I am a woman with two problems …

Darcysfirstworldproblems

This spring has been a busy time for crafting first impressions and I have had to overcome a significant hurdle to my ability to do so with elegance, expediency and efficiency.

First, I was transferred to a new office at the beginning of May. In my last office I set a high bar. As testament to my success one particularly astute colleague took to referring to me as an elegant bag lady. Amazing how some people just get me right away.

Being keenly aware of how important is to maintain my fashionista momentum, I spent the long weekend before my first day going through the closet and pulling together outfits.

  • Skirt-top-cardi-mules-necklace
  • Dress-cardi-kitten heels-earrings
  • Slacks-blouse-cardi-pumps-earrings…

Skirt-top-cardi-mules-necklace Dress-cardi-kitten heels-earrings Slacks-blouse-cardi-pumps-earrings

It was a fabulous way to spend a spring afternoon. I got 8 unique and fashionable outfits put together – then I had to stop.

Second, Alberta called an election. To show solidarity with my political party of choice I laboured to put together a string of stunning orange outfits. I had a lot to work with because, well, because I just have a lot of clothes to work with:

  • 6 orange dresses
  • 5 five orange tops and summer sweaters
  • 4 orange cardigans
  • 3 pairs of orange shoes
  • 2 orange skirts
  • and 1 orange scarf

orange wave

I started putting them together with accessories in affiliated colours. I didn’t even get past the dresses before I had to halt political panolpoly progress.

Why stop you ask? I was enjoying myself. I was getting organized. I was expressing my feelings and using my creative skills. Why stop? Because I had no place to hang my outfits. I literally RAN OUT OF ROOM to pull myself together. It was terribly sad.

This is a recurring theme in my life. Just when I hit my stride and feel able to express myself as a creative human being, the limits and parameters imposed on me by chance and circumstance appear. My closet was clearly designed by a person who envisioned nothing more than hanging 6 of the same white permanent press shirts and 6 pairs of pants in shades of charcoal.

Currently my clothes are packed together in a closets with no air, no freedom to move on the rod and no where to meet their true match. Every morning I face the daunting task of pulling together an outfit in a rush and sans caffeine.

But SOON this will be no more! Last night I went online and ordered a beautiful armoire for my bedroom.

armoire

I hope when it arrives all my fashionable problems with be over.

 

Never again, a gain

My darling gave up cigarettes and took on pringles last year.

To begin with you should know that he is not the average man. Firstly, he is a darling. That much is indisputable. He is intelligent. Stoic. Handy. Loyal. Affectionate. Reliable. Even tempered. Handsome. Tall. Broad shouldered. Considerably above average.

And now, thanks to cheetos and winter inactivity, he is also has an above average waist measurement.

I mean this with all respect. From inactivity alone I too put on 3 or 4 pounds and am finding my dresses slightly more form fitting than I like. But because I am a woman I have been conditioned all my life to avoid snacking in order to preserve my figure. My husband was not indoctrinated with any such waist preservation strategy.

So I, his loyal wife and ally, voluntarily opted to spent a Sunday afternoon shopping with him for new pants.

haberdashery

I don’t even know how many pairs of jeans we looked at. It blurred. In a desperate bid to locate the correct waist size I sorted through more piles of clothes than I did during my entire last shopping trip to New York.

mens-pants-51

I was never quite sure what to say when he grew more despondent and my flattery became more transparent.

I was tired, he was grumpy.

The whole experience involved the level of frustration and despair usually reserved for bathing suit shopping forays, with the same root issue. There isn’t enough fabric where the damned fabric is really needed.

bathing suit shame

We finally found a pair and immediately fled the mall. As earnest in our need to escape as if we had just robbed the bank, we squealed out of the parking lot and hit the freeway home.

Sigh.

I am not suited to companion shopping. I am a solitary hunter. I want to be supportive, I do. But when I shop for myself it is incidental to my life. Or, more accurately, a constant component of my life. I have never HAD to shop because I always AM shopping. In fact it has been suggested that I could stop – silly really, why stop when I am so good at it? I now realize it was the freedom that made it fun.

