Yeah, so not talking about fancy-pants agility moves here or fancy-pants ass passes or even fancy agility. Nothing about agility at all. Just talking about being fancy. As in dressing up a little.
I haven’t worked in an actual office for over 15 years. I left the country club scene 7.5 years ago. Or rather, my ex got custody of the country club scene. I didn’t fight him for it. I knew it wasn’t for me when no one saw the sly humour in my ’50s style cocktail dress in a martini print. I moved to the greater Seattle area a decade and a half ago. Seattle is known for its plentiful fleece. I rarely date, and when I do, men immediately sense that I’m the kind of woman who enjoys a good burger and fries over lobster bisque.
Which is all to say that I rarely dress up or even wear make-up.
I purged all of my fancy suits several years ago from my closet. Another purge saw me give away all of my fancy cocktail and party dresses. I still need to do a lot more purging, but the former fashionista in me bravely hangs on to the remaining dresses, skirts and pretty blouses. Considering that the only catalogs that still come to my house consist of a regular rotation of Eddie Bauer, Patagonia, REI and Merrell really, I need to do further purging.
In January, I cleaned out an entire closet filled with fancy and pretty shoes, most of them three-inch heels. See, not only was I a clothes horse, but I was an Imelda too. I’m not even going to explain that one. You either get it or you don’t. Yup, a few tears leaked out on that one as I gently held each pair for a few last precious seconds.
But occasionally, I like to make myself feel good, tell myself I still got it (a little) and wear make-up and put on a skirt.
Okay, make-up only consists of mascara and a stroke of eyeliner, but it’s far beyond what I usually do. Nothing.
Today’s “fancy” outfit was comprised of a skort, a slightly fancy tee shirt and sandals. Tevas though. Because I wouldn’t want to shock myself.
The grand occasion for this change from the usual not-fancy tee shirt and cargo pants was a trip to the bank and a few other mundane errands. In a pleasant surprise, I ended up doing lunch with the friend I met at the bank. Okay, it was at a diner, the sort of place where you look around for Flo slinging hash and filling up umpteen cups of bitter bad coffee, but it was a legitimate outing.
The looks of awe and surprise on my dogs’ faces about my outfit were hysterical.
“Aw Human Mommy! You look very fancy today,” came from Camm, who was clearly a bit nervous and stressed about the change and proceeded to seek reassurance by jumping on me.
Ah, one slightly dirty paw print to the fancy tee shirt. Not to worry. it was easily rectified by the addition of a light cardigan.
Brady took the opportunity to tell me how good I smelled by sticking his head under my skort.
“Momma, you smell so fresh and nice today. And nice to look under your skirt-thing.”
Youke was just slightly freaked out. softly wagging, but keeping at a bit of a distance.
“Mom, I see you’re fancy today. Are you leaving me?”
Only Jasmine appeared nonplussed. But then again, she was around during the country club years.