The Wardrobe Project

Destined for the Dressing Room Floor

Every woman has done it. We have gone to the clothing racks and picked out one stunning outfit after another, cute jeans, fabulous colors, and have wound up with a pile of rejects in the dressing room. Not only did the clothes not look good, but after that experience we didn't feel too good either.

Most women and girls suffer from poor body image.

Most women suffer from poor body image. Most girls suffer from it too. We look at magazines and the latest fashions and then find that we don't look good with the clothes we pick out under their influence. Somehow we can't figure out that the problem isn't our figures, it's what we're putting on our them that are making us look less than beautiful.

Ask most men and they will tell you, every woman is something pretty special. We are awesome. What we've got to figure out is our own brand of awesome. So let us now and nevermore address the whole anti-style (and anti-woman, frankly) push in some Christian circles with the idea that God, Himself, loves beauty. All of creation is exploding with it, down to the farthest galaxy in the remotest expanse of the Universe. Creation is, in fact, the raiment for the pinnacle of His creation (a woman, incidentally, if you look at the ascending order of creation in Genesis, from inanimate to higher and higher classes of animate) and the natural world was made not only to function, but to glorify the glorious. God loves you, Woman. Just ask Him if you don't believe me!

God loves beauty and He made you beautifully!

That's settled, then. God has created you, a gift to the world. God has given you a shape to attract the notice of your spouse and to potentially bear and nurse children. Not all women become mothers, but we have the same basic girly equipment. The equipment, however, comes in an endless variety of options--bigger, smaller, taller, squatter--that all follow certain themes. Clothing has the same endless variety of options and clothing also follows certain themes. This is neither a mistake or a coincidence. Some clothing will look good on some shapes and look ghastly on others. They are designed that way. Go figure! Clothes designed for one shape will flatter that shape and will look less than flattering on another shape.

So, ladies, the trick is to figure out what will look fabulous on your figure--then stick with those options in their endless varieties. I can't wear a standard T-shirt without appearing to gain 20 pounds, so I don't wear them. Period. I don't give it a moment's thought until there is a fundraiser with Ts at church or I spy a really neat slogan I'd love to sport around town, but then I remember my shape and realize that if the lettering is across the chest, no one is going to be reading it anyway. I'll buy it for my husband or a more T-shirt friendly friend, but I do myself a favor and save the money.

I'd like to save you some money and save you some time and distress in the clothing store, too. I want you to figure out your figure and then dress it beautifully on a budget. So, I've enlisted the help of some young ladies, gave them a budget, and some pointers, and will be sharing those pointers, the hunt, and the results with you.

Today was shopping day and we had some great finds. The outfits are pretty, modest, and stylish. The four girls came in under budget overall, with one going over due to a splurge on a jacket. We shopped at The Children's Exchange in Amarillo--a clothing consignment store for used clothing. It's possible to dress well without breaking your heart or your bank. We'll show you how.
 
We're calling it the Wardrobe Project. You'll be hearing and seeing more soon.

Four themes for infinite variation!

The Wardrobe Project: Posts Coming Soon...

1. Know Your Shape
2. Shop Your Shape
3. Dress(ing room) Rehearsals

Something for Saturday

This is for my mother, who would rather send an armadillo to the store than my father. It is also for all my friends who are not from the South, so you can understand why, exactly, we hang our heads.

Thank you, Paula, for finding this.

Excuse of the Week...

It's award season, and though I've been nominated for a blog award, I'm certainly not winning any Housewife and Mom of the Week awards this week.<----shameless plug

Proof I am not worthy...

I finally got the week's shopping done. On Friday. It took a babysitter to get it done, too. Not one of my better weeks. The three main reasons for the major glitch were a car antenna and potty training two kids.

The car antenna
The antenna is one of those items that I just had to "come take a look at." By a quirk of merchandising, there is no Merck manual for the sales fella to consult and tell me over the phone if he has it in stock or not. By a quirk of physics, when I actually got to the parts store (between errands and in the timeslot I usually allot for buying fresh fruits and vegetables), the odds that he'd actually have the part I needed plummeted.

