Fancy’s done pretending she’s humble. Thanks for that. Whew.
“Okay, so all that Fancy Clothing on its way to the charity shop, why isn’t it on its way over to me?” asked my pal. She’s one of the 4 Fancy Secret Holders to my identity and the one who got me blogging in the first place. Lucky duck.
“Well, first thing, greedy lady, is that you are 5 inches shorter than me. Which means my skinny clothes would be swimming on you. Plus, wouldn’t that be slightly obnoxious, offering you my rejects?”
This is the part of the Fancy Clean Out that I find awkward. There are literally bags of shoes and clothing heading out the door and onto the backs of some less fortunate. I like that another person will get to benefit from my wardrobe turn around but on the other hand, that is a huge pile of money I’m literally throwing out the door. Wouldn’t it be better to give them to people I know?
But that idea brings its own problems. What do I say? “Oh, here I thought you might like this dress. It might look really good on you. It’s only me that looks like a Tijuana hooker in it.”
Or maybe: “I brought you some beautiful designer trousers. I bet they’ll fit perfectly. Because they are way too big for me.”
And there’s always: “Big bag of expensive clothes here for you. Slightly out of fashion right now but I’m sure they’ll come back in. I just don’t really have the room to hang onto them, what with all my uber-stylish stuff I just bought. Oh yeah, that’s still hip, but ruffles make me look a little whorish. But you can totally pull it off.”
Fancy here just feels funny about it.
But then Nanny #1 saw the pile. “Hey,” she asked, “what can I give you for that sequined vest?”
“Take it!” I exclaimed. “Take anything! You can have it all. I just felt weird offering you my castoffs. But it’s yours. Don’t give me a thing. Just give it a good home.”
“Gosh, thanks!” she replied looking around the room. “But I’ll just take the vest. I really don’t need anything else.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, realizing that Nanny #1’s good fashion sense is the reason I let her dress the Minis in the morning. (Seriously, we had one Nanny who would put them in the most bizarre combos. H walked in one day and said, “Why is the Princess dressed liked your sister?” Snort.)
“But wait, this here, this shirt is one of my favorites. It’s Boss and I love it to death. The only reason I’m giving it away is because of Nanny #2’s uncontrollable need to wash fine clothing. It shrunk. But you’re so tiny, maybe you’d like to try it?”
“Ah, yes, that I’ll take. Thanks!”
Oh by the way, since the theme here is clothing, why don’t we finish off with a Frock It? Here you go. What not to wear to a wedding. What the fuck were the groomsmen wearing? Can you find a tux that would fit a sheep?