I was thinking of starting an antibiotic sweepstakes of some sort. Maybe even with a prize of Volterra fennel salt for the best guess of start of season and total number of days dosed up. However, unless you guessed yesterday as the day for the start of Fall Antibiotic Fun, you would be mistaken about when I start my first round of autumnal antibiotics. Nothing like the feel of crunching leaves underfoot, the bracing coolness in the wind, and about 500 cups of tea with a side of antibiotics (and codeine). On the plus side: the Cubs have secured their play-off berth!
Anyway, being sick hasn't stopped me from scoping out gorgeous, crazily priced stuff out on net-a-porter, and, when out and about (well, when I went to pick up my antibiotics), observing that the mania for ruching has run amok.
I saw ruching on the sides of skirts, tops, dresses. At necklines, on sleeves. And then, I passed a woman in a chocolate brown sweater which was seasonal, flattering to her skin tone, except... there was ruching over each nipple.
For a moment, I thought maybe the woman had been trying on clothes and her sweater had gotten caught on her bra cups. And then I realized, no, it was perfectly symmetrical ruching (possibly dense enough to be called pleating). I would guess that the woman wearing the sweater has gotten very accustomed to every single passerby staring intently at her boobs. I am hoping she doesn’t think it’s because the sweater is so wildly flattering that nobody can keep themselves from ogling her rack.
Let me pass on this sartorial warning: enjoy the ruching trend. Done well, it can be interesting and chic. Done badly, it can still pass muster. Over the nipples? Put the sweater on the ground, outside. Douse it in lighter fluid and set the sweater on fire. Please.