Fall Fashion Conundrum

Ugh, Mail.

Typically, I enjoy getting mail. I even welcome the familiar stack of "pre-approved" credit card applications that make the bi-weekly journey from my doorstep directly to my trash can. But some days, the awaiting delivery turns out to be my complete undoing, almost as if the mailbox had transformed into Pandora's Box while I was slaving away at a hospital night shift.

And why the sour attitude? Well, every once in awhile, a fashion brochure (how the hell do they find me?) will turn in up the mail, and it's usually not all that threatening. Granted, the floral day dress on the cover of the spring issue will absolutely not go unnoticed (and will probably end up in my closet), but summer catalogs with "perfect" women in their "perfect" bikini bodies on "perfect" yachts rarely tempt me into digging out my credit card. Typically, I throw them out after nothing more than the casual flip through.

Until the fall issue, that is. The fall issue, without proper warning and preparation, can be devastating on my budget.

Fact: I'm a huge sucker for fall clothing. The coats, the boots, the hats, the sweaters...it's all gold. I love the coziness, easy sophistication and simple stylishness of it all. Each article of clothing is meant to wrap you not only in a plush, soft fabric, but also in a feeling of confidence and stylishness. Suddenly, it becomes chic to cover up. The skin-showing overload of summer gives way to the tasteful body-conscious silhouettes of fall. I'm already on the prowl for a long sleeved minidress...

And those damn coats and scarves hanging in store windows...brutal. It's safe to say I'm a ridiculous fan; scarves are indeed my kryptonite, and as such, they belong in my closet, adding to my already substantial collection. I've also been craving a red peacoat since I was old enough to figure out what they were. It's always been a fantasy of mine to be the lone lady in red, walking down a silent street of white. I've had my eye on this one (pictured left) for the last two years.

Not so fast sweaters, you're not off the hook either. Sweaters shout at me from holiday magazine covers, and I feel I absolutely must have one for the upcoming snowed-in nights I'll be spending curled up by the fireplace, on a fur rug, drinking a glass of wine and eating chocolate truffles. See the crazy vignettes my brain creates to justify my purchases? We don't even own a fireplace. Or a fur rug.

And boots...oh don't get me started on boots. In my mind the only reason a leaf would fall from a tree is so it could be stepped on by a fashionable knee high boot. Right now I'm obsessed with anything that's worn and weathered. I don't want a new pair like the ones in the magazines (who am I kidding, I'd never turn them down), but I'm craving something that has a story behind it. A pair that looks as though they were formerly worn by a sheepherder in northern Ireland. Preferably with a heel so I can feel appropriately matched with my 6'5" boyfriend, but I'm not too picky. Oh and straps and buckles, lots and lots of straps and buckles, regardless of their uselessness in the real world.

So while this may be my favorite time of year, it's also my most difficult. We've already canceled the cable and I've gotten a second job, so I'm not about to do something stupid like buy a pair of boots.

God I love a good pair of boots...maybe just one pair...I've been so good...

Focus. I need to get through this. Sorry awesome fall coats, boots, hats, sweaters and scarves, but you're just going to have to wait until next year when I can buy you in a thrift store for 1/10 the price. Of course, I do have a closet swap party coming up on October 14, so lets just focus on that.

So tell me, what do you like about the fall?

Lesson 9: Go Easy On Yourself

The other day I had the itch to do a some serious shopping. And I mean the kind where you clean out your wallet in a whirlwind frenzy, then spend the rest of the afternoon trying to think of some excuse that would justify you wearing all of your purchases at once. I needed to binge, and my mind was racing with every article of clothing I had to have, scratch that, needed to have in my new fantastic wardrobe I've been working on since I lost 6 pounds. I'm not going to lie, I was probably foaming at the mouth a little bit.

Folks, I was prepared to do some damage.

So I took off, alone and slightly crazed, fully expecting to receive a thank-you note in the mail sometime next week for substantially boosting the local economy of Billings, Montana. I walked in and out of vintage shops, shoe stores and specialty depots. I found summer dresses on sale, ballet flats half off, and an entire bin of old scarves. I tracked down vinyl records, picture frames and wall art all in the "not that bad" price-range. There was even a stray puppy who clearly needed to come home with me. Well he was attached to a leash, and someone was holding it but...all minor - and irrelevant - details.

Basically, I found a goldmine, but at each stop that little downer of a voice inside of my head clicked on, reminding me of the ticket to Italy (or wherever the poll on the right sends me) I'm saving to buy. I returned home having not purchased a single item, but as soon as I sat down in the comfiest chair in the house a familiar feeling crept over me, rushing over me from head to toe:

Guilt.

The guilt you feel when you purchase something you can't afford. Now being the struggling grad student I am, a 'purchase I can't afford' can be loosely defined as anything costing the equivalent of a bagel, but in this case my guilt was completely unwarranted.

I hadn't bought anything.

Oh, come on! What, now I'm feeling guilty for looking at stuff? For walking around and staring in windows? For trying on shoes? Bullsh*t. First of all, it was looking at me, and second... what the hell?

When I was little I remember my mom examining some sort of cooking equipment. "Buy it!" I shouted, my little 6-year old self just excited to see the magic that happens when you hand someone green paper and they hand you a coveted object. "No, " my mom said. "Don't you want it?" I asked. "Yes, " she replied wistfully, "but I don't need it."

I have become my mother. I not only tell myself I don't need something, but I also punish myself for ever wanting it in the first place. Now, just the act of wanting something is reason enough to trigger the wash of guilt that would typically come with an "undeserved" purchase.

I refuse to live the rest of my life this way. With everyone else out there probably judging me at one time or another, shouldn't I be batting for my own team? I think I'm a rational person, and I feel if I want something I should be able to think through the pros and cons of purchasing it and then make an educated decision. More importantly though, I need to remind myself that it's okay to want something, regardless of how expensive. I need to be able to tell that little voice inside my head to just screw off once in awhile.

"Yes, condescending little voice, I want a jet ski. Always have, always will. They're effin' fun. Get over it."

I'm not going to go out and buy a jet ski right now or anything, but someday when I do I want to feel excited about it, not guilty.

As a matter of fact, I think I do want to buy those little ballet flats I saw. They were only $2.48, is that so bad?

Oh sorry, I forgot: I don't give a damn.