I need a personal shopper

Joss Stone’s voice makes me feel sexy, how the hell does she do that?

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Yesterday after work Danielle timidly asked me what my route home was. In true lawyerly fashion, I turned it on her and asked her how she would have me drive home. Turns out our cute little pedestrian was angling for a ride to the mall to shop for an outfit to wear to her engineer boyfriend’s ring presentation on Friday.

As she bounced into the mall like a lamb to the slaughter and I merged back into traffic, I figured I would make like a lemming and see if I could find a pair of spring pants that didn’t make me want to cry when I looked in the mirror. I headed over to M@rk’s W0rk Wearhouse where I proceeded to find one pair of pants in the casual, cotton vein in a colour I enjoyed. On the way to the fitting room I stopped to admire the sale rack of fleece vests in the colours of sage and burnt copper. The tag bummed me out: Men’s/Hommes. That means the fit will suck and the bottom of the vest will cover my ass even if it’s an XS, which isn’t happening anyway. Le sigh.

Have you ever begun to undress in a fitting room that has the mirrored wall on a side that could conceivably really be a two-way mirror into some sort of security office? Anyone?

No go on the pants. The rest of the women’s side of the store featured the suckiest spring colours a girl could ask for: I think the marketing twats were out one warm evening in L.A., eating granitas from some shi-shi place on Melrose when they decided they were going to force everyone to wear the colours they were eating. I suspect it was a drunken joke that went horribly wrong the next morning when Ted, probably still a little hungover, presented the damn idea to his superiors. “It’s just crazy enough to work!”, they chuckled, so very pleased with their new idea. (Ted was later beaten to a bloody pulp out back by a dumpster).

On the way to the door, having lost over an hour of my life and with my self-esteem in tatters, I spied it. A bag. The bag. My Spring 2006 bag. And what’s that? It’s on sale? Score!

So, at least I left the store with something that fit.

Posted at 3:10 p.m.