Sunday, November 13, 2011

For a nanosecond it was the year of the nose ring

I drove to Assachusetts yesterday so I could spend Saturday night with my dear friend Sandy. Because she is so wonderful and because she understands I don't get out much these days, she met me at the door with a pitcher of diet ginger ale and Early Times whiskey.

I love her (remember how she visited at the height of the flea infestation? Now that's a friend).

After tailgating at her place, we walked around Northampton and tried in vain to find a bar where we could sit. We finally settled on a pub where one of us could sit.

As soon as my ass hit the stool, I got lost people watching. In Mulletville Lite, my people watching is limited to a) Chuck and the kids, b) my parents, c) the neighbors, and d) the moms who drop off their kids at the nursery school (i.e., a blur of yoga pants). No one has tri-colored hair. No one wears red lipstick. No one dresses up.

The room was full of eye candy. Pure eye candy.

Dressed in my black sweater, jeans and black boots I felt hopelessly generic in comparison. Not in a bad way. More in a I'm-36-and-live-in-Connecticut-so-I-have-no-pep-or-originality kind of way.

Ok, ok. I guess I can't blame it all on Connecticut. Having two children has made dressing a completely utilitarian effort. Putting on a shirt correctly is good, never mind if it's funky and/or flattering.

Then there's Chuck. He bought me a Vera Bradley handbag for Christmas last year and, in the midst of a homogeneous hiccup, I started using it.

So there I was at the bar. Drunk on whiskey and pretty lights and somewhat pretty people, I contemplated a drastic makeover for myself. Bangs. Lipstick. Textured tights. A ferret hat. Something different. Something that would set me apart from the yuppy Mulletville Lite crowd.


If only I hadn't stopped at that store on the way home from Assachusetts today and bought these:

Clogs. Fucking clogs. Sucked in by their comfort and functionality, I didn't have a chance.

And, honestly, I kind of knew this day was coming. I just didn't think it would follow such quick suit after "I'm gonna zip and zest my hump, my hump, my hump. My lovely lady lumps (lumps)." There are worse travesties, I understand, but for a few drunken hours I really did think I'd return home and infuse my life with unique and dazzling glamor.

(Myah, that last line just made me burst out laughing.)

What about you? Do you feel like you pay hommage to your inner diva or are you subsisting on comfy schlepwear?


Leigh Anne said...

I'm also unable to resist the sweet Siren's song of comfortable shoes...even though "10-years-ago me" hates myself for it. My feet, on the other hand, feel awesome!

VandyJ said...

I cleverly call it mom casual. That way it sound more like a style than giving up. Leave me my delusions.

SmartBear said...

I am ordering you to take those back! Seriously....I am having a LOT of difficulty dressing myself these days because I feel old and I don't know what to do with myself but I would be a bad bloggy friend if I didn't tell you to take those back. And now you will probably take a picture of yourself wearing said clogs to punish me for such judgemental behavior....
in other news...I am SO glad you got a night out with a friend.

Mama Badger said...

I can't help but think no matter how comfy those are, clogs are ugly. Says the woman who styles her converse all stars because she can't be bothered to find shoes to match her outfit.

Magpie said...

jeans + clogs = happy happy me.

Sparkling said...

Oh boy, those clogs put you ona slippery slope. Cardigans and mom jeans will be next. Brace yourself.

Lady Goo Goo Gaga said...

It's very hard to not look like shit.....I try to think( as in the case of the clogs) the more comfortable I Am the more likely it is lthat I look like a fat frumpy mom......

Man! There are a lot of holes in my neighborhood

Our young neighbors Bob and Claire are wonderful —which is a fricken relief because we basically share a yard. A flat, treeless yard. When ...