I’ve become 1 of those women. Evidently, I now have a stylist.
My Guy and I attended a gala benefiting the local children’s hospital. It was a party! For the children! In a moment of generosity, I bid on 2 hours with a personal stylist. You know, to get the bidding started.
You know that chardonnay they serve at banquets? The free wine that after the first sip you think, “Oh, that’s not good?” But after the third glass, you think, “Damn, that’s a mighty fine wine?” Well, that same beverage helped me keep bidding on the services of the stylist even as the bids went up. After all, it was for the children!
So, I ended up winning 2 hours with a personal stylist. She can help me go through my closet or take me shopping.
|“OMG. Your hangers don’t even match?”|
Except now I’m somewhat paralyzed. What do I say to a stylist? Here are some options:
- “I would describe my personal style as ‘OK?'”
- “I work from home and don’t want to look like a frazzled mom because I don’t even have kids and actually have time to spend on my appearance even though I obviously don’t?”
- “I wear jeans and t-shirts and Banana Republic stopped making my go-to t-shirt so can you please just recommend a new t-shirt brand? Thanks.”
- “I used to be skinny and somewhat fashionable but now I’m 40 and I don’t care. Well, I care, but I don’t care? I just don’t want to look Amish? Does my hair make me look Amish?”
- “I look dorky but I’m actually really cool. Like, mega-cool. Just take my word for it. Please?”
- “I recently hurt my foot so all I can currently wear are sneakers, but that doesn’t mean I’m Generation: Easy Spirit. See also: I’m mega-cool. Just take my word for it?”
- “Please don’t make me shop at Forever 21.”
I’m torn between 2 options. The first is that the stylist and I will become fast friends, and she’ll introduce me to all her stylish friends as “My FAB friend Becky – you know, the one with all the great accessories who’s always so pulled together and such an inspiration to me both creatively and as a human being?” The second option is that the stylist will berate me for being so completely unfashionable and will then describe me to all her stylist friends as “That HORRIBLE woman with the jeans that were hand-me-downs in 2004 and who must appear homeless 97 percent of the time and who basically looks Amish except less stylish?”
These seem like the only 2 options.
The truth of it is that we all want to look our best. And we all need a fresh set of eyes every once in a while. But also … I feel like I’m dressing for a part that I haven’t yet defined.
I’m not a mom. I’m not a corporate denizen. I’m a writer, but not a sweaty, hardboiled journalist or a flowery romance novelist. I’m 40. I’m 40 and I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
There. I said it.