Thursday, November 4, 2010

The Perils of Shopping

            I’m going shopping today—clothes shopping. I hate clothes shopping. I know. I’m weird and un-American and not a real girl. Let me be clear—I love nice clothes. I love having something that looks good and is stylish and fits great. Try finding that when you’ve never quite reached the five-foot mark. My father likes to joke that in men’s clothing stores there are departments for “men” and “young men” but not “old men”. That’s funny, because they have an old women’s department. They call it “petites”.  I can find clothes that fit, but only if I need something to wear to bingo on Friday nights.
            My other alternative is to shop in the junior’s department. I have really good luck buying jeans there. I’m not exactly skinny, but I have no ass (pardon the vulgarity). Seriously, none. One sleepy morning a few years back, I was getting dressed for work and my skirt  fit much better than usual (this was back in my corporate days—no skirts at work for me anymore). Were all my workouts paying off? Nope. The skirt was on backwards. But shopping in the Junior’s department must be done carefully. There are few things more pathetic than a soccer mom trying to dress like Hannah Montana.
            I have a party to go to Sunday night to celebrate my store’s fifth anniversary. It’s casual. What does that mean exactly? How casual? Bus stop casual? Nah, paint splattered sweat pants are probably out of the question. Saturday afternoon mass casual? Nah, too “churchy”. I know, it’s more like going to a bar with friends casual. I’m not good at that. I like to go out. But it just doesn’t happen often enough for it to be effortless for me.
There are a number of women from India where I work. Last year they all wore saris to our “casual” holiday party. They looked awesome—our work uniform is jeans and unflattering mustard-colored shirts. It was cool to see them in these gorgeous fabrics. I wonder what the Irish-Italian-American version of the sari is? A denim skirt and a Guinness? A glass of Chianti? I don’t know, but I’m on a quest to find it. Wish me luck!