What to wear, what to wear ...
I went to the mall last night after work, seeking out a fabulous frock for Roo's birthday festivities this weekend. We're going to an "atmospheric" restaurant on Friday night called Dante's Down the Hatch - pirates! fondue! pirates making fondue! - and us Sexy Bitches (that would be me, Roo and Teem) have decided to be good girly-girls and play dress-up.
Parties - every woman's excuse to buy new clothes.
The words of the prophet are written on the subway walls, and they say "Highwaygirl does not look good in wrap blouses." The overly-attentive (but nice) sales girl kept feeding me potentials while I was trying on everything and running each item through the necessary paces – raise arms (to check for midriff baring), sit down (to check for spillage), thrust chest out (to check for gappage). I realized that I don't like sweaters all that much, and that my body type can roughly be described as "Fred Flintstone" - all torso, stumpy little legs.
I didn't like anything (except a pair of grey pinstriped pants on sale for $20, down from $50 - pants should stop making me an offer I can't refuse!) and was about to console myself by buying a leather jacket that I don't need, but then the smell of chemically-treated cow skin started making me hallucinate, and I ran for the exit.
Straight into the arms of Auntie Anne's pretzels! How I love them so, those thin, buttery shanks of salted yeasty goodness.
Then to Dillards. I like Dillards because they always have these great 50% off sales, where you can buy Ralph Lauren shirts for only $74 unstead of $149. Sadly, I still can't rationalize dropping $74 on a shirt. My limit is apparently $49, which is the price I paid for a fcute Emma James blouse with french cuffs - I'm pretty sure I'd buy any shirt that had french cuffs. It's some sort of weird Pavlovian reaction at this point - that is "blush pink" with a black pattern that looks vaguely reminscent of the Chanel logo.
PINK, Rappy. I bought something that is pink.
I shall wear it and be a beacon of consumerism; a klieg light of conspicuous consumption.
Then I ran through the Gap to look at scarfs. I am accessories-poor and feel like all that is standing between me and sartorial greatness (and Christian Bale) is a kickass yarn-leash wrapped haphazardly around my neck – but everything was either too stripey or too fuzzy or just too UGH to warrant buying. So I'm still one step short of being an icon(oclast).
That's my goal for this shopping-weekend. Find the Scarf of Sartorial Splendor. That, and a watch.Posted by Highwaygirl on November 17, 2004 11:53 AM to the category Randomness