You Can Dress Her Up. . . .

So yesterday was the biggest work-related holiday party of the season. It is swanky, shi-shi and any other number of fancy words. It took me three years to get an invitation and they are non-transferable.

That morning I put on a black velvet wrap around shirt and a plain black skirt. I looked good, the shirt was tight fitting but showed off my chest to its best advantage and gave me a waist without showing rolls of fat but I was feeling slightly off since my dress mary janes (my only option for comfortable yet dressy shoes) were missing a button and there was a run high up on my nylons (the only pair I had that were clean). As she was locking the door my roommate looked at me and said, your skirt is filthy. I said "WHAT?!" as I had no other dress options at that point and looked down where my black skirt was covered in white. I said it's just lint, I'll take care of it at work.

When I got to work I realized it wasn't just lint, it was actually detergent. I panicked. Luckily one of the other librarians was a sucker for House of Style and told me if I rubbed the fabric together where it was white it would disappear -- it works for deoderant stains too-- it worked like a charm and I was a very happy if slightly crazy looking woman (I did some of the rubbing at my desk).

During the course of the day there were a series of more panicky moments when I would open a book and suddenly be covered in white again and other such incidents, it all worked out though. By 5:00 I was ready to shine.

We walked through the common and the beautifully lit garden to the Ritz. I was feeling totally fancy and ready to embrace a new life as one of the it people. I should be a lady who lunches! I should be a woman of leisure, I have the grace and skills. . . .

We entered the Ritz welcomed by the warmth of heat lamps and the glitter of lights and fancy glass display cases. Walking up the marble staircase I breathed a sigh of contentment. One of the women in the front pointed us in the correct direction for our party and I turned and walked directly into a chair which was near a glass display case and crashed noisily (luckily breaking nothing). I felt like a bull in a china shop.

We walked upstairs as one of my co-workers made fun of my need for attention (see the post about my Thanksgiving break so you understand her feelings). I made it through the rest of the party without mishap though, unless you count when we were leaving and I walked in on a woman in the restroom (but don't you think that's her fault for not locking the door?!). . . .