How many times can you repeat the same story without burning out precious brain matter? The gods were kind enough to crack my ankle, giving me much needed "alone" time to work, and opening my eyes to the endless fashion possibilities of the temporarily injured. About four weeks into my slow recovery from a broken foot and ankle of September 16, I got really bored explaining "What happened" to every person I saw.
At first I told the truth--"NYC streets. Tripped on my chunky platform heels..." Then, during the recent brutality season of Katrina and the Waves, I'd look down at my foot and reply proudly, "Yeah, surfing accident." Now that surf is winding down, and the air is crisp, and I've gone from a cast to a boot, I've changed my story with the season. "Wiped out on my bike, totally demolished it... "
Fashion wise, I've gone from a sunny surfy look--colorful sarongs, Hawaiian shirt and a green wrapped cast, to a slick leather jacket (sleeve) and a tough black boot (circa Mad Max). If this drags on into December, I'll be in a red parka with matching knitted ski cap, "Skiing...yeah, Utah..."