fresh laundry

I have a few random, little known talents. Super marketable, I'm sure. I am great at shoe shopping. I can find a beautiful piece of clothing in the midst of a pile of rags in a consignment store. I've perfected the art of falling gracefully. I can remember lines to countless cinematographic gems (Dirty Dancing... the Cutting Edge... Good Will Hunting) and recite them alongside the actors.

This morning I went to pull out my dress I'm going to be wearing to a formal this upcoming weekend with the Titan. After having spent an hour in pouring down rain on U Street, I wanted to check one more time to make sure the dress had escaped unscathed. Hmmm. Doth I need glasses? I realized that along the bottom of the dress, there were a few small tears and quite a few areas where holes were in the process of forming. Grrrr. So much for wearing that one again.

So, let's add perfecting the art of the "disposable formal" to the list.

Granted, the other one (former formal -- RIP) fell victim to another "natural disaster" -- it didn't survive the commute home from the Lousiana State Society's Mardi Gras Ball a year ago. You'd think that formal creators would make them a bit sturdier... okay, just kidding. I am more realistic than that... I guess that's what you get when you buy a gingerly sewn together contraption of things like rhinestones, sequins, chiffon, and satin.

As I tried on dresses this morning, I discovered that BCBG's latest offerings clearly think that women have no rib cage. I also discovered that Shelli Segal gets me... Laundry. Fits like a glove. Within less than 20 minutes, problem solved. I'm sure I'll be posting next weekend about how I was freeeeeezing in said dress in the midst of the windy city, and I'm sure the Titan would divulge how much complaining there was due to said dress, but always nice to have a reason to head out in some fine, fresh formal attire.