From the time the invitation arrives in the mailbox, the pesky question niggles around in my mind . . . what will I wear to the Christmas party?
An inventory of my closet shows a few skirts that are now outdated, a couple of summer dresses (purchased on Wedding Attendance Dashes), lots of jeans, and shirts that feel at home with jeans and at home within the four walls of my house. Oh, and there is the black velvet Lanz of Salzburg dress that I wore 25 years ago to a company Christmas party and still can't part with. Think Lady Diana. Think '80s.
(Yeah, that one!)
My closet does not show much of anything that is Christmas-party-worthy.
My closet does not show much of anything that is Christmas-party-worthy.
I teach from home and work from home and nurture 6 other lives from home. Home doesn't demand much in the way of Christmas party attire.
The ante was upped this year by the location of the Christmas party:
The Westin Poinsett . . . crystal chandeliers, valet parking, china and silver. Skinny jeans stuffed in black leather boots and topped with a heavily cabled cream sweater . . . not appropriate.
Hence the dash.
Upon awaking, I knew I had to do something about said problem . . . by 6:00 pm. Around lunch time I started to mentally comb through my closet, thinking black, sparkly, or elegant. At 2:00 pm I flat-ironed my hair, hoping that no matter what I managed to find for the neck down, my hair would "carry" the night. At 3:00 pm I attended a real estate clothing. At 4:00 pm I got serious and began the traditional Christmas dash.
T.J. Maxx, one half hour to spend. Hit the dress rack. Limited choice options. Perfect. Collect six options. 15 minutes left. Hastily try on all six. After first five are too short, too tight, too unflattering, too boxy, and too matronly, breathe a sigh of relief that one works. Nervously stand in line fidgeting with watch. Checkout. Perfect . . . 30 minutes on the dot.
Get home. Make dinner for kids. Throw on new dress. Silently congratulate myself on my pre-flat-ironed hair (a new development for me this year). Zip up black leather boots. 6:00 . . . ready.
Thank goodness for TJ Maxx, 30 minute shopping trip, and a Calvin Klein dress for $40.
Skin of my teeth. Another Christmas Party Dash successfully completed.
Hence the dash.
Upon awaking, I knew I had to do something about said problem . . . by 6:00 pm. Around lunch time I started to mentally comb through my closet, thinking black, sparkly, or elegant. At 2:00 pm I flat-ironed my hair, hoping that no matter what I managed to find for the neck down, my hair would "carry" the night. At 3:00 pm I attended a real estate clothing. At 4:00 pm I got serious and began the traditional Christmas dash.
T.J. Maxx, one half hour to spend. Hit the dress rack. Limited choice options. Perfect. Collect six options. 15 minutes left. Hastily try on all six. After first five are too short, too tight, too unflattering, too boxy, and too matronly, breathe a sigh of relief that one works. Nervously stand in line fidgeting with watch. Checkout. Perfect . . . 30 minutes on the dot.
Get home. Make dinner for kids. Throw on new dress. Silently congratulate myself on my pre-flat-ironed hair (a new development for me this year). Zip up black leather boots. 6:00 . . . ready.
Thank goodness for TJ Maxx, 30 minute shopping trip, and a Calvin Klein dress for $40.
Skin of my teeth. Another Christmas Party Dash successfully completed.
This actually answered my drawback, thank you!
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