Dana lives in Seattle, and Tracie lives in Germany. We are businesswomen, writers and humorists. We write about life, dating, and today's modern women.
Standing in the dressing room of a high-end exclusive retailer, I marveled at how outstanding the designer pants looked on me. Everything was OUTSTANDING including the price tag. These were the type of pants I like to call Mortgage Payment Alternative Attire. In other words either the house payment or the pants would have to be sacrificed. I stood foaming at the mouth,staring at myself in the mirrortrying to justify why I NEEDED to have these pants.
The fit was phenomenal. I didn’t even need tosqueeze my menopausebarbeejunk in the trunkinto spanx, (modern day girdle) they were tailor made for me!
Yes, they would be a perfect addition to my wardrobe.
Yes,I could pair them with my turtle neck in the winterall the way to a funky tank in the summer.
Yes,I could dress these pants up with heels for cocktail parties, boots for a sassy on the go look, or with a strappy sandal for an evening dinner.
There were endless places these pants and I would, should and could venture…
My love for designer clothes was not my fault. I had inherited these genes along with my Dolce jeans literally from my mother who wore Manolo’s long before Sarah Jessica Parker paraded them on Sex in the City.
Mom always taught me it was the quality that mattered, not the quantity. It was better to have
one great piece rather than a multitude of cheapitems that would unravel in one wash. Mom was a fashion model and had graced the runway for all the major department stores. As a child, I loved to watch mama hit the high fashion stage. We were as excited as a child on Christmas when fashion week approached. We became familiar with the brands and designers as if they were close friends. Oh that’s a Pucci, Gucci, Dolce and Gabbana. Mama’s love for fashion was genuine, authentic and well, she just gets how to put the stuff together and make it work. But, Mama was a savy shopper as well and over the years, she has even become appauled at the escalating multi digit prices.
I sighed, and looked at the price tag again.But then, my dad’s voice came ringing in my head and reason returned.
I slowly took the pants off, and smiled as I politely returned them to the sales lady.
“Will that be all?” She smiled heading for the register.
The morning news stated that a second recession was looming and my father’s voice
came into my head and out of my mouth, “Thanks, but I’m not getting them.
Just because it’s on your ass, doens’t make it an asset.
“Our Mama the Original Menopausebarbee circa 1975