Clothes Make the Man. And the Woman.

When I first started waiting tables at the pizza shop, I was very nervous - always looked harried even when I wasn't (or shouldn't have been) - you get the picture. I was an old dog trying to learn a new trick. Then came Halloween and we decided to dress up. I bet you could guess what I dressed up as. I've given you enough hints.

It ain't easy, living like a gypsy...
Gypsies tramps and thieves...
I'm the gypsy - the acid queen...

I wish I resembled the first.
I only represent 66 odd% of the second (I've never stolen anything...)
The third was just thrown in for the power of three. (Honest.)


But I've digressed.

I donned my gypsy garb and was suddenly confident, competent and charming.

Even my boss noticed the difference.

It's true that when we get dressed up, we fall into the character that we're portraying. Well, it's true that I do, anyway. I read an article once that said your favorite Halloween costume - as a child or an adult - said a lot about who you were, or who you wanted to be.

Gypsy, or a pirate variation thereon, have always been my go to costumes of choice. I can usually pull either of those together on any given day out of things that get regular wear in my closet. I have bad hair - I like headscarves. I have big hips - I like long loose skirts. I have a good deal of estrogen - I like bling. What can I say?

I hadn't meant to spend so much time talking about Halloween in July.

Sorry.

Ahem.

I wanted to talk more about everyday dress-up.

Take yesterday, for example.

I was feeling Down. Frumpy. Old. Useless.

I'll stop.

No-one wants to visit that tangent...

So I looked at my wardrobe options.

I could dress to reinforce - and indulge - those feelings, or I could dress to fight them.

I opted for the latter.

I pulled out a pretty new maxi dress I'd been 'saving'. I would've saved it all summer and that would've been a darn shame. 'Cause it's a pretty dress. And you know what looks good with a pretty dress? A pretty summer maxi sundress? Well a big sunhat, duh. I told you I have bad hair. Sometimes I wonder if you're even listening. Sigh. I put on the hat and looked in the mirror. Almost... THERE we go! Big sunglasses FTW.

It looked good.

I had nowhere to go.

Then I realized I didn't HAVE to go anywhere.

I went to my deck - the only part of my house that I love - in my dress and my hat and my shades and I read.

I felt positively elegant. (I wasn't)

When I went to have cocktails (read: beers on the patio) later with friends (sans hat and sunglasses, as it was approaching dusk) I started lamenting on my dental and financial woes. My brilliant sister said, "We should get you on extreme makeovers! Then you'll get all the dental work free! And a bunch of other stuff, too!" On a day when I was feeling less elegant, I might have taken offense at how quickly they started rattling off the list of things that a show like that could do for me... but it was my day to be elegant, so it was water off a duck. A fancy duck. Then one said, and all agreed, that they couldn't send my picture in in that dress, though - because it was too darn pretty and wouldn't garner enough sympathy to result in all my free upgrades.

See?

It worked!

Dress the part/play the part.

I think today I'll be a princess.
(don't hold your breathe for pics)
Girls! Fetch Momma her tiara!