In the Miracle Mile Ann Taylor (where everything seems affordable due to its placement adjacent to Prada, Escada, and St. John) I honed in on a light grey sweater fitting all criteria- loose cut, kimono sleeve, mid-hip length. My spirits soared when I saw a small white sign announcing 40% off of the $168 price tag. I snatched it off the rack before any of those milling around me could get a hand near it. Too excited to bother with the fitting room (and rushing to get home before Tucker was due to have some organic sweet potato puree-made from scratch!) I headed straight for the register.
Since my work is technically closed for the next 2 weeks (though my particular office remains open) I can dress more casual chic than business casual. Finding this the perfect chance to don my new sweater, I happily thew it over my head this morning. Fixing my hair in the mirror I was horrified at what I saw. More akin to bag lady or potato sack than chic poncho, the sweater swallowed me and spit me out. I adjusted the shoulders, added a scarf, tried a belt, nothing helped. I thought I was being too critical- it looked so great in the magazines. I must give it a try. Off to the kitchen to prepare Tucker's breakfast. The large sleeve knocked over a filled bottled and then dragged the liquid across the counter. Tucker won't fit on my hip, which has been replaced by an expanse of wool. My coat won't fit over the chic dolman sleeve, and its too cold to go without. In my haste to tidy up, I threw out the bag and the receipt, and already clipped the tag so I am stuck with the amorphous rag. Anybody interested in a post-holiday bad decision swap?