Sunday, May 3, 2009

Lazy Sunday

I actually like rainy days, always have. I think it's because it allows me to stay indoors doing my favorite activities (reading, watching TV, reorganizing my makeup drawer) without feeling like I really should be outside. Jeff is at the Met right now, making me look bad, but I'm used to it. Whatever, if we all have to live underground in fallout shelters due to nuclear war or swine flu, I'll be prepared.

I attempted to "spring clean" my closet in anticipation of the warm weather, but it only served to depress me. I am incapable of entering a new season without deciding that I need a whole new wardrobe. My high school diaries are full of sketches of the dEliA*s corduroys and Doc Marten mary janes I planned on procuring for the new school year. Only problem? Funding. In the margins of said diaries are calculations of how much all of my fantasy wardrobe (including new shades of Lipslicks lip gloss, sure to propel me from totally geek to totally chic) would cost. Inevitably the total reaches hundreds of dollars, and I make a follow-up chart that shows how many weeks (approximately 80) of allowance I will have to save in order to become the New Me.

This year I am fixated on "maxi dresses"—that's "long dresses" for the dudes reading—made of comfy jersey fabric. I have convinced myself that even though I am short, maxi dresses will make me look willowy and carefree. On slow days at work I fill cart after cart with wish list purchases, stare longingly at the items, and then close my browser before I am tempted to charge $600 on my credit card. In truth I have a closet full of cute dresses and separates, but they are OLD and therefore incapable of turning me into a new person: Summer Una, who breezes down the city streets in flowy fabrics and flat sandals, her (suddenly) perfect waves falling down her back, her wallet (suddenly) full of hundred dollar bills and LipFusion glosses.

I fear that as happy as I am with my life, I will never stop wanting a new wardrobe. Sure, a $50 shopping spree at Old Navy gives me a quick thrill, but like cheap drugs, oh, how quickly it fades. I need the good stuff.

The other thing about spring cleaning is that it forces me to confront the dry cleaning pile that I have spent eight months cultivating, since last summer. I should dry clean things as soon as they get dirty, but since dry cleaning is expensive, I stuff everything into a bag and put them into my closet, hoping that elves will launder them while I sleep. Sometimes I sort through the bag, divide it into piles of "Must Dry Clean Now, As I Am Down to Sweatpants and Sports Bras" and "Let Fester For A Few More Months," and then forget about them for a few weeks until I have already spent the money I had set aside for dry cleaning.

The ironic thing is that were I to dry clean my clothes, I would pretty much have a whole new summer wardrobe. Sigh.
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