a rash of alterations

Each time I alter a garment I feel inordinately virtuous, because I hate to do it. I would rather make something from scratch than redo a hem or sew on a button. Bizarre but true. Therefore I am extremely proud to relate that yesterday I shortened *three* skirts, transforming floor-length lampshade styles into pretty garments which reveal the fact that I have not only ankles, but calves. (Did I mention that I am short?) Some of these skirts are simply Useful, but one is a recent gift from Mom, a wild striped bias-cut thing with an asymmetrical flounce. Fun. Flirtatious. Perhaps even in style.