CLOTHES MAKE THE WOMAN

 I had an entirely discretionary day today.  I slept in until embarrassingly late in the morning and my only thought on waking was:  when I go out, do I take the lovely Bertha with me or not?  I opted to take her (okay, that's my car's name, and it's pronounced in the German manner, Bear-ta, but when I'm making a U  turn in her, I call her the Queen Mary because, like the luxury ocean liner,  she has such a wide turning radius).  I wanted to get the most out of my day.  

First stop was the Manulife Centre, to pick up a book chosen by my book club: The Tennis Partner, by Abraham Verghese.  They didn't have it in stock.  All right, I'll figure that out later, I told myself.  Next stop:  the Art Gallery of Ontario, to see the Pacita Abad exhibit.  She was a textile artist who lived in the Philippines during the Ferdinand Marcos regime and her artworks are huge, handsewn, colourful pieces, very brave politically.  One depicted Marcos and his henchmen eating plastic dolls, representing the ruthless corruption for which he was eventually deposed in, I think, 1976.  Another was a series of pennants sewn of fabrics, newer and older,  which she collected from all over the Philippines, sewn in a seemingly haphazard patchwork style.  Barriers were placed around the pieces, to prevent viewers getting too close and touching the pieces.  They were almost irresistible.

I never let myself view too many exhibits at one time.  It's really disorienting.  Oh!  I should mention that I wore my AGO shoes,  As Portuguesas brand. They were bought for the purpose of  going to galleries with unyielding floors.  They are red, boiled wool, and look a bit like hobbit shoes. 

 I wasn't the least bit tired after all that walking, but I was hungry and took myself down to the Members' Lounge in The Grange for a pot  of tea and a bowl of soup.

Refreshed, I went out and retrieved Bertha from her convenient parking spot on the west side of McCaul Street, headed east on Dundas, past Parliament, to my friend and former neighbour Sanghun Oh's dress shop on Queen Street East.   Having already visited GravityPope on Queen Street West for  a few pairs of shoes last week, I thought I'd be brave enough to try on clothes.  Sanghun's shop is called 290 Ion, but it's at 380 Queen Street East.  Every time I go there, I think I will never find anything, but Sang is just the right sort of shopkeeper for me:  not at all pushy.  I've found some brilliant things there, including the black wool coat dress by Icelandic designer Matthildur that I happened to be wearing today.  While we gabbed about mutual friends, I pawed through her racks, finally shedding my coat dress and standing there in my skivvies (okay, black leggings and t shirt) and tried on a few knit pieces.

Here's what I bought: a knit wool top with a print that suggests I was unsuccessfully feeding a baby an avocado…

…a blue wool cowlneck sweater and a generous light wool scarf…

…and a midnight blue silk-and-cotton knit jacket which (gazing modestly at herself in the mirror) looks fantastic on me.

Now, you may think that’s quite enough of a good day for anyone, but there’s more: when I got home, there was a package waiting outside my door with a brand new book inside, called The Tennis Partner, by Abraham Verghese. I have *no clue* who sent it to me, but a very big thank you to whichever nice person it was. 

This is about all the fall colour I can cope with, but it was my first time clothes shopping in about six years and it was time.