And You Haven't Even Kissed Me Yet

Tan criss-cross blouse: Ann Taylor, thrifted * Gray pants: thrifted * Maroon cardigan: Derek Heart, remixed * Jazz shoes: Seychelles, remixed * Belt: Joe's closet * Beaded leather cuffs: Gift from Joe's mom, remixed

Dear High-Waisted Pleated Pants,

I love you. Truly, madly, deeply.

When I first met you, I just wasn't sure. You seemed dangerous, unattainable. I gazed at you from afar, with other girls, convincing myself that you just wouldn't be right with me. You wouldn't deign to get near the likes of me. Those girls, taller, skinnier, with long feminine hair to offset your undeniable masculinity; I wasn't anything like those girls. I guess I just figured I wasn't your type. I never dreamed you'd think twice about a girl like me.

But you know how those things go, High-Waisted Pleated Pants. The more you look, the more you wonder about something, the more you want it. And it eventually was that way with you and me. There came a point when I just couldn't take it anymore. You had to be mine. I had to find out what made you so undeniably fabulous. I wanted to be like those girls, looking wonderfully chic, breezy, happy, with you by their sides. I thought that if I could just have you in my life I'd be magically transformed into one of them.

The first time we were together, like so many first-time romances, it was dangerous, exciting. I had never been with High-Waisted Pleated Pants before, and you felt new and exhilarating. I felt like we were sneaking something, like we were getting away with something daring and new, something that no one had ever tried before. You were my companion in our dangerous game. But no matter the excitement, that first time was scary. You felt new, different, and I was unsure if I'd ever come back to you. Maybe High-Waisted Pleated Pants weren't for me after all. Maybe I'd never understand the true joys of being one with a pair of High-Waisted Pleated Pants. But maybe it was okay that way. Maybe we were meant to be a one-time thing.

But it didn't work. I just couldn't leave. Every time I saw you with someone else I'd think longingly of our time together and think that maybe we should give it another shot, try again. So I found you again, convinced you to come home with me, and now here we are. You just fit me, High-Waisted Pleated Pants. You get me. You know what makes me look good. I feel like a million bucks when I'm with you. You bring out my curves, my sassiness, my shape, my womanliness. I'm comfortable when I'm with you, High-Waisted Pleated Pants, in a way that I haven't been with other Pants. My other Pants feel restrictive compared to you, like they're trying to contain me, keep me hidden. You embrace me, and make me happy to be me. So thank you, High-Waisted Pleated Pants, for being wonderful, flexible, flattering, unusual you. I do love you.

Love,
Clare

p.s. I love how great you look with that knotted belt, High-Waisted Pleated Pants. I would only think to try that with you, and I'm so glad I did.

p.p.s. Oh High-Waisted Pleated Pants, what we have is so great, but we never would have made it to where we are today without the inspiration of some of your other women, this woman in particular. Thanks, Kyla!

p.p.p.s. Some very exciting things are coming up in the next few weeks, so stay tuned!!!

Title song: Bonnie Raitt, "Love Letter"