Lucky Ladybugs?....or not so much

I slipped into a vintage Lilly skirt this morning, from the highly coveted Size 2 section of the closet…it might be considered just a smidge too short for the office, should clients be in, but they’re not, so as I’m really only dressing for me, today, why not? I paired it with cutie little flats, white sweater, and matching hand bag. (yes. I know. But you know I’m a priss, this is not a shock to you) – however (yes, there really is a point to this email, other than passing along my fabulous fashion sense…and the tedious details that I arrange my closet by dress size – nothing higher than a 6, thank you very much) I have found out some little, shall we say, nuances to this skirt I’d not realized before.

Maybe, as I’d not have the nerve to wear it before – oh, yes. It’s green, corduroy, with grasshoppers embroidered on it. This does matter, in the end run – as it does, indeed, show off quite a good bit of the legs, and, limits my abilities to bed over from the waist. Not that well-bred ladies bend at the waist either.

Anyhoo, I went into the Boston office, rather unexpectedly, and had lunch with L, who adores me, and pushes all my business through faster than anyone else’s, because I went through the effort of getting to know her – used my bosses office, languished though a delivered lunch, missed apparently, the entire The Delivery Guy Is Ogling You (though evidently everyone else noticed) and finally (we are nearing the good part) I picked up all delivered policies, gathered all the other and sundry paperwork I needed and made moves towards the office door.

I admit now, I had rather noticed that the skirt had more, say, stretch to it than I’d thought this morning; but well. It’s been a long day, who am I to complain that I’m not uncomfortable in said frock?

L (and about 14 of the guys we work with) were all standing behind me – when she mentioned something, her eyes bulging out of her head, my cell phone ringing, papers starting to fall as I dug through the damn bag for the phone – when it hits me.

Air.

Lots of air. Skirts are draughty by nature, but this was a stiff breeze blowing round my now exposed knickers.

Yes. My beautiful vintage Lilly Pulitzer skirt, which I adore, has a faulty, pissy, will let go at any time, zipper.

And it did.

Baring my brightly coloured, pink and ladybug underpinnings. To everyone.

I did have quite a few offers of help, to gather the tossed paperwork, policies, errant lipsticks and wallet, keys and whatnot, which scattered to the four corners of the office in my haste to make a futile grab at the fallen, but I’m starting to wonder if they were hoping for a close up look at the ladybugs. No one was really aiming to get the pen that rolled under the sofa, or really, anything that was more than a foot away from me.

I left. Head held high. Swearing, about vintage this and that.

Face as pink as the panties I thought no one would ever see.