Cut Me Some Slacks!

So I had a big wardrobe crisis this morning. See, last night I went to Javier's to cook dinner and stay over. But when I got there, "Oh no," I said, because I forgot to bring work clothes for today! It's only my first week back at a desk job. I haven't worked a desk job in over a year, and I haven't had to be "business casual" in almost five. Add this all up with the fact that not only am I not really a "business casual" type of girl to begin with, and you can see how the mistake happened.

The thing is, I could have just gone home and gotten an outfit for the next day, but yesterday was very draining and sad and full of tears, and getting out of my house really took some doing. And some tears. Which is another reason why I forgot to grab an outfit, and also the reason I didn't want to go back at that very moment. Like when someone dies onstage, but there's no curtain, so they spend a really long time dying dramatically, but then the effect is kind of ruined when they jump up in the dark to get offstage. Kind of like that.

Instead, I was full of good intentions and ready to make a lovely yet healthy dinner. "Don't worry about it," I assured Javier. "I'll just figure out what I'm going to wear tonight, then tomorrow just go home and grab it. I've done it a billion times to go to Boulder Creek when I've forgotten my uniform. It's fine."

He continued to look concerned. Silly boy! Except for the fact that I of course did not at all remember to plan out my outfit in my head.

No problem though! I woke up full of good intentions. Possibly because last night I was talking about doing improv in the city years back, I was very confident in my ability to act quickly, with ease. No problem, picking out an outfit. All I had to do was go home, open my closet doors, and get dressed!

There were a couple of problems with this scenario, the most obvious one being that my clothes aren't really "hanging up in my closet," strictly speaking. They are more "all over my bed and the closet floor and random places." My room's actually been very lovely lately, but the new job is kicking my ass right now, with the adjustment to early mornings. Also, I'm moving to a different part of my house in like, a week, so I'm not as motivated to keep things up. Especially due to the aforementioned sadness and tears.

But the biggest reason that my room is a bit tornado-esque right now is more the result of the little detail that I don't exactly *have* business casual clothing to begin with.

Well, why would I, exactly! I've been dressing in a uniform and/or like a dirtbag for work for five years now! Anything that I wore back in the day is pretty useless, or "missing from storage" (blog to follow at some point). Maybe when I get a paycheck or two I'll buy some stuff out of necessity, but like...

I HATE IT.

I hate looking "corporate;" I feel like Claire on "Six Feet Under" when she starts singing to her pantyhose on her desk. And I know, I know, I have to be a grownup, but that doesn't mean I don't have to hate it. See, one of the reasons that I never minded wearing a uniform was that a uniform makes for a very level playing field. What are you gonna do, yada yada, focus on other things and move on with life. Ideally, with cute accessories!

And I adore costumes, as you know. What it says about me that I'd rather dress as a schoolgirl assassin than a respectable adult, I don't know, but there you have it. I love jeans, tshirts, cardigans, hippie skirts, fishnet, leather, soft soft cotton sundresses. I love variety!

But I canNOT rock the business casual. Seriously, give me any other type of outfit, and I'll be fine. But as I've discussed before, I just can't do the whole dressing up for work thing.

Now, some people can rock business casual like nobody's business, day in and day out. Javier, for example, was born for button-down shirts and "slacks." He goes off to work every day literally looking like a model. That look works for him.

It does not work for me, at least not on a daily basis. However, all was not lost. I had my black pants from Mandee that I wear to Boulder Creek, and they are nice and I could just pair them with a random shirt. Not perfect, but totally fine.

Except for the hole right under the zipper that I'd totally forgotten about because it is a non-issue at work thanks to my apron.

WHAT? I'm poor.

Not only did I have no black pants, but I had no black pantyhose, which seriously left me in a real bind. WHAT TO DO. I could NOT be late, and I could NOT have a panic attack. But...do you know those times, where it's like you keep getting this close to having a whole outfit, but then one vital piece is missing, so you have to start from scratch? And the panic mounts while your eyes get increasingly desperate. At one point, I tried on my Blossom dress --Doyle with a pair of wool slacks. You never know.

Finally, finally, I came across these brown pants that have been sitting in my closet (usually (and not literally)) for like, years now. Every now and then my mom is at like, Kohls or T.J. Maxx and decides to buy me grownup clothes because I wear something that she finds particularly horrifying. So I had these brown pants that were actually really cute; I just never could wear them before because they were too tight.

Not anymore!

SCORE.

Of course, I don't wear brown pants, so with the rest of my outfit I came up with in ten seconds, I still look more like the girl you'd find on a guitar player's couch somewhere smoking weed, but whatEVER, because I was DRESSED.

Did I make it to work on time? Yes I sure did! That was not the problem. The problem is--and will remain--that these pants suck.

Why? WHY! They should not suck! They have everything going for them, in terms of stuff that usually looks good on me. But like, I don't think I look fat or anything, but if you were to look at these pants on the hanger you would just assume, "Good ass pants." Meaning, fit into these pants and you are guaranteed an exceptionally cute ass for the whole day! They're those kind of pants! You know?

But no. They do nothing for me. I don't look bad, but it's like, eh, whatever. Adding to this obnoxiousness are the freaking pockets. WHY ARE THERE POCKETS IN WOMEN'S SLACKS?

(I hate the word "slacks" by the way, but I'm trying to speak the business casual language. Must keep it real and all.)

Seriously though. I understand about useful pockets, for storage and things. But these pockets are nothing more than little, useless little wool (Cotton? Polyester? I don't know, whatever) pimples jutting out at the sides of these pants.

Now, look. I know my body, and that not everybody can wear every style, yada yada yada. And I'm very curvy, and prefer not to disrupt my natural body lines, because that's what flatters me personally. But honestly, I do not see how any single woman on the face of the earth would benefit from these stupid pockets. So the question is: Why are the pockets there? It must ostensibly take more work and material to put pockets on pants (slacks). Why not just not leave them out altogether?

We may never know. What I do know is that I definitely need Stanley Tucci to come and buy me clothes pretty soon, before I show up to work in a corset shirt and freaking culottes. I can't do this on my own. But I promise not to become a bitch like Anne Hathaway did. What crazy person would rather hang out with a mean lady at a stupid fancy ball than with her cool boyfriend and friends at an awesome dive bar?

So I think the only route I can take now, assuming Tucci doesn't actually come to my rescue, is to keep losing more weight and adopt that look of pinched defeat you see on women in offices so often. Give me enough time, and the look may create itself!

I'll keep you posted.



©2007