When our youngest daughter graduated from a toddler bed to a “big girl bed,” my husband and I threw
wads of cash caution to the wind and gave the best room in our house a complete overhaul. This was around 2007 and in case you didn’t know, pink-and-brown as a color combo was everything that year. Picture it, please: Thick, buttery, chocolate shag carpeting; dusty pink walls (forty-seven-sample-quarts-later but whatever it was perfect); matching beds piled high with pillows and throws in every shade from cocoa to coffee; every hue between blush and bashful.
My mom gave them a tissue holder (as grandmas do) for this new room we dubbed Fairytopia, a gift that might have had slightly less allure had I not discovered that Kleenex actually makes… wait for it… pink tissues.
You legit would have thought these nose-blowers were made out of spun gold for the excitement of it all.
All I’m saying is, we like pink in my house, okay? (Or as my husband likes to say, “Pink puked all over my life.” Semantics.)
I share this bit of family history because I think it might help explain this?
I can’t remember the last time I put on a sporty corduroy (oh yeah; it’s corduroy) blazer and went, well, anywhere. And since I work at home–and have for more than twenty years–ostensibly I’d have been wearing this one for casual outings, like going shopping or out for dinner or to sell Mary Kay.
As inexplicable as this may seem seeing as I just pulled this from my closet, I DO NOT SELL MARY KAY.
I also do not wear this blazer.