Undressed

Every Sunday night I step into my closet to plan my wardrobe for the work week.  The outfits I pick are based on a number of factors: what meetings are scheduled, if it's after Labor Day, how high the AC will be running in my office, and, of course, how good my pedicure is holding up for open-toe shoes.  Now, I don't hold myself strictly accountable in case I do something silly like plan to wear a polo with khakis on a day that's not a Friday.

This little exercise usually makes my mornings go a bit smoother. Even though there's no more pouring Fruity Pebbles for the kids, I do have a number of other duties to conquer in the morning: exercise, vetsulin shots for Percy, prayers, shower, makeup, Gayle King, etc. Sometimes there's a hitch that throws my schedule off. The dog pukes in the garage. The cat needs my love more than ever. The hubby needs my love more than ever. But the biggest hitch to my morning routine seems to be when an outfit doesn't come together. And, as you already know, this is after I've already planned it out! 

I've never been accused of having OCD. Anyone who has opened my cupboards knows this. But I wonder if have a bit of a disorder when comes to attire. Take this morning for example.

Because I knew it was going to be a little cooler today, I was excited to wear my new plaid dress pants from the rubi j store (a charming boutique in DT Harlan, Iowa*). But when I put on the shirt I wanted to wear with said pants, I was sorely disappointed with the sight before me. A gut and a muffin top was all I could see. "What in the hell good did all this summer running do?" I said to myself. So, after berating my middle-aged self, I whipped it off to regroup. A voice from the bed (which has a clear visual into the closet) told me I should probably consider changing my bra as well. While I appreciated the suggestion, I didn't have time to reconsider my underclothes. I had a shirt to find.

Next shirt: Same color (off white). Slightly different style. Same result. Yes, the definition of idiocy is doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result. Thank you Mr. Einstein.

Next shirt: Orange, perhaps to celebrate the first day of fall? It sure seemed like a good idea until I put it on and became a pumpkin-pie-headed freak.

I began to panic, and went back to my original choice. Maybe I was being too hard on myself. I was not.

Finally, in the deep recesses of my closet, I found a cute dusty rose camisole that passed inspection. It did require a strapless bra (to go over my non-strapless bra) because it was a little low cut. Not a problem. Finally, it was ago.

I was off to work, speeding happily on M16 when I happened to look down and noticed my strapless bra slipping, slipping, slipping. It had fallen to my stomach. I had no choice. I had to zip back home and change into a different, more reliable strapless bra that Doug was quick to help me find. (Such a sport...)

Five minutes later...

I was back on to M16, happily speeding once again when I looked at the color of the ponytail holder on my wrist. Horrors. I grabbed a brown one. You see, all my accent colors were black. I glanced at the clock and made an important decision. I'd have to let this one go. Chances were I wouldn't even use the ponytail holder.

Now, I'm a fairly rational and somewhat intelligent person. I read the news and understand that there are issues in the world that matter and what I wear to work on any given day isn't going to help Haitian refugees.

But here's the deal. We are all just human. And sometimes we cling on to those little things that give us a sliver of creative control, even if it does take several iterations to get it right. I'll tell you one thing about it: my hubby never seems to mind.

*shameless plug for my mother's store

Ah! Family Picture Day.
That was a good day to plan an outfit.

Tales from #TheDressmaker

One of my mom's favorite sayings is "Nothing perks you up like a piece of fabric." This mantra has been ever-present since the time my mother would either use her seamstress skills or whisk me off on a weekend shopping trip to ensure her only daughter had a plentiful wardrobe. Often I think about my affinity for a trendy coat or a new pair jeans and wonder. Is this vanity? This need to replenish my closet with something new anytime I notice an empty hanger?

My best friend Amy also likes to shop. Throughout the years, we have sketched out several shopping trip plans. Kansas City. New York. Chicago, This year, this has translated into two days. Once in Harlan and the other in Gretna. If you'd ask either of our husbands, they'd estimate we do this every week. But they are quite mistaken. Two times this year. One of those days happened to be last Monday to honor that wonderful celebration called Columbus Day. Whether we were moved by the explorer's historical significance, or enriched by the quick dash to the city, we're unsure. But I am certain our spirits were lifted.

Here's a quick summary of the day:

• Discovered Nebraska Crossing Outlets by Gretna with its infinitude of stores. As we drove around with our mouths agape, it felt just a little like hitting the jackpot. Gap. J Crew. Loft. Fossil! We were most likely going to do some damage. My credit card was bouncing in my purse.
• Dashed through some rain (didn't melt). Hit Nike first. The stop was practically an obligation. Kind of like a Target stop for toilet paper. We'd be able to pick up a few guilt purchases for our kids AND pick out those pieces which would either inspire us to workout or allow us to hangout in sweats just a little more than we already do.
• Dashed through more rain (now pellets). Landed in Michael Kohrs. Amy needed a purse. I had no intentions of making a purchase since I had just bought a purse which I love, but that store was kinda neat. Not only did Amy find a show-stopping suede purse and I find a pair of maroon-jeans that actually fit, we got our merchandise for more than 50% off. Jackpot fer sure.
• Unbelievably, it had become decision time. Time was flying at Mach speed. We had only made it two stores. But there was this movie, you see. A MOVIE! A movie without the requirement of action or gore. A chic-flick! We decided to cash in on our good fortune and head to the big-screen. Popcorn, candy and Diet Coke would become our most satisfying lunch.

Stef and Amy

We saw The Dressmaker starring Kate Winslet who was amazing and beautiful as a, wait for it...dressmaker. She returns to her gritty hometown in Australia to uncover a great secret of her past and the town's past. (Beyond the engaging plot, witty banter, and colorful attire, there's quite a bonus in this movie: Liam freaking Hemsworth.) One particular scene captured the spirit of our shopping day when the dusty, colorless town suddenly becomes garnished by ladies in extravagant evening gowns, just going about their daily business. This all made for good comedy; but I couldn't help but observe and relate how the attitude of the women had been transformed into an appealing confidence. The power of fabric.

Perhaps there is a sliver of vanity in wanting new clothes. But I think there's more to it. None of that day would've been much fun if I had been by myself. Whenever I decide to break out my new maroon jeans, I'll be reminded of the fun day I shared with Amy. And I can't help but think a piece of fabric not only revives the spirit, but connects people. It fuels friendships. It's only fitting my mother operates a clothing boutique as her retirement gig. She's not just surrounded by fabric–something she loves, but she's surrounded by people–old and new friends.

Mom should probably revise her saying:

Nothing perks you up like a piece of fabric–or a good friend–or a good friend with a new piece of fabric.