I should try to live by the immortal words of Edith Piaf and not regret anything. Je ne regrette rien, n’est-ce pas?
And for the most part, I haven’t got any. But when I do, they sure are doozies. And they never let me forget.
Take this skirt, for example. (Warning: looong story ahead.) This skirt was big two years ago. Like, blogoverse big. I think it started with a Kate Spade original and then it took off – kinda like the J. Crew bubble necklace or herringbone vest – and knock-offs abounded. I knew I had to grab one, but I either couldn’t afford the good replicas or couldn’t fit into the less expensive ones from overseas.
I’d despaired of acquiring one when, toward the end of its big run – and I still remember this quite clearly – I saw a replica in the francesca’s storefront on my way back from doing brick and mortar Christmas shopping.
(I blame it on my husband who really wanted a particular scent from L’Occitane and it wasn’t available online.)
Anyhoo, I had the cologne in hand and was scurrying to my car when lo and behold! There was this skirt. And it was marked “sale”! People, I didn’t even bother trying it on. I grabbed the last one in my size and plunked down my $45 and gleefully took the damned thing home, all giddy with blogoverse fever.
Sadly – and those of you in possession of these knock-offs know this – this skirt is a bear to wear. Why? Because the material is actually banded pieces of elastic. So it doesn’t drape. It sticks out like an umbrella. And it’s got pleats. So it sticks out even more. You can imagine how this uber stick-out factor exacerbates the miniskirt effect. I felt practically naked in it.
Now remember, I was already $45 in – way more than I’d normally pay for something like this. But francesca’s has a piss poor return policy (exchanges only, no returns) and I didn’t want to mess with management, so I decided to keep it and “make do”, which in this case was to ask my genius seamstress to add some material to the bottom to make it less scandalous.
I paid her $20 to do this.
She added tulle like we discussed, but because the tulle she chose was so stiff, I nearly suffered blood loss from all the scratches I received on the backs of my knees when I wore it for the first time. Hyperbole? Maybe. But I was in pain and it might as well have been true.
At this point, I seriously considered throwing it up on eBay for auction, but it’d been so long since I’d bought it, and now even Target’s junior label Xhilaration had a version of it for half what I’d originally paid. It wasn’t worth it to try to sell.
So what did I do? Back to the seamstress it went. For another $10, I got her to add one more layer of tulle with a satin band at the edge to minimize the abrasiveness. And now, yes, it doesn’t hurt anymore. But I still look like an umbrella – albeit a more modest one – the skirt has cost me a whopping $75, and I’m still not fully satisfied with it. I feel like ripping off the tulle and wearing it as it was initially and just utilizing tights to keep me work appropriate, but with so much good money thrown after bad, I figure I’d better just leave well enough alone.
Edith Piaf, I’m sorry, but I regret buying this skirt.
The only thing that makes me happy is pairing it with a pair of TARDIS blue tights. But it sure feels like cold comfort…
:: Just the facts, ma’am ::
Top – H&M
Jacket – F21
Skirt – francesca’s
Pumps – Janine @ Payless
:: Grooveshark it ::
One Headlight by The Wallflowers