I wanted to look like an Easter Egg. I tried to look like an Easter Egg. But I couldn’t do it. I’m just not an Easter Egg, no matter how much I want to be.
What am I talking about? Clothes shopping. More specifically, spring/summer clothes shopping.
As you are all well aware, Darling Husband and I are
cheap thrifty. We are stingy smart with our money.
Since we’re so
cheap economical, we don’t like to spend a lot on clothes. I don’t know what Darling Husband’s excuse is for not buying decent clothing because he’s a guy and wears the same clothes every day of his life. He could actually buy a good quality shirt and keep wearing it until 2043. If he’d pony up the extra cash for material that doesn’t fray after a season, no one would ever know how old the shirt is. That’s how easy men have it.
It’s different for women, especially women with short attention spans, like me. The reason that I buy cheap clothes is that I get bored with my clothes and want something different, so I don’t mind if they wear out after a couple of years. Why spend a bunch of money on something I won’t want to wear by 2015?
This means I head out about twice a year to refresh the wardrobe.
And every spring I try very hard to be an Easter Egg, but it just never works out for me.
On Sunday I headed out to the outlets and started at Maurices*. Oh heaven! One look in there and it’s like being inside of one of those sugar egg dioramas. Do you remember those? Why haven’t I seen one of those in a while? Do they still make them? They’re eggs made out of sugar, covered with frosting, and the insides have a little 3D scene of bunnies or chicks made out of candy. Google images for ‘sugar egg diorama’ for examples.
Maurices is like a sugar egg diorama. All the clothes are sweet and girly and pink and purple and everything has ruffles and flounces all over it. Maybe this year I would finally look good in pink, frothy clothing. One can always hope, anyway. So I gathered up all the frilly, ruffly, pastel colored clothing I could fit over my arm and headed to the fitting room.
First, here is what I wore going in.
When I go shopping I wear something I like so I can see whether the outfit I’m trying on looks as good to me as the outfit I’m shopping in.
Note the dark colors and marked lack of frills. Also note that I haven’t edited any of these pictures, so they’re not the things of visual wonder you’re used to seeing from me.
First up: an Easter Egg Yellow dress.
Um….maybe….how about the back?
No. It’s too thin and makes me look like I have a lumpy butt. Of course I don’t actually have a lumpy butt (ahem.) But it makes it look like I do. Just say No to lumpy-butt dresses!
Easter Egg Purple top with a cute bow.
Feels like lingerie. Maybe not to anyone else, but it does to me. I don’t wanna wear lingerie around town.
Nope. Just not me. Not sure why not. I just can’t seem to carry off a lot of busyness in my clothing.
Something a little less fluffy?
I sort of liked this one, but it’s obviously much too small. They didn’t have the next size up, and the size after that was too large. Oh well. Moving on…
I like this button down shirt. I tend to be able to wear button down shirts pretty well. I think most people can as long as they don’t floof out in the back and make you look really thick.
Turned to check. Um. It didn’t floof out in the back, but the back of the shirt was lace. See through lace. Nope. No see-through clothes at my age. Not gonna happen.
No. No bat wings for me.
Another sort of button down shirt?
No, I look utterly ridiculous in that shirt. How about pretty blue?
Oh, dang it! Almost. I kinda like this one except for the saggy boob part. I don’t like wearing saggy boob shirts. And I’m not gonna try to figure out how to have it altered, so back on the rack it goes.
One last chance at a dress with a nice bird pattern.
Let’s move to another store: Old Lady.
They had a bunch of button down shirts at Old Lady, but apparently the 80’s are back with their big blowzy shirts. I look like a big balloon in big blowzy shirts. I managed to find a normal-looking button down shirt.
But it doesn’t quite fit the way I like button down shirts to fit. It’s too square. I am not square shaped. Back on the rack.
And this, my friends, is why I’m not a model:
Models have to be able to wear pretty much anything and look good in it. I do not look good in this dress.
Drab olive green shirt.
Hey! I look awesome in drab olive green! And thus, my Easter Egg dreams are toppled. Oh well. At least there’s a hint of ruffle in the shirt.
I bought it.
Might as well get some tshirts while I’m there. In red. (One of my best colors.)
And kelly green.
That doesn’t look kelly green. Gerhard, why doens’t it look kelly green on my camera??
A new store. Dress Barn. Because I want a dress. No, actually I want a skirt. Every year I try to find at least one skirt that fits. They’re nice in the summer.
How about this one? (With the black t-shirt I got at Old Lady.)
That looks nice on me! Sure does, if I want to stand in one spot all day. The thing was oddly tight. I had to take tiny mincing steps to beetle across the fitting room. No. I can’t live my life beetling around the house.
Ok–get ready for this one because it’s not something I’d normally get, but in the end I did.
A long shapeless tablecloth skirt. Yup! I got it. No, it’s not the most flattering on me, but I needed something that’s cool in the summer that I can run around in with the kids.
And for fun, I tried one more Easter Egg shirt.
No. It’s not me. It reminds me of my maternity clothes–especially because it tied in the back.
On to Van Heusen. Ooo! Pricey! Nah–outlets, remember? They have ‘markdown sales!’ Everything is always $80 off the original price.
I tried on the polka dots. I have a soft spot for polka dots. I met my husband wearing a polka dot shirt.
It’s ok. How about something in pastel:
I liked this one better than the polka dots. But it didn’t fit right. One size was entirely too small, but the next size up was too large.
Yup. I like red. Bought the red.
And then I was hungry. But I’d spent money, and you know how I feel about that. Called Darling Husband, “Should I get myself a sandwich from Quiznos or come home and eat?”
He said, “For things like this I ask myself, WWJD?”
WWJD? Either not turn the stones into bread or multiply the sandwiches and feed all the shoppers.
“Um. Who is J in WWJD?”
“Jackie.” Ah! My name is Jackie! Indeed. What would Jackie do? While I was wondering what Jackie would do Darling Husband said, “By the way, what’s for dinner?”
Exactly. What was for dinner? If I came home, I’d have to figure that out and not just for myself. I’d have to feed all four of us.
“I’m eating at Quiznos. You guys will have to fend for yourselves.”
* I am leery of thrift stores. It cost us about $2000 to get rid of bedbugs a couple of years ago. A cost analysis leads me to believe it’s better to buy new then to have to exterminate bedbugs.