If my closet is a tranquil retreat, then my craft room is a cave of chaos. Just kidding. It's pretty tranquil there, too. I spend many a happy hour soaking in its colorful comfort, making stuff and watching TV. This is what I look like when I'm at it:
Very different from my coiffed pics, I know. The husband took the first and third outfit pics just this past week. There was something kind of funny about changing out of my quarantine couture (i.e., pjs) into real clothes, makeup and all, then scrubbing my face and putting my pjs back on. Funny and satisfying, like I had the best of both worlds. And like I was putting something over on the world, too.
Remember our pal Tammy Torso? My true blue (and red and yellow and green . . .) outfit model? Now that I photograph my outfits on the floor (and on myself), she's joined the ranks of the retired. Which means that she gets to live a life of leisure next to my stock boxes, forever clad in two crinolines and an old crop top that never quite fit.
No doubt about it, having a room (or two) of one's own is sweet. That's why Cheryl is so upset when her she-shed burns down in that Allstate commercial. I know that I'm super grateful for my rooms and all the peace they give me.
Because every woman needs a place where she can hide out from the world for awhile.
And also stash her mannequin.