My parents had a copy of the out of print Preppy Handbook floating around the house while I was growing up and admittedly, the book fascinated me. It explained so much about those two, my parents. Such as why, as a Sweet Briar College girl, my mother was apparently known as "Little Miss Pink and Green." Because Sweet Briar is a southern womens' college, the students of the early 1970's were apparently endlessly cute and feminine, much more so than at Mt. Holyoke, or even Hollins across the mountains. At least according to the book. I've never been to either and only briefly visited SBC (after 13 years of girls school, I high-tailed it someplace co-ed, giving nary a thought to womens' colleges).
And though I may not have completely escaped the world of preppy-dom since I still own 1) A Barbour jacket 2) Wellington rubber boots and 3) Have a JCrew credit card, I like to think of myself as Patagonia Prep, not so much Lilly Pulitzer, or bascially anything that reminds me of rainbow shebert, twin sets and Kate Spade bags in kelly green.
How, then did I end up with this material for my skirt that is so completely pink and green? How did this happen? Have I been in Virginia for too long? Next thing you know you'll see me at Foxfield teetering around on kitten heels in the sod, mimosa in hand and arms getting rapidly sunburnt. Except that I think the mountain man might haul me back to West Virginia to climb, so perhaps I'll escape that fate. And I am excited about my skirt. I still think that the layered panels with their frayed edges will counter the sweetness of the print.
Here's today's photo, quite green:
Did I mention that there were redbuds and pink dogwoods in bloom everywhere in Sugar Hollow today too? Maybe it's some form of geographic determinism: spring buds and flowering trees make it practically impossible not to adopt the pink and green motif. I'm still going to have to find a way to be midly ironic about it. Seriously.