I have a receipt I’ve been keeping in my wallet, dated April 11, 2010.
This date is significant. Here’s why.
On that Sunday, I wandered into a little shop in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where I now live. The store was called Sweet Charity, and I was immediately a huge fan, not only because the owner gives a portion of her profits to animal rescue organizations (yay kitty cats!), but also because she goes out of her way to stock clothes for curvy women, since she herself is curvy.
I began thumbing through the sale rack (natch) and found a navy blue knit dress by Japanese designer Aoyama Itchome.
The dress hugged in all the right places, and blithely floated over the, ahem, wrong ones. There was a little tie at the top, a bit of embroidered embellishment, but aside from that it was perfectly simple and elegant.
“Do you watch Mad Men?” she asked.
“I’ve only seen every episode about three times,” I said.
“Well, you look just like Joan Holloway in that dress.”
That did it. In case you don’t know (and if you don’t, shame on you), Joan Holloway is the busty redhead that all the men in the show drool over unabashedly.
She was also the favorite character of my then bf, who liked that she was clever and tough with a major dose of sexy.
This dress made me look like her? Sold.
I’m not saying I specifically bought it because I thought my bf would like it, but it did make it that much easier to carry that dress up to the register.
About three weeks later my bf broke up with me suddenly. I won’t go into the details (it had nothing to do with the dress)— this is a blog about clothes and shopping, after all.
Meantime, between those two events (buying the dress and being, well… um… dumped), the dress quickly became one of my go-to pieces. Over the next three weeks I wore it to a work event. I wore it to what turned out to be the last Friday night dinner we would ever share together. A couple days later I wore it to a birthday party for his nephew, not realizing then that I likely will not see this nephew, or any of the other three little ones, grow up.
So what does April 11th have to do with all this? Not much, I guess, except it was the last time I shopped with any kind of excitement or pleasure. It seems there’s nothing like a bad breakup to ruin a perfectly good Bloomingdale’s afternoon.
I’ve done a little shopping since, for necessities mostly, but somehow these days the pleasure has just evaporated. I’ve frankly never experienced anything like it. Ms. Crisis in Denim not wanting to shop?! Who could ever imagine? It would be like a dog saying ‘no thanks’ to a bone. But so it is.
At least all this drama has been good for my wallet, and I’ve taken up doing some shopping in my closet.
Which will be the subject of the next post. Crisis in Denims is, well, maybe having another kind of crisis, so this blog may have a slightly different feel. Though it will still be riotously funny, just like before.
Plus, Ms. Crisis in Denim lives in New York now. So if the urge to shop ever returns, she’ll be having many new sartorial adventures.
And you can still see all the old posts, so don’t worry.
Speaking of which: I was browsing through them the other day and came across one from March 2009, in which I wrote about my bf and how he asked me how many pairs of shoes I had. In this post, I wrote:
“I want this relationship to work, and I want it badly. I want it more than I wanted a Benetton sweatshirt for Hannukah in 8th grade, and that’s saying a lot.”
Well. At least I got the Benetton sweatshirt.