You know, some magical piece of cloth that would transform a dumpy wallflower into the life of the party, a bookish girl into a smokin’ siren, or maybe just a 5’2″ woman into a slightly taller-looking woman with great calves.

For me, it was this floaty, white, non-specific-historical-period-epic-inspired nightgown from Victoria’s Secret.  They sold that thing for years.  Decades, even.  How I longed for that nightgown (from ages 13 to 19)!  It was sorta like this one, but with long pirate sleeves.  I would kill for a photo of it right now, but I’m betting a few of you remember Elaine Irwin Cougar Mellencamp in that flowy off-the-shoulder cotton number trimmed in eyelet lace.  I fantasized in a very PG-13 style about, I don’t know, wearing it on some Mediterranean balcony, or in the kind of bedroom that’s inexplicably filled with mosquito nets and smells of bay rum, while my husband, the dashing underwear-model-slash-professional-soccer-player-slash-Chairman-of-International-Perfume-&-Wine, came at me with PG-13 style lust in his eyes.

I even considered buying it to wear on my actual wedding night, but by that time, the magic had worn off.  I realized that the nightgown was probably more of a Snuggie for virgins than anything else, and I would look more enticing to D if I were wrapped in the actual bedsheet.  Sadly, this isn’t far off:

I never bought the gown before that time because it was something like $39 or $49 or possibly even $59, and since I was responsible for buying all my own clothes from the age of 13?  I just couldn’t justify the expense for something no one would realistically ever see me in.

Obviously the fantasy was better than the reality in that case, but I’m still lusting.  The DvF Benny dress– the  Jockey Green one you see third from left in our current banner?

I’ve been dreaming about that one for the last year-and-a-half.  Of course, with my 2009 budget, it’s not going to happen.  But watch me snap it up on eBay right after the 2010 ball drops.

How about you? Did you ever get your Gordon Gartrell?  Still pining?  Beyond it all?  Snoozed and lost?  Or are you, right this instant, wearing that nightgown on a balcony in Barcelona as the sea breeze whips though your hair?

I’ve been watching Project Runway every week– I just haven’t found much to say. So I thought I’d turn it over to my husband Diego for a week and see if someone with congenital black/dark blue colorblindness* could find something interesting about this rather stitch-by-numbers season from Lifetime.

Watch as I rue the day.

—

So I’m thirty seconds into watching Project Runway with Heidi Klum and already I’m wishing my water bottle was laced with cyanide. It’s not the fashion designs that have me gripping the couch– I haven’t really seen any yet. It’s the designers. The show opens with each of them saying a few carefully edited words about themselves or their designs or butterflies, I can’t recall specifics, but know for sure that I am going to enjoy hating one or all of them over the course of the next sixty minutes. But let me not get ahead of myself. Allow me to open with a few words of my own regarding ME.

First of all, I know nothing about, and care even less for, fashion. I was recently appalled to learn that I owned nine pair of shoes. Michelle assures me this isn’t outrageous for an adult male, but I am inconsolable. When did I become such a spoiled prince? I mean, I grew up in household where three pair of shoes and two pair of jeans were standard. As an adult, I continue to view clothes in very practical terms: society dictates that I must wear them while buying groceries at Trader Joe’s or going places like church, so I do. If I end up looking good, it is the result of a happy accident or entirely Michelle’s fault. I don’t think I’ve purchased a single article of clothing for myself in over fourteen years. I’m her live action Ken doll, sports car not included. Truth be told, I cannot even distinguish between dark blue and black dress socks. But, you know what? They go on your feet! Who cares if they don’t match? And if you’re wearing dark blue or black socks with shorts, no amount of reality TV watching is going to save you – it’s just straight to fashion hell for you! Now I may not know fashion, but I am no stranger to reality-based TV and am (not) proud to say that I watched the virgin seasons of Survivor, Fear Factor, American Idol and The Running Man starring Arnold Schwarzenegger.  Now that we’re better acquainted, let’s talk reality-based fashion TV, shall we?

Three minutes into the program and I’m twelve minutes worth of lost. So many people and designs to remember and what happened last show and even more butterflies. I don’t panic, but rather, default to what I know best: reality-based people. More specifically, which people am I going to root for and against? Or perhaps just against. This Nicolas dude is a co-workers’ worst nightmare, as is Shirin. It’s “When Snipey Met Whiney.” There are others, but I have already wished a pox upon both of their houses. With that box checked, we move on to the challenge I wish for both of them to lose in spectacularly dramatic fashion.

