There should be a refund policy for wasting a good outfit on a bad night.
Not for the dinner. Not for the $19 cocktail that tasted vaguely like cucumber water and regret. For the outfit.
Because nothing is quite as insulting as looking incredible only to discover that the evening has absolutely no intention of matching your energy.
You know the night.
The hair did something it normally requires divine intervention to accomplish. The trousers made you reconsider every carb-related decision you'd made that week. The coat was giving mysterious person with somewhere better to be.
You looked expensive.
The plans were giving corporate happy hour.
And somewhere between the second mediocre drink and a conversation about somebody's mortgage rate, it became painfully obvious:
The outfit was better than the plans.
We Never Dress for What’s Actually Going to Happen
Nobody spends forty-five minutes getting ready because they're excited to stand beside a restaurant host stand while someone says, “I swear I made the reservation.”
We get dressed for the fictional version of the evening.
In that version, the table is perfect.
Nobody asks to split the check six different ways.
Nobody spends dinner explaining their current situationship in enough detail to qualify for continuing education credits.
And absolutely nobody says, “Should we just go somewhere else?”
We dress for candlelight and inappropriate decisions.
We get valet parking and lukewarm appetizers.
It's one of adulthood's crueler bait-and-switches.
The Outfit Is Basically Foreplay for the Evening
Getting ready might actually be the sexiest part of going out.
Before you leave, nothing has gone wrong yet.
The night still has potential.
Music is playing. You're pouring something while getting dressed. You've changed outfits three times and finally landed on the one that makes you stand differently.
Your phone lights up.
“On my way.”
Suddenly, you are not a person who spent most of the afternoon answering emails and wondering what to eat.
You have plans.
You have somewhere to be.
You have a jacket that suggests poor financial judgment but excellent taste.
For approximately twenty-seven minutes, your life has a plot.
Then you arrive and someone's boyfriend is wearing a quarter-zip.
Fantasy over.
Maybe We’re Saving Our Best Clothes for People Who Don’t Deserve Them
There is always something in the closet being held hostage by the idea of an occasion.
The dress that's “a little much.”
The boots that need somewhere worthy.
The coat you bought because it made you feel dangerous but apparently requires reservations.
The shirt that feels too good for a random Wednesday.
We're waiting for life to become glamorous enough to justify wearing the things that make us feel glamorous.
Which is ridiculous.
Have you seen life lately?
It's emails, errands, appointments, grocery stores and asking someone whether they remembered to move the laundry.
If we're waiting for an occasion worthy of the outfit, we may die with the tags still attached.
Wear it.
Being Overdressed Is Mostly a Problem for Other People
At some point, trying became embarrassing.
We're supposed to look good, obviously.
Just not like we wanted to look good.
The hair should be effortless. The outfit should be effortless. The apartment should look effortlessly collected. Dinner should appear casually thrown together despite requiring three grocery stores and a minor emotional breakdown.
God forbid anyone suspect we care.
Personally, I think we've taken this too far.
Sometimes I want the outfit to look like I tried.
Because I did.
I changed.
I steamed something.
I considered accessories.
I rejected one shoe because it didn't understand the assignment.
This was labor.
And I'm not pretending otherwise.
If everyone else decided tonight was a jeans-and-sneakers situation, that's between them and their God.
The Best Outfit Usually Happens on the Worst Night Anyway
It's almost scientific.
When you throw something on at the last minute, you'll somehow end up at the perfect restaurant, meet interesting people and stay out three hours later than expected.
When you painstakingly assemble an outfit worthy of being photographed getting out of a black car?
You'll be home by 9:46.
Maybe that's the joke.
We spend so much time waiting for our lives to become worthy of our best things.
The good bottle.
The expensive perfume.
The ridiculous shoes.
The restaurant we've been meaning to try.
The outfit that feels like too much.
But most of life isn't a special occasion.
Most of life is Tuesday.
And maybe Tuesday deserves the boots.
Wear It Anyway
The older I get, the less interested I am in saving things for a version of my life that apparently keeps rescheduling.
I don't need a better dinner reservation.
I don't need a birthday.
I don't need someone to tell me the dress code.
And I certainly don't need the evening to earn the outfit.
Because sometimes the restaurant is terrible.
Sometimes the conversation is worse.
Sometimes the person across from you spends twenty minutes talking about crypto.
Sometimes everyone decides they're tired at 8:30.
Sometimes the night is an absolute waste of eyeliner.
But you still looked incredible.
And maybe that's enough.
The plans were disappointing.
The drink was overpriced.
The conversation should have been an email.
But the outfit?
The outfit had a fucking fantastic night.
0 comments