Shopping Theory

I've been on a shopping kick this week. It's a rare thing. Normally I hate shopping. I have no stamina for it. When I was fifteen and looking for a white dress for my confirmation, my dad took me to the mall. He kept asking if I wanted to keep looking, if I wanted to visit more stores, because he didn't mind. Meanwhile, I was dragging my feet and feeling like my brain was starting to ooze out my ear.

So I'm trying to take advantage of this burst of motivation. I'm having to fight my natural frugality to do it. So far, so good.

There's more to fight than frugality, though. Trying clothes on, and especially trying pants on, is a frustrating experience. In recent years, I've come to the conclusion that this has little to do with size and much to do with shape and proportion. And because each woman is shaped differently, the vast majority of items are not going to fit her, no matter how shapely or straight or voluptuous or thin she is.

It's like a job search, where the looking and waiting can leave you discouraged and feeling like everything in the world is wrong with you. After a dozen pairs of slacks that make me look lumpy, I can be tempted to make two dozen resolutions to eat more fruit and get to the gym more often. Then I'll find that one pair that looks great on me and I'll wonder what on earth was wrong with all those other pairs of pants. That's the goal: to find the pair that makes the other pants look wrong, rather than making me look wrong.

I write all this because I sometimes have other women say to me, "You're so thin, you can wear anything." This is completely untrue, and that's not false modesty or that self-deprecation most women are guilty of when it comes to their appearance. I look terrible in plenty of things. I just don't buy those things, so you don't see me in them. (Well, sometimes I buy stuff that doesn't look so hot on me, because it's cheap and I figure I'll just deal with it, but I'm trying to break myself of that habit.) I'd like to take women who are down on themselves on a shopping trip with me, so they can see me try on all kinds of awful looks and feel better about themselves.

It's all about finding what works for you, and it's going to be different for everybody. For example, low-rise pants were a Godsend I did not expect. I lean toward the modest side with clothing, so I avoided this style at first. But when I tried some on accidentally, I realized that they were just what I needed. There's a huge difference between my waist and my hips, and it's next-to-impossible to find something that will fit both. With low-rise pants, I don't have that problem! Hurrah! I've also discovered that stretchy items, rather than being awkwardly tight, can be quite comfortable.

This weekend, I head out again in my quest for corduroys or something equivalently casual. I've made several trips and come back with nothing (although sometimes I come back with something I didn't plan for, like last Sunday's hat and debit-card theft). But eventually I'll find the pair for me, and I'll look great, probably in a different pair than the one that will make you look great. And that's OK, because there's one for each of us.