Heidi announces that the designers will have all new models for this challenge. A collective gasp echoes from the group which signals that I should care about something. It turns out the “models” are recently divorced women. In single file they march onto the runway wearing their expired wedding gowns. I’m a bit uncomfortable on their behalf until I learn from Heidi what the designers must do next. The challenge is to design an entirely new outfit, using the aforementioned wedding gowns, that will help these women move on to the next stage of their lives. From this point forward, Tim Gunn collectively refers to this group of women as “The Divorcees.” Thanks for helping them move forward, Tim!

“I just get really happy when they finally let her shop.”
~Michele Weinberger
“Romy & Michele’s High School Reunion”

And so they go shopping, the whole lot of them. They run and pull fabric from giant paper towel rolls and other things, I don’t know. It’s all so confusing. I do know two things for certain, however. 1) they each have a $25 budget, and 2) I could do it better than them. How could I not? I am the viewing audience and I know all. It’s the unspoken contract between reality TV and its loyal public– every four years, Uncle Bob is transformed into an expert on the triple salchow, double toe loop and the importance of artistic interpretation.  Now that I am an expert on fabrics, I am certain that my $25 would have been spent on only the finest silks for my superior creation.

The designers begin drawing and sketching and sketching and drawing, fabric everywhere and after fifteen minutes of program viewing, I feel appropriately qualified to openly criticize their work. If I were on the show, I am confident that I would have a good shot of winning this challenge. There’s only one minor concern: I’m not really that strong at drawing. No matter. Drawing only serves to slow down the creative process.

At this point Tim Gunn enters the room. He’s a cross between Moses and a cosmetics department offer, providing insight from above to illuminate your path and every so often bestowing a free gift with purchase, as he does with Shirin, aka Whiney.  “There’s not enough fabric,” Shirin complains. “My client doesn’t know what she wants.” As Tim approaches her workstation, she hastily tucks two large, brown feathers into the chestal area, and begins to cry. Tim advises her to “just play” and have fun with it, spread things out on the table and discover the possibilities. I wanted him to be harder on her given the pox I had so carefully placed upon her home, however I was overcome with unexpected empathy. She just needed someone to recognize that she had been given a fashion lemon.  I hope this lesson of lemonade over whine is not lost on her. It’s hard to be a hater when it comes to key learning opportunities. House pox removed for now.

Before announcing “The Divorcees,” Tim wields his mighty staff and imparts a stitch of wisdom to the designers: the client should respect the fact that one designer will be going home at the end of the show. It is the designer’s job to meet client expectations and influence them away from poor design choices. Good advice, really. I’m starting to feel some love for this show– love which turns out to be short-lived when the designers begin talking again. Nicolas (aka Snipey) fits a Divorcee with his creation and she indicates her approval by announcing her desire to have his baby. He tells her she looks fabulous or fierce or something. Cut to an intimate conversation with Nicolas, where we learn what he really thinks about his Divorcee: “She looks hideous in her outfit.” I, personally, am relieved. He just saved me the trouble of ordering yet another pox removal. They’re so expensive these days.

Since The Divorcees are not professional models, they are required to participate in Runway Walk 101, the prerequisite course to Fierce Face 203, which in turn is the prerequisite for the capstone course, Career Strategy 405: How’d Tyra Get Her Own Damn Show? Now, let me just say that most of these women already seem to have the basics of walking down pretty well at this point in their lives. How much can we reasonably expect them to improve given limited classroom time and the inability to complete the capstone course? I guess we’re about to find out.

It’s runway time, and Heidi, sternly reminds the designers, “In fashion, one day you are in, the next day you are out. From nine only eight will move on.” At this point I’m earnestly nodding in agreement: truer words were never spoken.

It’s hard for me to articulate what transpired next as I’m still in a bit of shock.  Since the last time we saw the women — I mean, The Divorcees – they have tragically transformed into hip-swaying fembots, and not in the good way. Divorcee after Divorcee mechanically sashays down the runway until all the designs are seen by Heidi and the guest judges– some important woman from Jimmy Choo and a guy, I didn’t catch his name, but I’m pretty sure he was someone. Michelle and I exchange opinions on each design prior to Judgment. Personally, I enjoyed the triple salchow.

The designers are instructed to leave the runway while Heidi and the judges deliberate. Now, I’m fairly new to the world of high fashion, however, my guess is these words, when spoken in reference to one’s work, are not so good: space bubble dress, metallic garbage bag, Oktoberfest and– my personal favorite– pirate’s wench. Brutal. Now I’ve had some pretty tough performance reviews in my day, but can honestly say that only one of those phrases actually appears in my HR file.

