You know the woman. The one that is impeccably put together EVERY SINGLE DAY. There is not a crease or wrinkle in her clothes let alone any tatters or loose strings. Everything is perfectly coordinated right down to her sox and bobby pins. She actually doesn’t wear bobby pins because they are for loose ends and she doesn’t have any. There are no safety pins holding her together either. No staples or duct tape or paperclips. She is usually dressed head to toe in black or camel with accents of white. Her white blouse looks like copy paper it so clean and crisp. She has gold buttons on her clothing and gold jewelry to match. Exactly the right proportion of jewelry that is glistening gold as opposed to tarnished costume jewelry. She stacks her watch and her nails are freshly manicured (no nail biting here). Her hair moves like the waves of the ocean not like half a dozen thumbleweeds landed on her head. Just enough makeup to accent her features making her look like a she woke up out of an Estee Lauder ad. She is an expert walking in stillettos. But possibly she is wearing riding boots which look equally as elegant. Her designer purse is made of Italian leather and there are no receipts, Starbucks bags, MacDonald’s napkins or over ripe bananas oozing out of it. When she pays for something she withdraws a streamlined matching wallet out of her bag, each card with its designated slot so she can locate what she needs in an instant. Millions of folded tangled papers are not exploding out as she finds what she needs. She doesn’t look like she is in any discomfort whatsoever. By discomfort, I’m talking about Spanx or control tops suffocating the life out of her, twisted nylons, holes in the toes, underwires poking her ribcage, band aids covering her fingers, stretched out elastic on her skivvies causing them to bunch up and fall down. No knots in her chains or blue rings around her wrist and fingers where her jewelry rests. No smudges on her designer shades. She doesn’t run because she is not in a rush. Her lipsticks sticks and never smudges. As she passes the scent of delicate flowers or spices lingers in the air. She is the Proverbs 31 woman of fashion and elegance.
More realistic, on any given day, I’ve noticed there is a stain on my blouse and a button missing. I have hang nails and my nail polish is far too grown out. There is a knot in my necklace chain that I cannot remove because I’m always in too much of a rush. I fill in the worn area on my boots with a black felt pen so no one can see the white substance underneath showing through. My purse has a scratch on it and it’s full to brim with paper and receipts and letters and church bulletins and Gap family day coupons and a cloudy bag of trail mix buried at the bottom. The lenses in my glasses look like they’ve been sitting on the bottom of the ocean for years. There is, in fact, an underwire sticking into my ribs and flesh at this very moment, not to mention the several straps that keep falling off my shoulders every time I move. Something in my boots keeps making holes in my sox (maybe it’s my toes). I dress in layers to hide imperfections so, no you cannot hang up my extra sweater even though its 90 degrees in here. What color is my hair you ask? Is it the color that is showing at the roots, or it is the next 6 inches or is it the color that is peeking out from underneath. Although I blew dry my curly hair straight, I seem to have missed a spot in the back where it’s rippling like a potatoe chip. My bleeding lipstick belies my age. And the cracks in my faux leather pants? Well heck, real leather is hot, expensive, unforgiving, not stretchy and did I mention expensive and not stretchy?
So that is my sorry little fashion story. I try to imitate the Proverbs 31 fashion woman but I fall sadly short. So I will focus my attention on an arena where I can win. (To be continued).
The Red Plaid Apron 