I may need to go clothes shopping this fall. For some women, seasonal shopping happens every year. I shop every now and then, for fun. The same clothes have fit for fifteen years or more.
This summer, I have worked hard at adding curves. Miles on the bike rather than in the car, finishing the whole damned sandwich, and a beer now and then have added up to ten more pounds than I had this spring.
Blessed goddess, the girly pounds have landed right where I had hoped they would…but now, my pants pinch. Sweaters are snug. My favorite tank-tops are no longer appropriate outer-wear.
Now, I have to ask myself, what is my style at forty? Given the loss of a handful of essentials that have lasted for so long, what will replace my perfect little black dress? It came from an estate sale in 1998, with a tag from 1968. Macy’s doesn’t carry that designer any more.
The mall, including but least of all Macy’s for some reason, scares me silly unless I’m there with a big budget and shoes on the brain, or Olga’s Kitchen as my only destination. I’ll still cruise my beloved thrift shops, but I need to replace a few staples sooner than the usual cruising speed allows.
So, to the mall I must go before the weather turns colder. My jeans aren’t comfy, and I seem to have worn holes in the elbows of most of those suddenly va-va-voom sweaters. Somehow, my rounder frame also makes the sleeves of shirts too short, too. Who knew?
To accept shopping, I must ALWAYS have an event in mind. This fall, I will just pretend to shop for being a fabulously dressed grown-up.
That, joyfully, could mean anything.