Oh Boy.

Ah, almost-spring, that dubiously-pleasant time of year when actual clothing vanishes from department stores, to be replaced by Daisy Duke shorts and unnaturally frilled and florid t-shirts. It's almost enough to kill the joy from the promise of increased sunshine and eventual warmth.

I'm slowly but surely learning to tolerate shorts, honest and for true. I even own a pair, and I've actually worn them. Admittedly, it was under extreme duress and heat stress, and I spent most of the time trying to scrunch my legs up under myself and being painfully aware of my knees, but it's progress. But there's a significant difference between shorts and these.... things that unfortunately populate the departments I wind up having to shop in. I truly don't understand these little wider-than-they-are-long atrocities - noone over twelve actually looks good in them, and noone under that age should be legally allowed to wear them. So... who actually buys them? And does anyone, at any age, look like anything other than a child prostitute in hot pink and black diagonal-striped one-sleeve polyester stretch tops?

Another summer coming up, spent in my thrift-store sundresses and homemade finery. Someday the fashion media will converge with my own personal understanding that the One True Look for summer involves broomstick skirts and tank tops. Until then, I guess I'll just stay out of the stores until autumn and occasionally wince on behalf of the rest of humanity....