You know you’ve grown up a little bit when you can look back on your previous self and make that sound my Mom makes when they won’t apply a coupon to sale merchandise – total disgust.
Around 8:30pm I reflected on my 3:45pm self and made that exact sound.
Michael and I had spent the day engaged in one of our favorite Manhattan activities: walk around the city and try to find things you’ve never seen before (working title). This time we found an 18th century Chinese village and the NYC jail – a series of building that look like Soviet Russia. It was a striking juxtaposition.

Now in general I can resist a dress, but with this dress I also found a man – Jeremy – designer Billy Reid’s partner. Michael and I remain unclear on the meaning of partner in this context. He referenced building a lot of things (straight) but also styling a lot of things (gay), offered us an alcoholic drink (just plain smart) and touched my butt a few times as I was trying on the dresses (welcome, but confusing). Either way it didn’t matter. He loved the dress and I loved him. Sold.
At $295 it was well beyond my price range (which for reference is free – $39.99). The only things I’ve purchased near that amount in recent history are a plane ticket to LA and three months of backed-up electric bills.
No matter. Jeremy was having it shipped from Florence, Alabama where it is hand made in my smaller size. I’d just go on the Special K diet (just two bowls a day and a healthy third meal!) until the dress arrived jointly saving money and maintaining my smaller size.
The list of places I would wear this new dress were endless – on a date with a Lower East Side muscian, to an art gallery crawl in Williamsburg, to a party in a West Village townhouse thrown by the editor of nymag.com. I would need brown, lace-up boots and chestnut highlights, but it would be spectacular.
I was planning all such occasions later that evening during the previews for Rachel Got Married (didn’t love it, but Debra Winger is great). I don’t know how or why it happened, but I envisioned going to pick the dress up and paying for it with my credit card when that total disgust sound came out of my mouth.
You have zero need for that dress – my sound mind said. You can’t afford it. Also you never met anyone who lives on the LES, don’t know where Williamsburg is, and in no way belong at the editors party. Grow up.
And with that, the shoulder-perched angel got one victory over the better-dressed but totally broke devil, and I grew up a little
I’ll probably go back for one last look at my almost mistake. Might even try it on again while enjoying a little bourbon and a lot of Jeremy, but I will not buy. I grew up from turning back from previously sworn against mistakes on a Friday afternoon in 2004…
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