Embarrassed Zebra

I posted earlier—much earlier—about the importance of finding the right shoes. Much as I hate to admit it (because my tootsies much prefer ratty sneakers), adorable, albeit uncomfortable, shoes can make all the difference to an ensemble. (In other words: if you are wearing the perfect outfit, you've got on the right shoes. I usually prove this logic in converse, and sometimes in Converses.)

But another item of clothing can also play a crucial role in the way an outfit comes—or doesn't come—together.

Sacapuntas

My mother's mother was the quintessential grandmother. She was a sweet woman who never swore, doted on all her grandchildren, took letter-writing very seriously and hostessing even more seriously. (She wasn't the sort to follow you around with an ashtray — that would be intrusive. But when we had grapefruit at the breakfast table, she would get up early to loosen all the segments in her guests' fruit.) She was born in Iowa in 1909. She was religious, but never ostentatious about it. She was what you picture when you picture a grandmother, and I don't think I'm biased here.

So I was really surprised to find this kicky little number among her things.

Excuse me for a second; this wig is all wrong. Yes, the spiraling black curls echo the pencil-sharpening-curlicues of the print...