My laissez faire attitude towards dressing makes going on a date difficult, coupled with the problem that unlike Mom, I only have one closet and it is half full. My friend Adria can attest to this as she stood in front of it one day screaming that “No self respecting Jewish Princess would have so little clothing.” My deepest apologies to all the JAPS who I’ve failed. Yet even I don’t go on a date in my gym shorts and hoodie so I have my work cut out for me when it comes time to get ready. It’s hard to keep my head from exploding.
Saturday night, it took six outfit changes to get out the door. White v-neck shirt with black skirt and little gray jacket was my initial instinct. Nope, wrong jacket and the skirt looked weird with the t-shirt. I flung it off. The black skirt with black top and black blazer that I tried on next would only work if we were eating at a funeral parlor. Off it went. Little black cocktail-ish dress? Nah, too dressy . I whipped it onto the bed. Skinny jeans with white shirt and black blazer. Very Soho but not exactly right. I threw the shirt across the room – it landed on the dog who looked dizzy from the watching the flying clothes. I was close to tears but not close to being dressed. I rummaged through the remaining things in my closet but it all became one black blur and I was running late. I desperately pulled out a tight black v-neck shirt, put the skinny jeans back on and black blazer. Hmmm, not bad, understated yet chic and since I was worried I’d damaged my rotator cuff with all the changes, I gave a thumbs up to “Beefy Boy” and he followed me with t-shirt still draped on his head.
I groaned as I stared back at the clothes strewn all over my room and couldn’t help but wonder if dating was worth the clean up.