I have been so busy at work and at home that I have neglected this blog terribly. This will, it seems, be par for the course, since this weekend I have four separate events to get to. I am tired just thinking on it.
My quest for comfy yet cute work shoes continues. Recently, I found a cute pair of sandals made by Dansko that I think will actually fit the bill. Of course, the store didn’t have them in the color and size I need, so I special-ordered them. Paycheck in hand, I wait. Hungrily.
At the store I went to, which was privately owned (i.e., not a chain “mall store”), I walked in on a conversation between the two store employees on hand, during which they were talking about how women of a certain age have no business wearing certain outfits.
“At some point, you have to accept reality,” the older one (let’s call her Blanche) said. “Support garments are made for a reason.”
Her much younger counterpart (we’ll call her Minnie) made some small noise as if to speak, but Blanche steamrolled on: “I mean, I wear pantyhose every day under my pants, so you see a smoother line.”
“What?!” Minnie said. “Don’t you get hot?”
“Beauty is pain, sweetheart,” Blanche said. “Who wants to see bulges and fat rolls? Not me, honey. The other day,” she said to me, “there was a woman in here, had to be sixty if she was a day, wearing a midriff-baring top. Can you believe? These women need to recognize, and stop thinking it’s twenty years ago. ”
“Amen to that,” I said. “The other day I saw someone wearing a short denim skirt with those leggings with the lace on the bottom? You know what I’m talking about? Like they used to wear back in the ‘80s?”
“Oh my God,” said Minnie, who by the way was wearing a very fetching red-with-white-polka-dots halter top. (Hence, the name.)
“I know,” I said. “And she looked about 45 years old. I think if you were young enough to wear it the first time around, you should not wear when it comes back into fashion. If it has, which I am hoping it hasn’t.”
“I don’t know,” said Blanche. “This might not be a bad thing. At least she’s covered up.”
“Hey, you know, you’re right,” I said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Well, what about you? You looking for shoes?” Blanche said.
“Oh, that,” I said. And now, paycheck in hand, I wait. Hungrily.