The din of the cymbals signals the dramatic crescendo is upon us. As expected, several designers survive the latest challenge and gratefully leave the runway. Among the saved are Whiney and Snipey, the latter inclusion bothering me a whole lot more than the former. The bottom two designers are Logan and Epperson, two reality-based people who barely annoy me at all. At this point I’m not really invested in who gets the boot, but just so you know: Epperson is out. Apparently, he missed the mark for the assignment, which was to transform the wedding dress and not simply to use the greatest amount of fabric from the old dress. Epperson gets the “auf” on both cheeks as Heidi turns the knife in the heart of yet another design casualty. And it is at this point that I begin to feel something for the first time for poor Epperson. He has talent, no doubt. He just missed the point of one assignment and, in a flash, was demoted back to reality-based real life. In his audition tape, he stated his desire to become a household name. I wonder what might become of Epperson post-Project Runway? I’m given little time to ponder the possibilities as I am halted to attention by Heidi’s teaser, “Next time on Project Runway, you will be designing for a Grammy winning artist!”

Who could it be? Mariah Carey, MC Hammer? My interest is marginal at best until I hear a preview of Heidi doling out harsh and intriguing criticism, presumably to one of the remaining designers. I stare intently at the TV screen, eyes squinted as if to summon powers beyond my control so that I may be shown who gets the boot next week. No such luck. Could it be Snipey? Dangit. Who?! Now I must know!

So what has sixty minutes of reality-based fashion TV taught me about fashion? Well, first of all I’ve learned that fashion, much like football, baseball and whittlin’, can be a rather enjoyable spectator sport. It only takes a rudimentary knowledge of “the game” to have earned the right to criticize any player on the field. Secondly, Heidi scares the bejeezus out of me. And, finally, I’ve learned that the “but wait, there’s more!” phenomenon is no longer limited to the domain of late night television infomercials. It’s mainstream now, baby. And for the record, I wasn’t going to buy my fourth set of Ginsu knives, but it came with a free Food Dehydrator. I dare you to resist that offer. I mean, it’s a Food Dehydrator, man!

—

*I believe they’ve located the gene on the Y chromosome.

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• Vintage maxi dress from Annie Creamcheese
• Gold earrings (last seen here)– a gift, I think?
• Black and gold T-strap pumps (last seen here, I think?) from Nine Studio (now Boutique 9) by Nine West, circa 2005 or so

…travel down the road and back again…

I’ve been trying to find an occasion to wear this dress, and what better than a Golden Girls-themed clothing swap?  Okay, it’s about 5 years earlier than the GG era, but it’s certainly in the spirit of dress-up.

We had a great time and, just as it was with my wedding, I was so busy organizing and making sure everyone else went home happy that it was just a bonus when I got to take home a few awesome things myself!  But more on that tomorrow.

I’m just glad I finally got to wear this dress.  And here’s what I learned: if there’s something in your closet you’ve just been dying to wear, but haven’t had the occasion to?  Make the occasion!

—

So who else was totally geeked at the JabbawockeeZ appearance on this week’s show? Man, I love them. You could say they’re performing at the Cane Everybody Who Shows Up Festival and I’d still be excited.

On the other hand, I wasn’t as excited about Lil Mama. I feel bad for dumping on her because she’s still so young. I definitely remember being a complete embarrassment at 20 and was fortunate enough to not have cameras around. But after blurting out all that transmisogynist garbage this season on Dance Crew and then bumrushing Jay-Z‘s VMA performance (hope she sent Kanye a muffin basket for that one), I think I’ve pretty much had my fill of Ms. Mama. Calgon, take her away. She needs to lay low and work out the rest of those kinks of young adulthood offscreen.

But I guess it is kinda weird I’m saying that while she’s guesting on a show that features girls her age who are just as embarrassing on film. I don’t feel like examining that double standard, so let’s just focus on our weekly lessons.

Lesson One: Don’t Be a Stealth Ninja

If I’m not mistaken, Benny Ninja has been a cycle staple since C7. So why am I always surprised to see him? Or maybe it’s less of a surprise and more of “Oh, wow; time to go to the dentist again already?” But I bet everybody would prefer to see Benny twice a year instead of the dentist.

Like, here’s a dentist horror story. About seven years ago, I went to the dentist and she filled a cavity for me while she and her hygienist talked about their stupid suburban lives. And the hygienist wouldn’t shut up about how she just got this new trampoline in the backyard and it was so funny that time she jumped on it while wearing clog mules and her shoe flew off! Ha ha ha, you guys! Anyway, the dentist finished up, told me she was done and that it’d be a little bothersome for a couple of days and sent me on my way. It was bothersome for a couple of days, and then after a few weeks, I started experiencing excruciating pain. I finally scheduled an emergency visit and it turned out that the tooth she’d worked on had developed a full-blown abscess and I needed a root canal! And it was her fault because she wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing! And I had to pay $200 for the root canal that was her fault!

