Barney's Loft 1, Hey Pretty 1

Don't ask me why, but today I thought it might be fun to spend a month's worth of grocery money on a new outfit.* Of course, the most logical location to acheive this feat would be at Barney's Coop up in Friendship Heights. I was up there anyway, stalking the J Crew there for wool cable knit sweaters (for days when I feel like a preppy girl). J Crew was a disapointment, but I did leave with a lovely tortishell hairband. Anyhoo, Barneys. I wasn't seeing much until I stumbled upon the most be-yoot-i-ful inky blue silk top. Long, three-quarter length sleeves, v-neck, something to be worn both to work and out on the town. Something totally stylie yet versitile, and more importantly, something that I would look 100 percent gorgeous in. In other words, I was willing to overlook the price tag, to eat Ramen for a month, because I HAD to have it, and this happens rarely with me and inanimate objects. I see the sizes on the rack--a couple "Ps" (code for even smaller than small) and one lonely medium. I grabbed it, as that is my typical size. In the fitting room I discover that my prize is slightly to small. It fits okay, but not well enough to justify the cost. I decide to swallow my pride and see if there's a large. But there isn't. I inquire with the saleswoman.

"Actually, that top doesn't come any larger than a medium."

Say what?

It's not that it's out of stock, it's that the designer made a decision at some poing to not make a shirt larger than an 8/10. And that's an 8/10 in swanky trendy clothing which is runs smaller than your typical BR, Gap, sizes.

Sigh.

My self esteem was prepared to take a nose dive, but for some reason it did not. Isn't that a great sign of maturity on my part, that I didn't let a silly inanimate object determine my level of happieness? I think so. Afterall, self esteem plummeting is a power reserved for boys, bosses, and surley waitresses (okay, not really).

So. I returned to my 'hood, remembering that I needed new shoes and that Carbon recently opened a new branch near the Metro. And what did I find there? First of all, the owner was his usual chatty self, although after buying four pairs of shoes at his U Street store, it might be nice if he could manage to remember me. But what ev, he was as charming as always. And more importantly, I snagged a pair of knee high boots (black) with a lovely round toe, a heel of managable height (I'm very accident prone and can't be trusted with anything higher than 2 inches), that lace all the way up the front. Funkier than I might have liked, but so versitile I couldn't pass them up.

So. I didn't get the top. But the boots I will wear every day until April and then some next year. Not a total loss afterall.

*The reason is this--I just returned from several days with my mom. Although Mama HP was a hippy in her younger years, her tastes have returned to their ultra-refined origins, and subsequently, vacay at Chez Mama HP is a bit more luxerious than what I am used to in my normal life. Therefore, I often forget that I'm actually a little poor whenever I get back from hanging out with her. A few days of living off of whole wheat toast of hummus usually snaps me back to reality real quick.

And since, I am rambling, I will report that I just returned home from a fabu birthday dinner honoring Ames, one of my oldest friends. And her friends are equally fabulous. And how grown-up did I feel, returning home at 10:00 rather than staying out all late and getting silly trashed (I still like that of course, but sometimes a not-so-late-night is refreshing).

In Valerie123 style, I am taking comments. Specific ones. Tell me something--your latest shopping related humiliation, or something you always need to adjust to whenever you come home from visiting your parents.

And I'm sorry, but I'm slightly tipsy as I type this, and really don't care to spell check right now. So there.