Limits

I hate shopping. I am only subjecting myself to the torture this month because I really need a Nice Dinner Dress. I don't have a nice dinner dress already because, well, I am not the sort of person you invite over for a nice dinner. Not unless you really want dear Auntie Margaret to start screaming across the table in the middle of the soup course that human race is - as a whole - going straight to hell and that soulless whore with blue hair is the one leading the way.

This is not my Nice Dinner Dress

I bought my one and only formal dress on eBay seven years ago (because I mean it - I *really* hate shopping). And when I was invited to a wedding a few months back, I realized how ghastly inappropriate it was for nice events. I really didn't mean to upstage the bride. She was lovely. But the complete train wreck that was my outfit was hard to look away from. I don't have a photo, but to give you some idea, I really gravitate toward dresses like this and this. But the dress I wore was much more scant and revealing. Sharon Stone would have been ashamed.

So I need a new dress. There are company parties to go to, parties where I don't want to embarrass my Significant Other, or at least not more than he's used to. And I am not really that picky. I'd like something comfortable. Something that fits both formal events and the less-than-formal parties common in Seattle (where a t-shirt is still acceptable attire at a five-star restaurant). Something that doesn't scream slutty tasteless teenager *or* dowdy old grandmother. Something in a nice color. Something I can wear with a bra.

But after walking through the entire mall and looking in EVERY store, I realized that fashion was not in my favor this year. Pretty much all of them violated one of the rules above. Especially because strapless appears to be the big style indicator this season.

I mean, I've seen those stupid fashion shows on TV with the bitchy british blondes or Tim Gunn, offering all this advice to girls about what they should wear and how fashion is your friend. Fashion is *not* your friend. Not unless your friends are catty debutantes who talk about you behind your back and deliberately suggest outfits that make your butt look fat, just so they will look nicer by comparison. Fashion is about conformity. Conformity in color, body shape, height, quality (or lack thereof). Fashion is about buying that $500 dress at Nordstrom because everyone knows where you got it and how much it cost, and no one cares that it was made in a third-world country by sewing-challenged four-year-olds. It won't fit you nicely. It won't be a pretty color. But it will cost a lot of money. And it will probably fall apart after wearing it once, which is - let's face it - exactly what it's supposed to do.

And I am just ranting to properly express how much I hate this entire shopping industry. It's not just the act of shopping, you see, but the advertising, the sales staff, the restricted yearly color palette, the shabby end product. It's all crap. My favorite pieces of clothing have - universally - been the ones I made myself. And I am not so great with a sewing machine.

But in all my miserable search for a half-decent dress I did manage to stumble across something online the other day. In fact, this was not just a dress that I could settle on because I am tired of shopping - this was my dream dress. I loved the color. I loved the style. With minimal tinkering I could make it work with a bra. And it was a even a little quirky and playful, but dignified enough to meet a VP or two. But it's a fucking Gaultier. And it's $500.

I can't spend $500 on a dress. That is more than my entire wardrobe combined. Including shoes. It's not that I don't have $500; this is a moral dilemma thing. I am not that girl. That Sex-In-The-City girl who spends more on shoes than rent. But what if this is the only dress I like? What if there is an ocean of crap out there at the acceptable $200 and this is the only shining star? Or will this be the start of an avalanch of irresponsible spending? Will I follow this purchase with the $1500 bookcase that I've been drooling over? Will I run up my credit cards and burn down my house and find myself exactly where I was seven years ago: homeless, recklessly in debt, with no one to turn to.

*sigh*

I think there's a fine line between frugal and psychotically paranoid.