You guys you guys! It was the Santa Claus parade here today. And I LOVE it. Floats and The Fat Man In Red and crowds and freezing one's caboose off. I genuinely heart it.
(We saw our first Santa Claus parade here in Toronto, it just so happens that both apartments we have lived in in this city have been spitting distance to the parade route. Co-ince-a-dink? Yah, but still!)
At any rate the parade always makes me feel a bit Miracle on 34th Street. Which this year meant dressing in a vaguely vintagey way. See:
Not quite 1947, or Maureen O'hara (hellFIRE but that girl was cute!) but I felt in the spirit of the thing. So I'm calling it a win.
I also got to wear my new mustard yellow Cardi, which is actually what I wanted to talk about.
This yellow cardi has been slowly making it's way to me for MONTHS. Months I tell you!
It all started in late September when I saw this:
It was a poster for Coach (the handbag company, not the means of transport) on a bus stop on Bay St. I walked past it then had to turn the kid and the pooch around and stare at it for a while, all mesmerized.
"Look" it whispered, all seductively like, "Winter doesn't have to be totally bogus, there can be thick tights, and cardigans that are awesome and skirts and skipping in exotic locations and stuff. Come on Erin, it'll be funtimes".
"Oooou" I replied.
You guys. It had me. And I'm not easily had by high-end advertising (or mainstream fashion stuff).
Now of course I wasn't going to go out and actually shop at Coach. Heh. That would be crazy. But I did make myself a skirt. This one here:
McCalls M4783, (which is the bomb BTW).
And I've been wearing purple leggings with everything. But the cardi escaped me. I've only just weaned myself of an mostly black wardrobe, and I didn't own anything yellow. at all.
(hoo boy this is a rambly post, I do have a point and I'm making my way to it, honest.)
So, I'd been keeping my eyeballs peeled for a mustard yellow cardi. Or scarf or pretty much anything really. Anyhow I went into Winners this Saturday with a kid-free half hour and a burfday gift card (exempt from WR!) burning a hole in my pocket. And there's a guy standing by the door clutching a gift box of perfume, and I was all,
"Huh. That guy's about to boost that".
And then he did.
So I went and found the security guard and I told him. Because I HATE shoplifters and screw Mr. Paris Hilton Heiress Gift Set.
Anyway, apparently the sparkly unicorn of serendipitous shopping likes a tattle tale because my new mustard yellow cardi was the first thing I saw when I turned around. Karma? Who knows.