Me N The City: Part 12 – The End of a Dream

I looked out over the sea of fabric and people. How was I ever gonna find Sarah? As I wandered the Land of the Lost, I finally found her back by the suits. She had found an ADORABLE pin striped suit but much like me was concerned about whether or not it would fit. We both glanced across the store at the line for the fitting rooms and wordlessly eliminated that from our options. With a quick glance around, Sarah said to me “Ok, I am going to head over here into this corner and you are going to ‘look at’ clothes around me”. I blinked for a second but then got her vibe. So we headed over to the corner of the store where, fortunately for her, there were not many people milling around. Getting as wedged into the corner as she could, she began to shimmy out of her slacks. I stood in front of her with my back to the crowd, found a very large sweater and held it up in to “examine” it in detail.

As she pulled on the pants of the suit she was considering she started to laugh. “What?” I asked. She said “Well the security guards are going to get something to see in the cameras. I’m ‘Sysco’ right now.” Ummm what? Then I got it – the one hit wonder R&B singer with the bleached blonde hair. Anyone remember his big hit? Say it with me now…Thong Tha Thong Thong Thong. I had to laugh out loud. Here was Sarah, in a couture warehouse in NYC trying on pants out in the open while wearing a thong. This is why I love her!

But it was lucky that she did try them on - they didn’t fit. Now we were both bummed. She loved that suit – and I could see why… it was fabulous. Slowly our sky high expectations of our visit to Century 21 were being dashed on the rocks of frustration. I glanced at my watch – it was 4:30. We still had to hit the subway for a 20 min trip back to midtown and then we had dreamed of a refreshing nap before spending a ridiculous amount of time getting dressed and ready. I turned to Sarah and shared my concern… we weren’t going to get to peruse the kids, mens, or shoe section. Talk about crushing disappointment. We both decided to at least give it one more shot around the floor to hope against hope the perfect thing would jump right out at us.

It didn’t. After 20 more minutes I examined my finds as I headed to the checkout counter. I had my adorable quirky Save the Queen skirt, my amazing fashion-forward Vivienne Westwood Red Label suit, a couple pieces of cashmere I had grabbed along the way, my Ellen Tracy “fall back” dress, A cute “no-name” distressed t-shirt dress I happened upon, and my Dolce Dress… my sweet little Dolce dress. I stood off to the side of the store and looked over each piece one by one.

The skirt – while it was amazing and unique, it wasn’t something I could wear at work (too unique!) so while it was great, it wouldn’t get a lot of use and so for the price, it had to go back. I plunked it down on the nearest rack (let someone else search high and low for it). The Westwood suit – again an amazing piece of art, but for almost $400 could I justify something that may or may not fit? My reasonable brain took over and I knew I couldn’t face my husband if it ended up not working. Plunk. (cringe). The cashmere – considering you can get 100% cashmere at Old Navy now, did I really need these? I had a great navy Ralph Lauren private label cashmere wrap dress. That would get me by. Plunk. The distressed t-dress – ok it was $35, it was cute and by God I was keeping it. Score one. The Ellen Tracy dress – again, it was cheap at $75, it was cute, and every girl needs as many LBD’s (little black dresses) as she can afford. Score two. What’s left? The Dolce dress – what could I do? What should I do? What would Heidi do? Could I diet to a size 4? Maybe it would be my diet muse – that push I needed. Then I remembered that Karl Lagerfeld dress I had in my closet that I bought 4 years ago using this very same argument. It was a size 2 – I was a size 6 (at the time)… I figured I could do it. Its still sitting in my closet with its little tags hanging off the side, feeling unloved. I knew I had to let the dream die. I gave the dress a tiny little hug and then…. Plunk. (sob).

I hunted down Sarah once again and we both headed to the counter. I realized that I was walking away with a fancy version of a t-shirt from a designer I’d never heard of, and a dress that I could have bought back home in Iowa at our local department store. I was a couture failure. While my husband would be thrilled at the lack of financial output, I was crushed. This was supposed to be my finest hour and instead it turned into a colossal, frustrating, waste of time. What had I become?

We waited in line for our turn, rang up our purchases and at 5:00 headed back to the subway to return to the hotel. As we set foot in our hotel room with the air of two people returning from a funeral, we set the alarm on the bedside clock for 6:00, plopped down in the bed and drifted off to sleep hoping the nap would break the depressing karma of the day and that dinner at Butter would be everything we imagined and more…

… to be continued.