So I know I can’t shop for new clothes, but I didn’t say anything about revamping what I already own. Muaha.

Meet my Sevens.

These used to be a dark wash, but being the favorite pair that they are, they’ve faded throughout the wear. I recently bought a pair of dark Guess jeans, but they just aren’t the same (and by that I mean I don’t get nearly as many drinks bought for me in the them). I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t been out in forever, either.

To make matters worse, I really tried to prolong the inevitable with the Guess jeans. I’d wear them twice between washings, I’d wash them inside-out, I’d air dry them. But I couldn’t eat for most of the day in order to wriggle into them every time they were washed. My Sevens never had that problem. My Sevens were glorious! So it was time to take action.

I remembered reading a blog about dyeing jeans and decided to try it myself. I have a habit og half-assing most of my projects, so of course I didn’t take the time to find said blog and follow her directions. Instead I just picked up a box of Navy and Black Rit dye (the only thing I could remember that blogger doing) and prayed for the love of my jeans.

This, obviously, didn’t look good for my jeans. I also half-ass stuff when it comes to measuring, so I wasn’t sure if a bucket of purple was expected when you throw in some dye and salt and start stirring.

When I snagged the boxes of dye I also picked up a nifty tripod for my digital camera, but I still don’t know how to operate it properly. Imagine a very nervous face where my head should be.

Importante: If you’re going to dye stuff (and if you’re as sloppy as I am) you must wear protection! No glove no love, baby. I was a fool to wear one of my favorite t-shirts because now it’s sporting purple speckles. Also, don’t hate on the hair. It was a Sunday, people.

I also picked up a bag of Oreos when I went shopping, which proved to be a great distraction while I waited for my jeans to dye (about 30 minutes). I like to play a game that consists of trying to eat as many cookies as possible before feeling sick/thinking about the caloric intake.

After waiting long enough (I say 30 minutes, but I probably half-ass that, too, and waited seven. I don’t know. However long it takes to eat five Oreos) I rinsed them and checked for purpleness. They were definitely dark, but I was still anxious. I really hoped this wasn’t going to turn out like that time I tried to make curtains for the living room with a stapler and a travel sewing kit.

But behold, I did something right! The color is a little flat, but for a $2 box of dye and plenty of time to fuck around, I think I came out with a new old favorite.

I was recently talking to a friend about our wardrobes (impeccable), my impressive closet space (1o feet with shelves), and the number of dresses residing in said closet now that I’ve finished exchanging my winter wear for spring (over 50, under 100. Barely).

Megan: I have a problem.
Colin: no you don’t. you have a gift.

I keep the best company.

And yet with all of those dresses and skirts and tops and jackets, I still spend a good twenty minutes each morning standing in front of my closet, staring into its depths and proclaiming that I have nothing to wear.

So today I’m beginning a project! I’m promising not to buy a new skirt or dress until I’ve worn everything in my closet. So I’ll be seeing you next year, mkay? Nah, a lot of my dresses are considered “special occasion,” so unless I’m going to the opera, attending a gallery opening, or accepting an engagement ring, I unfortunately won’t be able to show you all of them.

Everyone has an engagement dress, right? Anyone? Hello?

Editor’s Note: This is not my impersonation of a “pain” pose as seen on ANTM last night, but rather me simply fixing my bra strap and being too lazy to take another picture.

Also, I don’t wear this much fucking brown. Or that much Ann Taylor. What a boring way to start this project.