This past weekend was spent with the girls. I trek up to Wisconsin and we take our yearly trip to the biggest fall craft show I’ve ever been to. It’s a lot of fun. A crisp fall day, spiked apple cider in our thermos, good friends, and lots of fun shopping.
This year was a little different. It was unusually warm, the tents the crafters were in were actually hot, and instead of spiked warm cider, we decided to start the day with bloody marys. It wasn’t a great fall day … not the kind of day for fall crafting. So we made our way through there quickly and hit the local sports bar. After a few beers, we decided our next move: “To Macy’s!”
Now, of the four of us, I am no doubt the most “low maintenance.” I don’t carry big bags or small dogs as accessories. I don’t wear much makeup or high heals to craft fairs. I’m your typical jeans and t-shirt kind of girl.
After my last and most recent devastating break up, my friend decided maybe a change in my style was in order. So first stop—sunglasses. I’ve always resisted the large frames. I have two pairs I love, Ralph and Guess, but they’re both small. She had me trying on large ones with her. Well, they looked good in the store, so I bought them. A week later, my bigger framed Ralph Lauren glasses are in my dresser drawer. One hundred dollars—did you hear me? One hundred dollars! And they’re sitting in my dresser drawer. They all swear they look good on me, but I’m not comfortable … they’re not even polarized!
Next stop—tops. She tried to talk me into a little argyle sweater vest with a white blouse (poofy sleeves) underneath. She tells me it’s both “feminine and masculine.” (What’s that supposed to mean?) Tries every line in the book. “You have a tiny waist, you can pull it off.” “You just need to get used to it.” I’m not feeling it. I don’t bite. We go back home, I slip into sweats, and we drink more beer. I have no fashion sense. No cute little dresses, no hip tops, no big bags, just the basics. Sometimes I wished I dressed a little cuter. Would it help my love life? Would I feel better? I don’t know.
At home again, I stop at the gas station. Something funny happened inside and everyone in there engaged in a quick conversation. One guy starts talking to me. His friend is there. Both single. He asks me if I’m single. We walk out together. His friend comes out. I get in my car. “Can we have your number?” Well, I’m truly flattered! I declined. Being newly heartbroken, I’m truly not interested. But you know what I was wearing? Jeans, a t-shirt, flip flops, and a baseball hat with my hair in a pony. Not a stitch of makeup … and my small framed sunglasses. I guess the trends of the moment really don’t matter after all.