You'd think I'd know by now to stop uttering "I'll never (fill in blank here)" because history keeps proving that the minute those words leave my mouth, I've pretty much sealed my doom: the very thing I've just sworn off is guaranteed to come to pass.
The latest example? Well, after a lifetime of mocking the easy-care common house dress, of poking fun at that humble housewife staple in all its simple glory, I'm suddenly the proud owner of just such an item.
It's not really a house dress. It's quite cute. I bought it because I was looking for a new summer robe and it fit the bill perfectly. Now, I bought it at KMart, not Macy's or Nordstrom or any of those more respected shops. But it was, after all, in the sleepwear department. (Although, in all fairness, there is no house dress department.) And the tag didn't say House Dress; it said Shift. So, it's not actually a house dress at all. It snaps up the front (I know, I know, snaps—does anyone use those anymore???) and it has polka dots and a little pan collar and it's kind of darling.
But in the recesses of my mind, I know it's a house dress. The baggy, undefined waist that frees me from sucking in the tummy, the big patch pockets in front, the snaps, and—a sure sign—the 50% cotton, 50% polyester blend all point me very clearly in the direction of the house dress.
In truth, I've decided to embrace the entire movement. I might even wear it outside to get the paper. Or to feed to birds. I haven't yet, but why not? It's sort of a strange blend of dress and robe; other people step outside in their fuzzy, belted post-bath gear and think nothing of it, so why not my fun, forgiving little dress of sorts? The scary thing is that I can foresee this sort of fashion faux pas becoming a regular part of my wardrobe in a few years. It's part of the natural progression, you see. First my high heels went by the wayside, then any shoes with laces, then my pants with real waistbands, then the shirts that required tucking... All that's left, really, is my final descent into one-piece, shapeless muumuus that either zip or snap (buttons will be far too much work by then).
If I get to that point, I suppose I'll need to acquire a truckload of cats, and perhaps a whole lot of mothballs. I'm not there yet, but it's good to have a plan, you know?
6 comments:
OK, now I want one. I just pulled on shorts and a T to go out to water the plants. It would be much more fun in your little outfit. Maybe with a little scarf (not a "do-rag") tying up my hair? (But no one better say I'm turning into my mother -- them's fightin' words.)
Chris H--sorry, I had some weirdness when I tried to publish your comment--blogger failed me. yours came through now, followed by my cut-and-pasted one for you. stupid blog site.
ACK. DO NOT give in to the housedress! This is the first step down the path to ruin. Pretty soon you'll be pinning up your hair with bobbypins and rolling down your hose! Throw it out. Burn it. Buy pants with a zipper so you'll be forced to suck in your gut.
I don't know, Athelas--I don't see it as a path to ruin. More of a path to freedom. I've long said that the only good thing about aging is that I care less and less what people think. I'll keep it to "summer robe" status for now... but I'm not ruling anything out.
Don't worry, most of my pants and even many skirts still have zippers; I've not quite gone down the path yet.
P.S. I can't roll down my hose--I stopped wearing those, too.
I would often wear yoga pants or the less form-fitting workout pants with the stripe down the side to pick up Jordan from school. At least a few days I would go running, but the other days, not so much, but I just did not care. Why would I want to impress these people by dressing up? I say wear the dress with the pride, but leave it at home if you are going out to eat.
You don't dress up to impress others. You dress up for self-worth and pride in yourself. THEN for others. You don't want your husband to look and think "ick, who is that?" or your children to cringe with shame when you pick them up from school. Or people to shake their heads in pity after you pass by.
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