2000-04-26

WTF?!

Today's entry, Gentle Readers, is the first in a series I'm calling "WTF?!" or "What the FUCK?!"

Okay, yesterday morning I took stock of my closet, and realized that while I have scads of fabulous things, roughly three-quarters of my current wardrobe is unsuitable for the number of fundraising events I must attend, as a representative of Boston's professional theatrical community. A 50's chiffon frock that earns praises at a Paula Kelley show is met with bemused smirks at the Fairmont Copley Plaza. One realizes that as one nears 30, compromises must be made.

Fine.

So I decided to take a little jaunt over to Express, which during previous visits had struck me as exactly the sort of place I could go to stock up on semi-professional wardrobe staples: sassy little blazers, camisoles, etc. I figured I'd been a good girl this month; I could see clear to spending somewhere in the neighborhood of a couple hundred and look like a grownup for a few hours every couple of weeks or so.

Have you been to Express lately? I mean, when did they outlaw natural fibers, size 10s and sleeves for God's sake?

What the FUCK?!

You know what? I didn't like slip dresses when they reared their skimpy fronts and lace-piped bottoms 8 fucking years ago. Express operates under the assumption that its customers 1) are making money on the side by working nights in what's left of the Combat Zone, 2) enjoy wearing fabrics with the textural consistency of Lincoln Town Car upholstery, and 3) are shaped like little boys.

I know, I know that this is a tired rant, but I'm most aweary of not being able to find clothes that fucking fit me. I am somewhat zaftig. I have big tits, a big ass, and childbearin' hips. 50 years ago, I would've been a goddamn pinup. Yesterday, I got apologetic cooing from an Express sales associate who didn't think they had a particular skirt in "bigger sizes."

Did I mention that I weigh 135 pounds and wear a size 10? I say this to put a little perspective on things. I am hardly overweight, but the fine designers at Express are pushing me ever closer to the Fast Lane of Low Self-Esteem, and I'm on a slippery slope to begin with.

Small wonder that I do most of my shopping at thrift and vintage stores.

I'm going across the street to get a donut.

lisamcc at 10:53:57

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