Coming out of the Closet

"Women usually love what they buy, yet hate two-thirds of what is in their closets."  ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960

Well, this is true for me, no doubt.  My struggles shopping for clothes are well documented in this space, but I'm coming along with that talent. I'm getting better at knowing what will fit and what won't, and some of my extreme pickiness has fallen by the wayside. On a recent trip, once I eliminated everything that didn't fit, and everything I didn't like, there were two white T-shirts and a package of tube socks left in my shopping cart, and that will not do.  I must report, however, that just the other day, I found the mythical chupacabra of women's clothing. A pair of dress pants, with no annoying buttons or zippers, crisp, comfortable fabric (with just precisely enough stretch) and…wait for it…pockets! Really, they exist, even for someone who isn't a double-zero.

Having recently managed to acquire a few key pieces of clothing that don't resemble convict clothing, my task now is the closet. Or, as it's referred to in my house, the abyss. While I drool over home improvement magazines that feature amazing walk-in closets that are bigger than my living room, my actual closet is long, dark, and narrow. There are some Home Depot shelves screwed to one wall and a spring-loaded rod that routinely falls down, but that's OK because nothing hangs on it. The shelves and the floor are covered with the flotsam and jetsam of 5 years worth of pants, jeans, shirts, and shoes that I tried to wear, forgot to wear, or am never, ever going to wear.

I read once that to clean out a closet, everything has to be sorted into two piles, "Keep" or "Donate." My closet needs a third pile called, "What was I thinking?"  Trying to get organized is a lifelong battle for me, but how hard could it be to manage one small 3 foot by 6-foot closet?

It's sort of like a treasure hunt, at least thinking that made it easier to dig in. Maybe there would be a $20 in the pocket of an ugly jacket? Perhaps I would find that Coach wristlet I scored at a yard sale and then lost track of? It could be right under the 19 pairs of yoga pants shoved onto the shelves. For someone who hasn't Namaste'd in like, forever, if I do decide to go all downward dog, I'm covered.

The jeans are the next to be dealt with. Pick a size, any size; chances are I have it. I have size 12s that fit and size 16s that are too small and so does every woman I know. Someone is screwing with us on this sizing issue, and when the sisterhood catches that guy, he will be eating pavement. I kept two pairs and they better last because they are exactly what I want and what feels right to wear. Also, they don't make that style anymore, of course.

When at last the floorboards of the closet can be seen, and there are a few Hefty bags of donations ready to go, it's not an abyss anymore but rather a lonely outpost of questionable fashion choices and way too many white, beige or light blue tailored shirts. My wardrobe is down to the bare bones of necessary pieces, with a couple basic black cocktail dresses hoping for a date night. For now, it's enough, but pretty soon I will have to shop again, to fill in the gaps. Working at home is convenient at times, but branching out and wearing a skirt or a bright green silk shirt now and then wouldn't kill me. A friend told me that if you're not taking a fashion risk at least once a week, you're not living your best life. She can wear anything and make it look good, but it's not because she's a perfect size 4, it's because she doesn't let a number on a tag define her.

I hung my new dress pants on a real hanger and placed them gently on the closet rod, which has been re-attached. Perhaps the shopping gods will continue to smile on me and eventually, there will be a tunic top or a funky sweater to go with them. I'm coming out of the closet, but I'll be back with a few more items soon enough. Does anyone want to go shopping with me?

Missing the Shopping Gene

"Win or lose, we go shopping after the election."

----Imelda Marcos

Imelda Marcos was not a woman that I respected or admired; however, she did have some serious shoe game. And I love me some shoes, for sure.  This quote caught my eye because someone told me that no matter what the election results, when it was over, I should go out and buy myself a little something as a treat. The point of that seems lost on me, but whatever. It's as if everyone around me likes to shop, even if it's not actually necessary. My daughter keeps a running list of what she "needs" for clothes, accessories. and whatever else is covering the floor in her room. Friends of mine are world-class mall rats, who will drive an hour or more to get to one particular shop that has a purse or a pair of jeans they want.  It's not my gig though; it's never been fun. Perhaps I am missing the shopping gene because I hate jean shopping?

Part of the reason is an extreme pickiness that I just can't shake. It's one thing to say, "Gee, I really need a red blouse" and then go get one. That's what normal people do. What I do is not normal, or it doesn't seem so anyway. First, there are the online options. Because staying home in my jammies with my pug on my lap and Netflix on for background noise is my jam. That's much more appealing to me than finding a parking spot and hoofing it around some poorly lit, climate controlled, consumer zoo with Muzak and cinnamon buns the size of a spare tire. Sadly, my closet has a fair number of things purchased online that will never see the light of day. There are no dressing rooms or mirrors in online shopping, and while that can be a bonus, it's not efficient.

Eventually I have to leave the bubble, but still, it's a mission for me, not a hobby. There's a goal, an objective, and everything that's involved in a shopping trip is supposed to be in furtherance of that goal. There's no need to go to brunch first, for instance. Grab a Power Bar and go, because the sooner you get back, the sooner you can throw on the sweats and get back to binge-watching The Crown. Speaking of, the royal family knows how to shop. When the Queen needs a new hat, the store comes to her,  she points at a few things, and it's done. Since it's unlikely I will ever be a royal, it's the mall for me.

