That dress belonged to me.
But I didn’t buy it, because I wasn’t convinced. It was on clearance – just $13 at nearly half price – and I wasn’t convinced. Why? Because I was trying to be frugal and responsible. What a ridiculous idea.
I usually make weekly trips to Target twice a week, and I’m slowly learning that this could be standing between me and financial independence. The store is pretty much my favorite place on Earth: No snooty sales people, plenty of clearance racks, large dressing rooms, a sizable shoe section and the best selection of bagged underwear you’ll ever find. You can see how things quickly get out of control – what with all the clearance racks and the bagged underwear. Anyway, since I’ve started to realize that Target sucks money out of my wallet faster than a tapeworm at a buffet, I’ve begun attempting to buy out of necessity only.
Apparently the $13 sundress was my first stand. And probably my last. People will tell you that karma rewards those who are economical. Real talk: You have to wait years for those rewards, and in the meantime, you’ll be passing up perfectly adorable sundresses left and right.
Of course, the only reason I’m so convinced that this dress belonged to me is because I did not buy it. Had I bought it, it would have turned into a disaster overnight in my closet. That’s Murphy’s Law of Whim Buys.
I’m not exactly sure what happens to these clothes, but something changes them once you put them in a real closet. It’s as if Whim Buys don’t want a home. I have an entire drawer reserved for clothes that look adorable and edgy…as long as I’m wearing them in a dressing room. Put these clothes on anywhere else, and I may as well be wearing a clown suit.
Oversized flannel, cropped tees, Navajo prints, overalls, the bird shirt, the Michael Jackson tee, dress shorts, boy shorts, red pants, glitter pants, polka dotted platforms, a Hawaiian-print halter top. I swear to you, these clothes looked cute in the dressing room – so cute I just had to have them. It wasn’t until I got home and tried to wear them for the first time that I realized I belonged under a circus tent.
Why does this happen? How can something look so fashionable in a dressing room and so ridiculous in the upstairs bedroom of a single family home? Who goes through my closet overnight and makes the oversized flannel too long and the polka dotted platforms too high and the red pants too bright and the boy shorts ride up?
I don’t know why Whim Buys tend to backfire so often. But a word for the girl wearing my sundress: I saw you at the mall today – you look like a clown.