Wreaking Havoc

I'm told that growing up in New Zealand during the 1970s was in fact like winding back the clock at least 30 years.
I wouldn't know about that, I was just there and didn't know any different.
I wore the cable-knit cardigans, duffle coats, patent mary-janes and kilt pinafores.
I still have a terrible weakness for those same scratchy, heavy and pinching wardrobe items - I can't explain it.
Normally I won't tolerate any discomfort whatsoever - but I'm prepared to put up with a heavy kilt.
But I won't abide any kilt granny-fication.
So when my favourite kilt - if you know the tartan, please sing out - was recently discovered with several moth holes in it, I gnashed, screeched and sulked before popping it in a plastic bag and into the freezer for a few days.
I read the cold kills eggs and larvae.
Evidence of the little bastards' activities.

It was a sign that it was time to do something about making the kilt more wearable.  
I bought it about three years ago and had never worn it - too long and I felt like a granny in it - just loved the colours.
So after the moth-munch, I umm-ed and aah-ed for about two weeks, spent hours last week hemming and pressing the knife pleats to shorten it, thereby disguising the holes.

Until this morning when I took the scissors to it and walloped six inches off the hem.

It got rid of the moth holes (front and back - the little shits!), resulting in a new skirt that I wore straight away.
I've fallen in love with my "new" kilt.
In a way the moths forced my hand.  I loved the kilt but wouldn't wear it at calf length.
It can take me years to get up the courage to change a vintage garment dramatically.
Normally if I don't think a refashion will work, I sell pieces on eBay.
But in this case, creating a huge hem made the kilt bulky, so a chop, zig-zag and 1cm hem later and I was off out the door in my new pride and joy.
I'm wearing it with my Norma Kamali OMO leather vest, 1930s chemise and Docs.  The little 1960s red, vinyl handbag accompanied me out to scour op-shops today.

Accessories close-up time:
My favourite beaten-up old, leopard-print velvet hat; vintage pearls and ropes; 1930s earrings; thrifted plastic bangles.

Doesn't Jean Harlow make simply everything look beautiful?