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Odd Angles
If the shirt fits: The only thing I hate more than clothes shopping is malls. Yet, there I was at the mall looking for a shirt, and all because the nicely dressed ladies at work make me look like a slob. If I've told them once, I've told them a thousand times -- I don't need their help.I found what seemed to be the perfect shirt at my favorite store: any store closest to where I park. This doesn't always work out, like the time the closest store was a tobacconist shop. Their clothing selection stunk, but they had nice smoke rings. By the way: It was right next to the bad puns store.
Anyway, because I was too impatient to wait for a fitting room, I shoved this seemingly perfect shirt back into the rack. It was a week before I returned. During that time, all characteristics of the shirt grew: its color would match everything in my closet, its styling would make me look 10 years younger, and the $5.99 clearance price would save me enough to buy a new car.
It had become THE shirt and it was going to change my life.
After a week, I returned to the store and there it was: a black shirt with pink polka dots and puff sleeves. It was no longer on clearance, but it was still marked down -- now $6.99. The new car would have to wait.
I took it into a fitting room, along with a few other items. My plan was to build up the moment by trying on THE shirt last. Sadly, that really was my plan.
I finally got to THE shirt, put it on and, smiling, turned to look at myself in the full-length mirror. My face dropped faster than last week's Dow average. Pink polka dots? Puffy sleeves? At best, the design would blend in with my brown liver polka dots/spots and land me an interview with Big Apple Circus.
That is why I always try on clothes first and would never shop from a catalog. It's like dating -- you'd never make a commitment to someone based on a photo and a description because people (including clothing manufacturers) tend to exaggerate. Fitting rooms are where I take clothing blind dates: I check them out to see if it's a good match. I usually decide within a few minutes if it's going to work out.
Although most catalogs provide sizing charts, I have a self-diagnosed skin allergy to measuring tapes. Plus, the charts are confusing, embarrassing, depressing and, at times, pretty funny. Like the one in Lands End where, under how to measure the bust area, it says, "If possible, get a friend to help." Listen, I've got a few very dear friends who have helped me with babysitting, fund-raising and carpooling. But this pushes the limits of friendship into a territory I'm not prepared for.
As for the directions for measuring height, one catalog suggests measuring "from the floor to the top of your head." That clears things up for folks who do not know what "height" means. Another recommends standing "on a level floor," which is directed to women who may measure themselves while logrolling or skiing.
When it comes to odd phrasing, measuring the hips is the clear winner. My favorite: "Hips/Seat: Measure around fullest point of seat while standing." Coincidentally, I called some guy "the fullest point of seat" in traffic the other day.
That same catalog gave these instructions: "High Hip and Low Hip: about 4 inches or so below your natural waist and about 8 inches or so below your natural waist, before the thigh begins narrowing in again." Two questions: What's an unnatural waist and what if my thighs don't narrow until the ankle area?
Catalogs may have convenience, but they lack the one thing I need: a fitting room. So that's where I'll be, having a clothing blind date to ensure pink polka dot shirts don't make it into my closet.
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