Girls Only: Holiday Dresses
Warning: This is a silly thing to write about.
OK, today I bit the bullet and went to Macy’s to find the perfect cheap holiday dress for tomorrow night’s company Christmas party. I was reminded how stupid it is to go shopping alone for something as important (ha!) as a holiday party dress. I sorely missed the company of Fosseelovechild and Kimkimkaree–the kind souls whom I’ve dragged along to the mall with me in past years.
I happened to know of a big sale and had an extra 10% coupon with me. I went first to the juniors section ’cause sometimes when I cruise by on my way elsewhere, the dresses catch my eye. I can tell you, everything seems to have extra flash this year: sequins, hulking rhinestones, and ruffles that really belong on a male flamenco dancer’s sleeves. I thought, well, maybe I can do flash. Who knows? The first six dresses I chose to try on were stupid, ludicrous, too young, too flouncy, too roomy in the chest, etc.
I gave up and went upstairs to the women’s department. There, everything is old! Billions of beads on every garment, and anything with beads on it is in the hundreds of dollars. This is, of course, entirely out of the question. What’s more, I can’t shake the feeling that some poor old woman in Taiwan or Indonesia went blind sewing these beads on. Even the “little black dresses” with little ornamentation were like $150! And really, I think I only saw a couple of racks from which to choose.
I dejectedly rode the escalator back down to juniors. I decided I’d wander through the racks again looking for the simplest of frocks. I found a couple. I guess they were so simple they didn’t catch my eye when I went through the first time. Tried them on. They fit. I couldn’t decided between the black one or the gold one.
My practical mental advisor said, “You already have a black dress. Why waste money on getting another one? Choose the gold.”
My frivolous mental advisor said, “If you buy the gold dress, you will have to buy new shoes too. Yay!”
Practical said, “That’s stupid. You have black shoes already.” Madame Practical seemed to be contradicting herself.
Stymied, I opened the door and asked the opinions of a group of four women who were also in the dressing room. They made me try on both dresses for them. I told them that I’m 33 years old and they shouldn’t let me pick something too young-looking. When I put on the black one, they all said “Aaah.”
I came home with another little black dress.
