Last week on my way home from work I stopped into Target to do a little shopping with an American Express gift card I received for my birthday. First, I pulled out my gift card and checked with a salesperson to make sure they accepted AE. I didn't want to waste my time trying on and selecting veritably cute clothes only to be rejected at the cash register. When the coast was clear, I grabbed a shopping cart and the next 10 or 15 bright/comfortable looking/potentially flattering items. Bricks and mortar shopping wears me out. The decisions, the lines, the mirrors, the hassles, the guilt-I get overwhelmed. No shopping guilt this time as I had FREE MONEY to spend on myself, however I wanted. I wanted something yellow. I wanted a new dress. I wanted the Irish Friendship shirt for $3.50. I needed help.
I don't always know what looks good on me and I definitely don't know how to accessorize. I tried a shirt-dress on and for the life of me couldn't make my mind up as to whether it looked good as in a 50's vintage kind of way or old-fashioned in a Little House on the Prairie kind of way. I enlisted the advice of the young, urban, black, gay staff. (What? I heard them talking about going to gay bars). It took them a minute to give me a once-over and then declare that the questionable dress looked cute on me and that it fit me really well. After a little more scrutiny, I was told to not wear flat shoes or a long necklace with the dress or I would risk looking Amish. Funny, in my mind I'd already picked out the flats I was going to pair with this dress if I bought it. Then I asked my fashionistas/os whether to get the navy or yellow top. After holding each up just below my chin to give them the full effect of how my skin tone played off the saturated colors of the shirts, I was unanimously told to go with the yellow. Because navy blue is just so boring. Secretly I wanted them to pick yellow, and secretly, I kept it to myself that my favorite color in the world to wear is navy.
I gathered up the few things I was buying and the 15 items I wasn't and found the shortest line. When it was time to pay, I couldn't find my gift card. Anywhere. What the? I searched through all the folds in my wallet and in each section of my purse, and I couldn't find the card. The lady put my transaction on hold while I went back to the dressing room to see if I'd dropped it. Someone else was already in there. Crap, I thought, if someone find it laying on the dressing room floor, why would they turn it in? It's just like finding a fifty-dollar bill. I asked my fashionisto if anyone had turned in an AE gift card and he said no. I had to wait until my stall was free, but it wasn't in there. I sat there distressed looking again all through my purse. I looked in my wallet again and then in the zippered part of my purse. Why would a credit card be in the zippered part of my purse? Because earlier on the way to work, contents of my wallet spilled out onto the floor of my car when I hit the gas a little too hard, and the zippered part is where I shoved stuff that I didn't have time to neatly put back into my wallet. Why would contents of my wallet fall out of my wallet if it were snapped shut? Because the snap wouldn't shut because my wallet was too fat with an extra checkbook and too many receipts. Listen, people, it's the story of my life. I'm not organized in too many ways to count and I was mad at myself for my latest misfortune. I may have even muttered the f-word under my breath.
Where could that stupid card be? The one that I'd had in my hands thirty minutes earlier?? Just by chance, I walked by a rack of shirts that I'd looked at and tried on, glanced down to the floor and saw my AE card, all by its lonely, belly up. I grabbed it and went back and flashed it to my fashionisto who was on the phone but signalled a thumbs up, then went back to my line and finished my purchase.
One day my luck is going to run out, but until then, I probably won't change much.
I don't always know what looks good on me and I definitely don't know how to accessorize. I tried a shirt-dress on and for the life of me couldn't make my mind up as to whether it looked good as in a 50's vintage kind of way or old-fashioned in a Little House on the Prairie kind of way. I enlisted the advice of the young, urban, black, gay staff. (What? I heard them talking about going to gay bars). It took them a minute to give me a once-over and then declare that the questionable dress looked cute on me and that it fit me really well. After a little more scrutiny, I was told to not wear flat shoes or a long necklace with the dress or I would risk looking Amish. Funny, in my mind I'd already picked out the flats I was going to pair with this dress if I bought it. Then I asked my fashionistas/os whether to get the navy or yellow top. After holding each up just below my chin to give them the full effect of how my skin tone played off the saturated colors of the shirts, I was unanimously told to go with the yellow. Because navy blue is just so boring. Secretly I wanted them to pick yellow, and secretly, I kept it to myself that my favorite color in the world to wear is navy.
I gathered up the few things I was buying and the 15 items I wasn't and found the shortest line. When it was time to pay, I couldn't find my gift card. Anywhere. What the? I searched through all the folds in my wallet and in each section of my purse, and I couldn't find the card. The lady put my transaction on hold while I went back to the dressing room to see if I'd dropped it. Someone else was already in there. Crap, I thought, if someone find it laying on the dressing room floor, why would they turn it in? It's just like finding a fifty-dollar bill. I asked my fashionisto if anyone had turned in an AE gift card and he said no. I had to wait until my stall was free, but it wasn't in there. I sat there distressed looking again all through my purse. I looked in my wallet again and then in the zippered part of my purse. Why would a credit card be in the zippered part of my purse? Because earlier on the way to work, contents of my wallet spilled out onto the floor of my car when I hit the gas a little too hard, and the zippered part is where I shoved stuff that I didn't have time to neatly put back into my wallet. Why would contents of my wallet fall out of my wallet if it were snapped shut? Because the snap wouldn't shut because my wallet was too fat with an extra checkbook and too many receipts. Listen, people, it's the story of my life. I'm not organized in too many ways to count and I was mad at myself for my latest misfortune. I may have even muttered the f-word under my breath.
Where could that stupid card be? The one that I'd had in my hands thirty minutes earlier?? Just by chance, I walked by a rack of shirts that I'd looked at and tried on, glanced down to the floor and saw my AE card, all by its lonely, belly up. I grabbed it and went back and flashed it to my fashionisto who was on the phone but signalled a thumbs up, then went back to my line and finished my purchase.
One day my luck is going to run out, but until then, I probably won't change much.
4 comments:
I too lack the accessorizing gene. Hi, Sarah. Thanks for being so nice at The Cave when Barton Carroll played. I was wondering if you got Polvo tickets as the show is sold out. I am bummed. If you have any extras or know someone who does, please consider me a worthy person to take them off your hands. I was looking forward to seeing you at the show. BTW, Kim (used to play the French horn) says Hi.
Susannah
That looks like a dress you want to watch basketball in. Perhaps drinking a Newcastle in one of those fold-up camping chairs.
Yes, it was the dress. How come no one took my picture? That's probably the first and the last time someone wearing such an outfit and drinking a Newcastle will sit in those camp chairs. How was my accessorizing? Did I pull off not looking Amish?
You looked professional rather than Amish. And since we won, I would like to request that you keep wearing that dress to future games to keep the mojo going.
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