My enthusiasm is limited to personal shopping.

 

I fear that if I am called upon again to join a shopping expedition that my favourite pastime – the casual potential shopping foray – could lose all its joy. Nothing kills pleasure so much as when the freedom to discover becomes a mandated need to locate.

And so, it becomes the age old dilemma of womankind; to support her family or to seek her own fulfillment.

I cannot risk of losing sight of my true passion in life.

 

It’s not a metaphoric closet.

Last week, for reasons I would rather not get into, my husband and I had a discussion about house insurance.

It turns out he is clueless. Loveable, but clueless.

Our house contents are insured for $75,000. When he dropped that bombshell, and I asked him if we had a special rider for my clothes, he looked at me with complete incomprehension. When he recovered capacity for his speech he became yet more incomprehensible, and said “What, you have about 25 dresses right, at about $150 each? 10 pairs of shoes? How much are shoes?”

Tory Burch. Chloe. Helmut Lang. Kate Spade. Isabel Marant. Proenza Schouler.

                    TORI BURCHCHLOEHELMUTKATE SPADEMARANTPROENZA

These timeless fashion classics live in my closet.

This, my friend, is Burberry. BURBERRY. It was not $150:

BURBERRY

This, this is Vivienne Westwood. Sure, only her red line, but still, not $150:

WESTWOOD

You see, I am cursed by the fact that I have remained the same dress size for 20 years. And generally, classic fashion does not go out of style. Generally, classic fashion remains in my closet. I am helplessly timeless.

darcy on stairs

If we have a fire I guess the boys are all going to be naked for a while.

Those Old Familiar Move-in Blues

We’re in!
Just finished unloading.

I needed THREE Venti cafe lattes just to get me through the exhausting job of supervising the movers!

I have already hung my five carefully selected outfits in the walk-in closet. I chose carefully, it would be dreadful to let down my co-workers and clients by coming in to work not quite put together.
The closet looks cavernous now but I am still a bit afraid that I will have some difficulty making the space work for me. After all I have to share this:

walk in closet

with B.
And well, I have already accepted my shoe closet limitations.

Imelda's shoes !!

I expect I have good deal more supervising to do before I feel happy, but for tonight I will allow myself the luxury of a little ‘me time’ – a glass of pinot noir and a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough plate of tasty organic roasted pumpkin seeds.

binge-eating-disorder

But never fear, I shall endeavor to keep up my good work here, no matter how hard it is to find time aside from my duties as homemaker.

dressing-for-dinner

Size 2 Sufferage

Well, honest to goodness, 2013 had better be good to me because the start of it was very frustrating.

I firmly believe that it is important to start a new year right. I know there are people who greet a new year the same way they left the old one but, is that constructive? Can you imagine the karmic repercussions?

So NATURALLY I had to be very careful about how I prepared for my New Year soirée. I flipped through my closet but decided that I couldn’t possibly turn over a new leaf in an old dress. One would THINK that 48 hours is ample time to find a fitting dress. I suppose that may be the case for everyone but me. Always everyone but me. **SIGH**

shopping failure

What a shopping nightmare.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a size 2 dress?

I’m sorry that I am small, I’m sorry that I don’t like ice cream, I’m sorry that my carb cravings are benign, I’m sorry that my metabolism is active, but I don’t think that the systematic discrimination against petite women is right.  How can a store possibly justify only having ordered in size 6-12 dresses? Just because those of us outside those ‘externally imposed size boundaries’ are a minority doesn’t justify this fashion discrimination!

I get angry all over again just thinking about it.

The 11th hour is my finest hour however, and Holt Refrew and Donna Karan saved the day.

In 2013 I pray that the hurdles and barriers I experience due to my petiteness become less onerous, and as my New Year’s resolution I pledge that I will hold fast and work tirelessly for myself and other petite women everywhere.


clothes for women of size 2