Here’s the thing: I HATE shopping. I would rather go to the gym, or the dentist, than the mall. The air in department stores gives me an instant headache. And the clothes are so awful. Why is everything tight and covered in sparkles? I am way too old to dress like a slutty teenager. Why is the fabric now so thin we are forced to layer? I hate layering. Why are the ’80’s back? I’m sorry, but no one looks good in skinny jeans… not even skinny people.
And so I add to my wardrobe just about as often as Texas schools get funding. If it wasn’t for my mom giving me her castoffs, I would be dressed in rags. (That’s not as lame as it sounds, since my mom has much more fashion sense than I do. ) What I would really love is if we all just wore uniforms. Or, had one outfit for work and one for fancy occasions, like Laura Ingalls. Or the branded roll of plastic outfits, like in Idiocracy. Just imagine how much time we’d save without all that laundry. Just imagine the demise of the sweatshop clothing factory. Surely we can make a case for killing the fashion industry in the name of social justice. No?
No. That will never fly. Clothing is self expression, fashion is art, blah blah blah. And how else will we know who is uber-hip or hopelessly uncool? I guess I must go shopping. The truth is, I have exactly 3 t-shirts without kid-induced stains. I wear these with my one pair of jeans or one of my 2 pairs of capris. I have 5 skirts, but my 5 shirts only match 2 of them. And lets not mention the unmentionables… except to say that I haven’t bought a new bra since Graham quit nursing years ago. (Yes, mamas, I see you out there, shaking your heads in disbelief.)
So this is the sorry state of my (walk-in?) closet.
On the top right rack are Rob’s shirts. Below that is a mini set of drawers and my shirts. About a quarter of the left side is Rob’s slacks. A quarter is my lonely skirts. The last half is the ironing board and a mix of clothes I will most likely never wear: my wedding dress, 2 suits, dress slacks, a kimono, etc.
Clearly what I need is a personal shopper. I just want someone to buy a bunch of crap that doesn’t suck and also doesn’t fit only women shaped like 13 year old boys, bring the purchases home to me, babysit the kids while I try everything on, tell me I look great, and return the unwanted items. Surely I am not the only one out there who would love this service. Couldn’t we just pool our resources and hire them? Failing that, we will just have to all band together to start a Laura Ingalls trend by wearing one gingham dress and an apron all week. Who’s with me?
Sunday is wash day.