The walk-in closet was once my best friend. But like so many 20-something girlfriends find each other, it has become more of a frenemy. Its not size (I have resigned myself to the fact that the 0-petite pants won't fit comfortably again since nearly 9 pound Tucker made his debut, so I've purged and replaced them with the next size). Dry clean only seems impractical, 3 inch Prada pumps carry fear of falling with precious baby on hip, crisp white Thomas Pink shirt wrinkles under baby's weight on shoulder, black Theory pants collect lint from carpeting while sitting and playing on activity mat with aforementioned baby in the morning. What to do? After the 5 hours of sleep I managed the night before, patience are slightly short, and sounds from the nursery signal my time to decide on an outfit is near its end. The 80% closet purge I find necessary to go on is not in the cards this month, so I'm forced to work with what I have.
Grey merino boatneck with elbow sleeves and black sateen Ann Taylor pants it is. Jcrew statement necklace thrown in purse to be put on after daycare drop-off (ever seen a 5 month old baby and an expensive piece of not-so-expensively-made costume jewelry? Not good). Sounds getting louder, rushing required. Overly practical Enzo flats will have to do. 16 hours later I'll be home to change!