Poly What?

 I sometimes think about what aspects of myself I would like to see my daughter inherit. Actually let me rephrase that: Sometimes I think about what aspects of myself I would like for my daughter NOT to inherit. Chief among the genetic variations I would like to die with me are my butt's unfortunate ability to make a wedgie from any pair of underpants and an internal thermometer permanently set to high — often resulting in extreme sweatiness. Sadly, the term "diaper wedgie" has been in her vocabulary a year. And on a typical summer day in NYC our whole family looks like we just went swimming though we've been nowhere near a pool. Actually, on any day between the months of April to October you may find us sweating it out alongside our snowsuit-clad neighbors. (Dominicans seemingly get the chills when the temperature drops below 20 C — also the temperature at which my sanity is restored.)

That's the reason I put half the items that catch my eye back on the rack (and the reason I never shop in my neighbourhood): polyester makes me feel like I'm dying. And then I stink. Well, I don't stink. My polyester shirt stinks. It's not surprising considering polyester is basically plastic. 

So it's odd that I brought home this end piece I found in the bin at a fabric store downtown. But I like the bold pattern and colours, and if there's one advantage to polyester it's that the colours never fade.

There was just enough to make a short-sleeved version of the Batwing Top from Burdastyle.com. I'm hoping the airy Dolman sleeves will keep me from sweating my bag off.