It was the last glimpse in the mirror before I closed my bedroom door that did it; I could NOT leave the house in those pants, a pinstripe pair from Old Navy, that I bought without trying on and simply do nothing for me. So, even though I was already late, I stripped then off in favor of khakis. And then I decided I didn’t want to wear pink! I wanted to wear navy! And then my accessories were just all wrong and I had to change my earrings and it was when I was unclipping my necklace that I thought; “Who are you and what have you done with Rachel?”
To be fair, I have always been the type to change my clothes 10 times before leaving the house, but that had more to do with neurotic indecisiveness than fashion. And I never used to own jewelry, let alone enough accessories to coordinate with my outfit. I spent most of my life in jeans and a t-shirt. Sure, there were days when I’d dress a step above my Kohl’s-casual style and sometimes I’d even wear a skirt but that usually prompted the question; “Why are you so dressed up?”
And then I started dating a Republican.
No, really. That’s what happened. Though I have to give myself a tiny bit of credit; HeWhoShallNotBeNamed teased me “You dress much better this year than you did last year.” (Hey, it was nice to know he’d been eyeing me too.)
So, based on his compliments and outright criticisms, I managed to pick up quite a bit of fashion advice. That semester was a struggle to look good in mostly bad clothing. Xina teased my whenever I wore that gray sweater or blue button down; she knew what my motivation had been when I put it on. By the summer, I was shopping at Express and showing up in the city in my Editor pants.
“I want to take you shopping and buy you clothes,” HWSNBN would tell me and I’d tease he should be careful, lest he go fulfilling my “Pretty Woman” fantasies.
Today, I aspire to dress like a Ann Taylor ad (alas, it remains out of my budget and I mostly settle for NY&Co) and purple has been phased out of my wardrobe. Now you can jump on me and say “oh blah, blah, blah, you changed the way you dressed for a boy,” but let’s be real here: I dressed pretty bad. My boyfriend in high school admitted that when he first met me, he thought I was poor because I was always dressed badly. (or it could have been FLOW area bias against O-Town.) And now, I don’t leave the house looking anything less than pulled together.
The problem with caring about clothes is now I actively covet them, and that gets expensive. What I need is another Republican boy who wants to buy me clothes (the better to be arm candy in!) I’m sure this makes me shallow in some circles, but I know I’m more confident when I know I look good. And confidence is sexy.
I’d segue into a rant about the movie “The Devil Wears Prada” but Jessica already said it all, and she said it better that I would have.
