. And while these labels are all possible, it's clear to me what my most outstanding habit is: wearing crazy prints.
I am The Crazy Print Lady.
I've worn leopard; stripes; good and plenty patterns; polka dots; navajo prints; african tribal prints; herringbone; gingham; plaid; etc.
You name it, I've worn it in the last four weeks. And I've probably worn it with another print at the same time.
So, this post is coming to you, courtesy of your friend, The Crazy Print Lady. I hope you enjoy the inspiration.
And I hope if you go print crazy this weekend that you might think of me. You don't need to remember my name. My label will do.
PS happy friday to you. I hope you avoid hangovers, pot holes and snagged tights.
See you soon.
PPS, which print is your favorite?