to say nothing of the dog

Thursday, October 21, 2004

Sartorially Challenged

My salary does not cover the amazing number of things that I really want. I mean, yes, health care, yes world peace...yes, God yes, Kerry in the White House...but also: Nora Roberts novels. Terry Pratchett novels. My first experience at a spa. Covering all expenses for the play. I sometimes feel that I should try to dress even worse (My style could be described as X-treme casual, with a high reliance on cotton shirts in bright bright colors--pretty!) in order for someone to nominate me for What Not To Wear. Because then? $5000 for a new wardrobe? Hell, yeah. That's a reality show I can get behind.

It's not that I don't know how to dress. I do. I recognize that perhaps one should actually press clothing before wearing it, instead of balling it up into knots in the back of a drawer for the cat to nest in.

But in my defense: it could be worse. For example, I could still be wearing sweat pants everyday and not brushing my hair, circa 1992. Or, as we saw in 1986, the dreaded green corduroy pants matched with the panda t-shirt and candy necklace.

I believe that it was at the age of four that I took power from my mother's hands in all matters sartorial, and have not given it up since. Occasionally, this strategy has proved hazardous. But today? Today I have an audition. In front of a commercial casting director.

I think that I'm going to go get that new shirt at Brooklyn Industries after work, after all...

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