Whimsey Girl
Friday, May 26, 2006, 9:50 PM


I got off work today at 1:00 in early anticipation of Memorial Day. That's how it works where I work--we get off early on a Friday if there's a holiday on Monday.

Have you ever noticed how a short day drags into what seems like a nine-hour kind of day? I suppose it's because so many people are already off on vacation, whether it's by body or mind, so there's not a lot of work going on. But next Tuesday is looming in the back of my mind, so I'm industriously leaping hurdles, scanning for potholes and roadkill so I'll have the turtle's confidence and determination going on when the rabbit approaches on Tuesday.

Because I know he will, that wascally wabbit.

Anyway, back to the idea of me getting off work at one ... I decided to pop into a clothing store I've been wanting to check out for a while now. I love their window displays. So far they've done flowers (artificial, although I thought they were real at first), tin foil, white satin, and red velvet. Classy, classy, classy.

But surely they can't be outrageously expensive, I reasoned. I mean, the flowers aren't real, and they probably use generic tin foil for the silver window display because everyone knows 150' of Reynolds wrap costs your left pinkie. And the shop is next to a space that has been vacant for months, so business probably isn't heavy. Right?

So I ventured inside today. The shop is manned by beautiful men, smiling, radiant, friendly, beautiful men. And I like these kind of men just as much as the next girl, but I don't think I was ready for the idea of a gorgeous man telling me that maybe I'm not a not a size five anymore. Not that that that mattered once I saw the price tag on the filmy pink dress (with the empire waist and floaty handkerchief hem). Three. Hundred. Fifty. Dollars.

"Let me know if you'd like to try anything on or if you'd like me to get you anything," one of the guys said.

I started babbling. "Oh, I'm not here to buy anything. At least not today. I just want to look. I pass by this place every day." Blah, bleurgh, sputter, help me.

"What do you mean you've never been here?!"

"I'm here now." And I'm dying. Dying.

I wander down the racks of clothing, all of it gorgoreous and just my type. I'm looking at the price tags without trying to be obvious about it. The delicate flowing tops and dresses with curved necklines and empire waists are just the type of clothing I've been looking for ... and they're way out of my price range. How can I justify spending over $200 on a shirt? Or $450 for a dress I'd have to buy a new pair of shoes for?

I wander over to the shoes. Gorgeous satiny shoes, sparkly shoes, sexy shoes. There's a friggen leather bow tie on the back of one of the three-inch high heels. I wish I could wear something like that without risking life and limb. Some of the shoes are almost flat and look wearer-friendly. And then I spy the Mary Jane ballerina shoes with ankle-to calf laces. They come in cream and tan, black, red, white. If you're willing to fork out $375 bucks.

Guess I'll stick with my Mary Jane sneakers. I have a white pair, a black pair and a pink pair, and I bought them at Kohl's for $20 each. There weren't any nifty flower or tin foil window displays, but I've never been what you'd call a Material Girl.

I'm a Whimsey Girl.

9 Did the Unhingey Jiggy Engage in Unhingenosity
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .