The Case of the Emerald Green Pencil Skirt

It was a grey November day ending in “y” and I was just a downtrodden dame on the qui vive for a chunky slab of upholstery-friendly goodness. After ducking into a cavernous fabric-filled warehouse I was wandering around with the other bedraggled nobodies when a bit of lightweight herringbone sashayed in front of me and demanded my help.

It was the last of a bolt, see, and feared for its life.

“Whatever you do, whatever you buy, make sure to get me out of here,” it pleaded. I gave it my thousand-yard stare. “Don’t leave me here to be turned into teddy bear pinafores!” it hissed, pressing its silky smooth weave against my hand.

I turned my back on its lustrous threads and looked over toward the polyester blends, thinking hard about reality, about bills and bank balances. Could I afford to turn it into a something that would do its magnificent drape justice? Not right now, not a chance.

But it was a deep dark cobalt-flecked green, a green that seemed like it would let me say sayonara to summer and hello to spring.

And me, well, I’m a sucker for a green that isn’t afraid to flaunt a moody blue undertone. It’s just how I’m wired, that’s all, and if anyone’s got a problem with that then I’ve got a bunch of fives I’d like them to meet.

So Emerald ended up in my fabric stash.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not copping to being one of those quilting or seamstress types—drop by my place and you’ll find closets full of towels, not textiles. But maybe I have a few things tucked away in a box, yeah. I keep it lithe and light, grab-n-go. Emerald was #2 in my stash, and I figured it could warm up a certain icy blue tropical wool til I knew what to do with one or the both of ’em.

Spring rolled around and I had other problems, other environments—other fabrics—on my mind. I knew I couldn’t two-time them with Emerald without putting us both at risk. But this fall things had changed again. They always do. After I craned my head pretty good around my closet and scrawled a few notes, I thought, “Why don’t I try to make a go of it with the devil and the deep green sea?”

A pencil skirt seemed just the ticket.

I got together some scratch and went to this doll I know, one who’s gotten me out of a few fabric jams in the past. I asked her what she thought about knocking off an old Theory skirt I had, one with curving seams and double vents in the back that made it easy to strut my stuff. She was into it.

I heard Emerald resisted my plans at first—I guess it’d dreamed big ballgown dreams inside that little closed-up box—but eventually it came to see the choice was easy: a pencil or nothing.

Lightweight, 100% wool herringbone skirt in (blue-flecked) green meets its lining

For all the drama, Emerald turns out to be game as hell: it’s raring to be part of less sedate pairings, but settles down to brown without much fuss.

While I have less sedate pairings in mind, who can resist the Gnome-y pairing of green + brown? (and the trippyness of this ancient print?)

A funny thing happened when I put it on, though—a bit of déjà vu:

I guess reading all the Nancy Drew Mystery Stories when I was 6 left a more lasting impression than I realized

Am I wearing a big ole dollar bill from waist to knee? Yes, but thanks to 2 vents vs 1 center vent, I can move super-freely in it

I have to cite Theory's "Golda" skirt as ye olde precedent for how the skirt's curved seams lead to a double-vented back

I admit I’m getting a kick out of dressing like one of my style icons. So much so I’m wondering if I should buy a purse that lets me channel her amateur-sleuth-fabulousness even more.

Am I kitschy enough to traipse around with a purse made from one of my childhood favorites? Hell ya. And Etsy.com seller Retrograndma tempts me....

I’ll ponder it a while longer, but anyone who’s seen my love of kitsch-smothered accessories knows there’s no need to hire a detective to figure out which way the wind is blowing.