Thus far, I haven’t had too much TGAAD-related angst. I suspect that this is partially attributable to the fact that I am not nearly as fabulous as the rest of you. In addition, as a particularly tall drink of water, I have trouble finding clothes, which has had the effect of lowering my fashion expectations. I tend to peruse the windows at Anthropologie or Nordy’s or Barney’s, ogle the fantastic duds, and then remember that I am several orders of magnitude larger than the mannequins. Any cravings are quickly quashed.
But I have been in a rut, clothing-wise. The combination of a pre-TGAAD closet purge, a desire to get the most out of my “investment” pieces, and general laziness led me to adopt a uniform, of sorts: long sleeved T, a (theoretically interesting) sweater, jeans (to roll or not to roll, that was my question), boots, and a (theoretically interesting) accessory. When I was in the office, I would grab a sweater or shift dress, gussy it up with some accessories and – if I was feeling really crazy – patterned tights. Easy-peasy.
As a result, many of the inhabitants of my closet (my seriously edited/considerably more spacious/no reinforcements arriving anytime soon closet) were neglected. And I was setting myself up for failure. I realized that if I stuck with the uniform over the upcoming 7 months of fall/winter/fake spring, (a) my clothes would disintegrate and (b) I would fall off the proverbial wagon.
So, this morning I reached into my closet and pulled out the thing I wear the least: a black wool and cotton dress, strapless (bear with me), with a fitted corset and a bubble skirt. I bought it at Baby & Co. when I still could shop at Baby & Co.; it’s by a Danish label called Bitte Kai Rand. It is architectural and unique and really fun to wear; I usually pair it with a white t-shirt, tights and boots. I don’t break it out more because it is a polarizing piece: people either compliment me on it or look at me like I’m from space (sometimes they do both).
I put it on this morning and marched downstairs. My husband told me I looked like a kick ass German chick. Danish, I replied. Crisis averted, at least for one more day.
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