In the process of shooting this lük, I was aggressively stalked by a bee with a death wish, had to stop every five minutes to reapply band-aids to my feet (who now hate me and have vowed never to speak to me again), and was yelled at by an elderly gentleman with the looks of Santa and the personality of Count Olaf.
Easy. Breezy. Beautiful. Kumquat.
My quest for the perfect jorts has been an arduous one. Like any high schooler who worshipped at the church of UGG and Abercrombie, I dutifully went through a short-shorts phase which is hereinafter known as the Dark Ages. I dabbled in high-waisted disasters that invited camel toes and accidental ass flashing because I could never get the hem right whilst DIYing my thrift store finds. Most recently, I tried rolling up the hems and wearing them a tad longer because I felt they made me look more mature. They didn’t. They made me look like I was wearing a diaper because the roll had created an unfortunately-placed air bubble.
So here’s my latest attempt: The mom jort. I love the 9″ zipper and casual front pleats!
I’ve still got a few details to iron out (like the creased pocket. No seriously, has anyone seen my iron) but generally speaking I think they’re my most successful jorts yet. Quick, someone get me a minivan and a calcium supplement! I’ve hit middle age and have never been happier.
I was initially going to go simple with this and just wear a white tee, but a little voice inside me whispered you haven’t suffered enough today, why not try long sleeves in the 35C heatwave? So I did, instead pairing my mom jorts with a loose chiffon top whose balloon sleeves boast a level of drama paralleled only by the Kardashians.
Also featured: the shoes from sartorial hell which may look cute but left me literally limping through the band-aid aisle at Duane Reade, and a fun little neckerchief I tied around my ponytail because I’m whimsical as fuck. And also maybe because I’m still riding out the retro-Italian vibes from this post.
P.S. how great is this bag? I love it so much that I might get it its own shelf. It’s another honest-to-goodness vintage find c/o my family (who at this point are responsible for 98% of my clothes) and it is giving me major 60s flashbacks. Not literal flashbacks, because I’m 23, but you know what I mean.