Having spent the last year as a student I basically only own jeans and sweatpants. I realize that's not a good enough excuse but that's all I have to give.
So when I had my job interview with in 24 hours of my return to NYC I was in a bit of a panic of what to wear. I really could have used a reality make-over-show at that moment but unfortunately I think they need more then 24 hours notice. Any of my fashion conscious friends would have been helpful too. Suddenly, I missed living in an apartment with several people because there was always a gay or an actress - same thing really- ready to fix me up in a fashion emergency. But a lass I'm in a domestic phase of my life where the only on hand help was my boyfriend, try as he might he'll never be the gay man of my dreams (even if he does do musical theater in between his metal gigs.)
So after tearing my closet apart I found something workable. But now since I actually got the job I need more then just one workable outfit. That's when I called the gay man's poodle, B. She wasted no time, even took a half day at work, to take me to Loehmann's and beyond in search of something appropriate yet still young looking that I could parade around the office and the city in. I mean, just because I'll be working as an assistant doesn't mean I have to look like a little old lady in long skirts and button down shirts or in really tight short skirts with loads of boobage. Neither was what I had in mind.
Most of the places I have worked at recently were much more casual, that's why all my boring old corporate attire had been dumped somewhere between LA and Midtown. Here in my Brooklyn closet only frumpy and dumpy remained.
After my last penny was spent I had acquired a good starting place. The only thing missing now was a pair of black pants. I didn't think it would be so hard to find them but who knew? I've looked all over downtown and couldn't find anything that fit. I'm 5'4 and apparently no longer a size 8 to 12. I've shrunk to a 4. Well sort of - a size 6 is too big and a 4 is a tiny bit too small. Add my short stature and you have a very comical image of me swimming in pants that pinch me at the waist and flood me at the feet.
I won't give up though. Tomorrow's mission is to find the most - perfect - fitting - pair - of black pants that ever were - even if I have to start at canal street and work my way up to 89th. (Just a random street.) Along the way I'll meet my boy toy while he waits for an equity call. A new jukebox musical to the tunes of Journey - I swear they wrote that for him. They just don't know it yet. So while he's searching for an in to be seen - I'll be hording through every clothing rack imaginable praying to the fashion Gods for something that fits.
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