I bet you nobody has a Benny Ninja horror story like that. Maybe an ex or former roommate or something, but that’s it.

Lesson Two: Model Like a Dancer

So Ashley the dancer got kicked off on the dancing episode. That’s not poetic justice; I googled it. And honestly, I don’t even know if it’s ironic anymore because of Alanis Morissette. But it does make me wonder what exactly Tyra means when she says– often– that dancers model a particular way. Whenever she trots out her unhelpful examples at panel, it just looks more dramatic, but then again, until this cycle, I thought smizing was more squinting than anything else. So maybe we need another superhero to come down from the sky and explain what the difference is, like Cirque Du Sol-Jay.

And I know Tyra thought she was being smart when she suggested that Ashley should have known her angles from working in a dance mirror, but that doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s good for body positioning, but if you’re looking at your feet and calves in the mirror, how can you know what your chin looks like from below? Dancers don’t get a head start on that, scene kids on MySpace do. Give them a cameraphone and a front seat in the car and you’re in business.

Lesson Three: Do Your Little Turn on the Catwalk

I know I’m a little late with pointing this out, but did you notice there haven’t been any My Life As a Cover Girl spots this cycle? I don’t really miss these grating, poorly narrated extended commercials for Cover Girl products featuring the previous cycle’s “winner”, but with so little news coming out from C12′s Teyona– I struggled to remember her name the other day– it almost seems unfair. I hope at the very least that she’s getting work and not waiting tables at some snack shack like Naima from Cycle 4. Sometimes you just can’t make “fetch” happen, Tyra.

Eight girls remain! The wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’! And no, I don’t mean Jay Manuel! Tune in tonight for what seems to involve martial arts in midair! I’m limbering up in anticipation!

Let’s get it (re)started.

Item: Blue felt hat

Purchased: Just a couple months ago at the DC Goodwill for $2.49

My Thoughts:  Seriously, I have no idea.  The only thing that even came to my mind is this photo from bijoux dejais via Wardrobe Remix:

Anybody?  How would you wear an old blue hat?

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• Red dress (last seen here), from Ann Taylor Loft– $20 on sale with coupon
• Jacket from Les Copains via Filene’s Basement, circa 2004
• Goldtone bracelets from Mumbai (Bombay) via my Uncle John
• Gold platform peep-toes (last seen here) from Steve Madden via Filene’s Basement– $12

Sometimes I wonder about myself.  “Self,” I say, “Can I call you ‘Self?’  Why do you continue to bother with this whole 250-outfit thing?  You’re way behind schedule.  You’ve had mono for two-and-a-half months and  you’ll probably have it for another two-and-a-half because you’re the primary breadwinner and you can’t afford to take off more than a day at a time.  In every photo you’re publicly posting to the Internet, your glands are swollen and your undereye circles are extra-dark and your pedicure is busted and your taxes are past due and even your dog doesn’t want to cuddle with you anymore.  Give it up!”

As arguments go, it’s pretty strong.  I certainly can’t find any holes in it.  But, you see…  I’m just that crazy. 

I once pushed on through a pretty severe leg cramp to become the last official finisher of the Chicago Marathon. 

26.2 miles…  in about 9 hours. 

102 more outfits in 79 days doesn’t seem quite so daunting now, does it?

As God is my witness, if I have to change outfits three times a day, I’ll do it!  At this point?  I couldn’t possibly look any crazier.

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• Black shirt dress (last seen here) from Ann Taylor Loft– $19.88 on clearance
• Chunky green necklace from Lane Bryant– $15 on sale
• Reversible belt (last seen here) by Betsey Johnson via Filene’s Basement– $16 with coupon
• Leopard print patent platforms from Loehmann’s– $14

We won’t discuss my relapse into BasicBlackAholism.  No, no, we’ll just gloss right over that.

Instead, let’s talk for a minute about minor weight fluctuations.

Since I started this site, I have gained and lost weight (estimating, here) within a range of about 10 pounds.  Doesn’t sound like a whole lot, but I’m short, and 10 pounds for me is more than one dress size.

I mean, I guess we’re all supposed to have fat jeans and skinny jeans (that is, smaller jeans, not these).  But since I lost a more significant amount of weight last year, I only have clothes that fit me within a very narrow size range.  (I kept some things from before I lost the weight, sure, but they’re all significantly too big to be of use at this point.)