While being to see and touch and try on clothes is a better way to make sure you get what you want, my issue is I don't know what the heck I want.  Oh, a green scarf? Sure. But it can't be light green, teal, mint or anything close to blue.  It can't have tassels or fringe; it will bug me if it has things hanging off it. I'm a girl on a budget too, so it can't cost too much, because even if it's perfect and exactly the right thing, the guilt will arrive with the credit card bill. The one time I found a perfect scarf, turns out it was a Christmas table runner. Wish I had known that before that office party.  My mother was very wise and said when you find something you love, buy lots of it. Tried that Ma, except they were French fries and that's part of the reason I wound up with something that goes on a piece of furniture.

While we can all live without shopping for items that aren't necessary, what happens when you need a new winter coat, or, God forbid, a bathing suit? That's when it gets ugly for me. I need a new winter coat, have for the last two winters. The reason for that is that there IS no winter coat on the planet that I deem acceptable. Which is ridiculous but true. The details of the right size pockets, hood or no hood, fur trim or not, belted or not, what color, what brand and, of course, the price, fly around my head, making it impossible to find something suitable. It would be awesome if shopping were something fun and easy for me. It's never going to be that way, however. For now, I keep trying, usually frantically texting pictures of items to friends, while I paw through the racks, with questions like, "Does this look like someone's couch?" My latest quest is for a watch, but I know exactly which one to choose: the Rolex, with the Tiffany blue face and diamond bezel. Maybe I’m not that picky after all? Clearly, that isn't happening, so the search continues. Oh, and if anyone has Rolex coupons, let me know.

But Wait! There's More!

“Life’s a pitch and then you buy.”

----Billy Mays

We’ve all seen those ads on late night television. There’s a product that someone is screaming about, urging you to call immediately and get yours because “Operators are standing by.” When I was little I always felt bad for the operators having to stand around waiting for a call in the middle of the night like some retail army waiting for orders. Most of the products advertised in these infomercials are really, well, kind of useless. This column featured the topic of useless talents awhile back and while I will always believe being able to play the William Tell Overture on your snapping fingers is far from useless, the fact remains that some of these “As Seen on TV” products are pretty ridiculous.

What I can’t understand however is why they sell so well.  Much of the success has to lie in the advertising. Most of the ads run late at night, and most people who are awake at those hours and are watching television are probably already susceptible to a pitch. A few years ago I was awake one night, with a hellish cold and a colicky child both of which together had me within spitting distance of a full on meltdown.

So, I switched on the television to drown out the screeching and the sniffling, which at one point, were both coming from me. There in the blue haze of the wee small hours, when all I wanted to do was believe in something bigger than myself was just what I needed---a fat magnet. No word of it a lie, I was dialing furiously because those operators were standing by, ready! I realize now that fat is not magnetic and this stupid thing that I was supposed to stick in my stewpot wasn’t going to help. Not to mention whenever these ads show someone trying to prepare dinner or have a snack without the miracle product, the actors would have you believe frying an egg without a space age non stick pan is a deadly accident waiting to happen and getting yourself a snack is impossible without an Ov-Glove, a Snack-eez cup and a Snuggie blanket with sleeves.

So fine, the ads suck us in, it happens. These products though, almost never work the way they say they do. Case in point, that spray on hair in a can from Ronco. Guys, listen up. If you’re losing your hair, go commando and shave it all off. Bald is beautiful! Do not buy a can of paint and spray it on your noggin, you are fooling no one.  Girls, you all are guilty too. Do you really believe that a facemask with some Christmas lights on it is going to make you look as young as Krystle from Dynasty? Dynasty was a long time ago; we all age (if we’re lucky) so put down the hockey mask and just wear big sunglasses.  Most of these products are so awful, and yet, sell like hotcakes. Also, there’s a hotcake maker that sells like…well never mind.

Thinking perhaps that I was just being a cynical cranky person, I checked with some friends and they are with me on this. We couldn’t think up a single product that was actually worth getting. But wait…there’s more! Pajama jeans? Really? Why are these a thing? Check out the aisles of the grocery store, plenty of people are wandering around in real pajamas, no need to get pajama jeans. Any gadget that makes only one thing is also pretty silly. For example, a friend sent me a link to a “Retro Pop Up Hot Dog Maker.” Now you can have hot dogs that pop up like toast. Excuse me; if you want to go “retro” to cook a hot dog get a stick and some firewood. Once you have the fire going you won’t need the S’Mores maker either ($29.95 plus S/H, not sold in stores) and you can use the same stick for the marshmallows.

Many of you are cooking big meals today. Potatoes have to be peeled and mashed, birds must be basted and vegetables chopped, but the gadgets aren’t what will make your day. Slicing and dicing, mincing and mashing, crying and drinking (OK that might just be me) to get all that food on your table isn’t nearly as important as who is at your table. Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy the day.