You might recall that I, on the recommendation of a friend, signed up for this service where an anonymous personal shopper picks your wardrobe and mails it out to you.
Now I’m thinkin’, what does it say about me that my friend thinks I need such help? What does it say about my “friend?”
Honestly, it says exactly what it is: My friend is embarrassed enough by my clothing to suggest that someone else dress me. Yes, I need help with my wardrobe.
I’m ok with that. Admitting it is the first step to a cure.
So, today my first box came. My heart beat a tiny bit faster when my friendly UPS dude held out the electronic pen for me to sign for the package.
Here it is…
Wait for it… Wait for it…
Ok. The black shirt and scarf are fine. I might actually keep those. The jeans (and yes, I tried them on) are high-waisted and baggy–like something out of the original Charlie’s Angels. Maybe back then they were cool; today they scream, “Schlumpy Mom!”
The electric blue chiffon peasant-y bead-adorned blouse thingy and white crochet doily open cardigan… bleeeeech. Those are too dowdy even for Nana to accept.
In sum: There was a slight high when opening the box, a bit of an adrenaline fix when I pulled out the tastefully patterned scarf and black twisted jersey tee, and a total crash when I unfolded the Nana items (or, rather, the items that would cause even Nana to do a spit-take when she saw them).
Supposedly the company learns from its fumbles, so we’ll see if they do a better job next round. I hope so, because I would rather wade through someone else’s wardrobe mistakes than face my own.
Each day of 2014, I’m
forcing encouraging myself to have at least one new experience (and chronicling it to keep it real). If you’re interested in why–though I can’t for the life of me imagine anyone would be that bored–check out the “about” page.