This childhood stigma has followed me well into my adult years. Even if I had an extensive wardrobe, I’m not mentally or physically capable of knowing what to do with it. My youngest sister, The Last Pancake, even gave me some of her “gently used” workout wear in a food drive paper bag. Goodwill rejects most of my donations.
That being said, one can only imagine the horror that comes over me when I am required to “dress up” for an event. I’ve managed to avoid many social events over the years due to “child care issues”. I have a pair of black polyester blend pants that I dust off for every token interview, wedding, funeral or Christmas party. I refer to them as ol’ Blackie. Pick up a new holiday sweater or throw on a shirt that doesn’t show my back fat, pair it with ol’ Blackie and you have one heck of an outfit.
My fashion-challenged gene has also creeped over into the lack of interior design in my home which is why I generally avoid hosting parties. Our trendy furniture that we purchased ten years ago looks like it has been in a war zone – splattered with kid stains and holes compliments of a very hungry Golden Retriever (who also tries to eat all the guests, yet another reason I don’t like to host parties).
I have a friend who politely tries to loan me house plants and wall hangings to warm the place up. My Easy Bake oven, circa 1989 has 20 years of baked on soot that totally stinks up the house when in use. It’s always appetizing for guests to arrive with the scent of burned frozen pizza cheese wafting through the air. Of course, I only have Christmas scented candles to counter the odor – a la chestnuts burning on an open fire. Let’s just say, my house is a work in progress.
Last night, The Last Pancake and I co-hosted a Stella & Dot jewelry party thrown in honor of Fashion’s Night Out (FNO). Apparently, FNO is the new kick-off event for New York’s Fashion Week to inspire all fashionistas to get their glam on and do some mega designer shopping. I was completely frightened when I saw the words, “an excuse to get your glam on” on the invitation, but the lure of free party host bobbles soon overshadowed my fears. And, ol’ Blackie could use some shiny new accessories with the holiday season just around the corner.
Luckily, my sister took charge of the party organization. She’s been over to my house for several family events so she knows there is a serious lack of fun napkins, non-existant wine selection and no abundance of diet soda. After seeing her hip party outfit, I was even inspired to change out of my mom duds. Like many moms, my current weight dictates my clothing selection. After eating enough samples of my bite-size hors’ d oeuvres to equal full-sized portions, I chose a roomy pair of white jeans. Yes, I wore white after Labor Day. Big ass trumps fashion guidelines. And yes, I cooked macaroni and cheese along with cobbler in honor of fashion week. Let’s have a shout-out to all those plus-sized models – hell ya!
As guests began arriving to a silent house, my sister said, “Hey, do you have any tunes?” Yes, we have dozens of CD’s. The only problem is we haven’t bought any non-kid music in the 21st century. As I pushed the “play” button, the guitar rift from Dan Zane’s “All Around The Kitchen” song comes blaring through our huge late 80’s fashioned speakers. My sister came running over as I was rifling through CD cases in an attempt to find some relatively current music. The winners were the soundtrack from Top Gun and the CD from my brother’s wedding that featured Elvis Christmas music. I would have docked my iPod but my daughter hijacked it and filled it with SpongeBob and Lemonade Mouth. My sister didn’t believe me, but the Lemonade Mouth soundtrack beats Top Gun any day. Can I get a hell-ya for Lemonade Mouth?!
Long story short, we all had enough wine and Kinky cocktails to ignore the out-of-date music and do some major jewelry shopping. I even got approval on wearing white pants after Labor Day from the crowd. And the true fashionista in attendance, threw her five-inch heels in the corner as she munched on cobbler bites and mac n’ cheese while screaming, “Hey Maverick (from Top Gun), nice tunes!.”