I only like one or two of the blouses I own. I am on an unending quest to find and purchase tops, to expand my wardrobe to one week’s worth of desirable, work-appropriate clothing. Also, I loathe clothes shopping, almost more than I despise shoe shopping.
Once in a while, I will check out the clearance section at Target or the petite sale racks at JC Penney. Occasionally, I will stop by a discount store like T.J. Maxx or a thrift shop or a consignment store. Rarely, I will buy something at a retail clothing outlet that looks fantastic and is full-price. Sometimes I shop online. It doesn’t matter, though. I never like any of it. That’s why I tend to shop the sales. If I’m not going to like it, I might as well pay the least amount possible.
I had a yellow cable knit sweater that I really liked. It probably worked its way into the rotation once a week. Probably everybody was starting to call me Cable Girl behind my back. I didn’t care. It looked great. It was a mystery and an enigma. I had paid $7 for it.
Then it shrunk. Our new dryer shrinks everything, even the things it has previously shrunk and shrunk twice before that. My yellow cable sweater hangs in the shadows of the closet now.
A few weekends ago, I found a burgundy sweater at Herbergers. It was $9. I bought an extra large so that it could shrink a few times without incident. The sleeves were really, really, really long, but other than that, I actually loved the burgundy sweater.
There was one tiny, annoying thing about the burgundy sweater: a hard tag with the name of the designer on it. It was cold and metallic. So I cut it off.
Now there are two large holes in my burgundy sweater.
It’s a shame, because it’s been washed twice and is still extra large.
I have a square-cut pink sweater that I bought at a thrift store for a few dollars. Also very cute and I thought would absolutely go into the rotation. I wore it to work on the same day I ate a calzone over my keyboard. It’s my art smock now.
Disposable clothing. This is an untapped market. If someone can make something that actually looks cute on my pear-shaped body coupled with my potato-shaped head, then I think they might really have something. They could sell five identical sweaters in a pack. Like plastic utensils, if you get lucky and don’t break them, you can wash and repeat until you do.
Now I kind of want a calzone.