So if I gain a few pounds, like I did recently with my illness and inactivity?  I’m relegated to sweatpants and maybe (at most) 1/3 of my closet.  Gretchen and Karen won’t even let me sit at the lunch table with them anymore. 

If I had more money, I’d surely buy a few new things, because I’m done with the idea that intentional weight loss (even the loss of 5 or 10 pounds) is the solution.  But I don’t, so I can’t.  And I run a fashion blog?  Wherein I post my photos?  So it’s kinda challenging?

Luckily for me, my body is exasperatingly predictable.  I’ve already lost at least some of the weight I gained (measuring all of this by clothing fit) as I have begun to recover from the mono.  But I admit this whole situation has been frustrating.  For all the spandex in my wardrobe, it’s not really big or comprehensive enough to accommodate what should be a normal, accepted vagary of life.  Because honestly, the weight thing doesn’t bother me.  It’s the not being able to fit into my favorite clothes that bugs me.  But if that’s not evidence of clothes, not bodies, being the problem, I don’t know what is. 

Now, I’m not suggesting that designers make some sort of magic garment that stretches to accomodate every person at every size (or that we all wear stretch jersey all the time).  Of course, seam allowances would be nice.  (Remember those?  Neither do I.  I was born in 1978.) 

But it’s good to be reminded that not being able to fit into a particular piece of clothing is less a problem with the individual and more a practical issue with that one particular piece of clothing.  You know?  You know.

Okay, the “frugal” kind.

I come by it honestly– my mom trained me up from toddlerhood in the art and science of bargain hunting. It honestly didn’t occur to me until I was well into my teens that you could buy the clothes at the front of the store. You know, the ones not on the clearance rack? The ones without orange stickers or big red signs hanging overhead?

I mean, I guess I knew they were for sale, but I didn’t believe that anyone actually bought them. To me, everything not on sale was kind of like a museum display. Nice to look at, but not to touch. Mom and I always made a beeline for the back of the store and did all our shopping there. Unless we had a coupon– but really, even then. (I mean, why not take AN ADDITIONAL 25% off your ALREADY MARKED DOWN item?)

This is still pretty much my M.O., though I admit there’s a bit of illogic to it at times. I am that girl who will buy a dress marked down to $40 from $200, but probably wouldn’t buy the exact same dress if it were listed at $40, full price.

In my defense, I just don’t think I should have to pay more for the same item if I can get it cheaper elsewhere, or later. A $40 dress carries the promise of being marked down to $30, or even $20. A $40 dress that was originally $200 probably won’t get any cheaper.

Of course, there are exceptions. H&M is already pretty cheap, and the way they handle their inventory, if you don’t snap it up now, it’s not likely to be there tomorrow. Forget about waiting for a sale if you really like it.

But in general, I am all about the sale rack, the Insiders Reward Card, the coupon, the mailing list.

As I get older and a little savvier, I find that I am modifying my madness to include a little more method. Now– especially for higher-ticket items– I’m into what I call “clothes stalking.” Clothes stalking involves actual interaction with those front-of-store racks. Heck– with the CS system, you even get to try on full-price merchandise at Bloomie’s and Neiman Marcus (where I was shocked to discover COMPLIMENTARY BOTTLED WATER in the dressing rooms, no lie). You take a photo of your favorites (and maybe the attached tag with the style number, etc.) and then you do a little online comparison shopping, eBay surfing, etc. You get yourself on the email list for the stores that carry That Dress and wait for sales and coupons. Then? You pounce!

It’s how I got a green version of the purple “Janis” La Rok dress on our current masthead (second from the left). Original price at Cusp?  $378.  My price, during a crazy shopbop.com sale-plus-coupon? $75.60.

Of course, it’s always gamble. I snoozed on this black sheath dress from ATL and now I can’t even find it on eBay.

It was a black sheath dress. A sheath dress. That fit me (almost). That never happens. Oh, well.

But, hey– I’m still at it. I haven’t spent my $50 Banana Republic gift card, but while I was waiting for it in the mail, I visited a local BR and tried on this number.

Hello.

It’s already been marked down to $89.99 from $132, and they have my size at a local store.  That Dress might just be in my future.

And what about you? If you read The Pretty Year, I know you hunt at least the occasional bargain, but how serious is that extra $2 discount? Do you wake up at 4 am on Black Friday to catch the sales, or do you prefer to let your fingers do the online walking? Are you willing to pay a little extra for convenience and personal shopping services, or is it all about the grimy thrift store with the $15 YSL suit waaaaaaaay in the back? Do you bring friends, or shop alone? Are you willing to take chances on catalogs and eBusinesses, or does your size-chart-shyness relegate you to brick-and-mortars?

How do you fill your closet?