Proof positive that I am a chronic multitasker:

• 1 When the antennas in stock inevitably do not match my car, 2 I smile politely instead of informing the salesclerk that he could have googled my car as easily as he walked out to look at it.
•  1 I mentally review the gas and time I've wasted 2 as I thank him for his time. 
• 1 On my way back to my car to pick up my son 2 I try hard not to grumble that my time for this errand has expired in a fruitless venture. 
• 1 As I back out of the parking space, 2 I mentally rearrange my schedule to allot time to hit another car parts store and 3 further push back the purchase of veggies (which I'm fairly certain will be in stock and will fit my menu),  4 all the while reminding myself that car part and hardware shopping are the recreational shopping of the testosterone set.

The inefficiencies built into the system of car parts and hardware purchases are analogous to the female hunt for the perfect pair of jeans. The process could take weeks.

Potty training kids
Editorial disclaimer: For those with little imagination, certain physical inevitabilities will be obliquely referenced in deference for those with good imaginations, bitter experience, and weak stomachs.

One of the items on the shopping list that actually got purchased in a mad dash to a pet store was enzymatic carpet cleaner. I made a special trip. The laundry workload has quadrupled and the wardrobe malfunctions at the Martin house have taken on catastrophic dimensions.

Speaking of catastrophes, the Martin Family method of leaving the house and getting into the car has become more colorful in every sense. To sum up the week, although we ran out of meat, onions and celery, the kids picked up some new vocabulary! My mom will be so proud!

Can we say "$&*%!!!" kids? 

I knew you could.

Busy enough for ya?

I forget how to add. Like 2 + 2 = 4 is obvious, so should be a more algebraic but equally basic equation like Valentine's Day + Sunday = Crowded Mall.

We decided after the Jell-O and candy at Nana's to celebrate the day with our sugar-sweetened children by going to the $2 discounted theatre at the mall. "We" being half the town.

In our wisdom to forget about people behaving just like us, it also never occurred to us to allow time for a line, so we were forced to take the only row that had 7 empty and consecutive seats--the front row.

Now would be a good time to explain some things about the experience of Autism: big, huge, loud, flashy and colorful experiences are better in smaller, more distant and constrained conditions like between two parents near the back with the entire comforting mass of family between the experience and the exit. Being able to get up and walk into the open space in front of the first row makes everything less tolerable. You have options. Options are not good.

On the other hand bailing on a movie, getting vouchers to return another day and indoor playgrounds on a blustery winter day are good. Getting to it in a crowded mall? Not so very good.

My kids are 6, 4, 4, 2, and 1. There are 1 more of them than there are available adult hands. They dawdle. They look at things. They have short legs. They exist when other people are existing. These things about children in large groups make some adults in small groups grumpy. Adults grumpy about children being children tickles my sense of the absurd and I laugh. I also connect seemingly unrelated dots, like certain unfortunate winter clothing choices and frozen bakery items. Dot connecting makes my husband laugh.

So, here we were, traipsing around with children and laughing because we were actually having a good time. Some other people were also having a good time. They exchanged pleasantries in that Mallish way of milling about and making eye contact and saying something nice just loud enough to be overheard. "Cute kids." "Look at that hair." "Aw!" We had our share of nice things to say about some little girls in very princessy looking dresses as well as a few wind and weather remarks made to allow for a bit of idle conversation among strangers.

Sadly, though, amongst the crowd of us there were people there not to have a good time at all. They exchanged grumpiness in that Mallish way of not making eye contact and brushing past in a way that screams, "I'm busy here!" in a flustered and important way.

I never realized road rage was possible without a road.

I've been that busy. I can't even stand myself when I'm that busy. I hate it. I'd especially hate being busy on a Sunday in February when me and everyone else decides to do the same thing at the same time and we're all kinda stuck with each other doing it. I'd much prefer having nothing much better to do than enjoy some time with my family--my small one and my very big one--all the whole lot of us.

Even in a Mall.