The March Hare

Today I purchased my twenty-fifth fancy skirt, my eleventh fancy dress, and my fourth pair of pants. That's right; fourth.

What is it about buying things that changes the whole day? First, the excitement of going to the store and planning to spend money. Then, picking out everything that you could possibly, maybe, want or need and piling it into your arms as you head into the poorly-lit and slightly stinky dressing room. This is the worst part, and not just because of the smell; you'll have to weed items out because they don't look good on you specifically, when you know that someone else would look great in them. And no cheating! It's not going to look any better at home, bad lighting or no!

Worry sets in. You go through each item, figuring sales price, tax, and total over and over again, until finally you give in and say, 'Oh, what the hell. I can afford to treat myself just this once." So a non-sales item joins the select group of your new posessions.

Checkout is joyful; you've just liberated your wallet of its great burden, and the glow of having bought something, having been a consumer with all of the power that it implies is upon you.

You leave the store feeling giddy. Maybe you shouldn't have done it, but you did it anyway, and God, it feels so good. New stuff! Better, new stuff to make you look pretty, like the princess you've always known you were. Those twenty-four other fancy skirts were toying with you. They didn't live up to their promise to make you a different person when you put them on. But this one, twenty-five... well, you just know that it's the one that will make all the difference.

Go home and try on all of your new things again, this time with a variety of underwear so that you can find the best combination. Turn around for your dog and ask her if she likes it. She will probably yawn, but don't read too much into that. She's just a dog.

Now comes the best part; introducing your new clothes to your old ones. "Summer dirndls with interesting patters, meet your new neighbor, champagne silk with matching tulle overlay. Move over there, pleated plaid. Pants, meet my new favorites. I'm sorry, but you just don't make me look as good as these." Of course, trying to find an empty hanger is fraught, because this is your TWENTY-FOURTH SKIRT and all, but you'll manage to dig a few out of the back in the end.

Now, unfortunately, you have to go back to your old clothes, the ones you wore to the store, and therefore to your old self. But soft, fear not; you'll surely be invited to enough high-class social events soon to wear all of your wonderful new clothes.