September 27, 2002
Couturette's Syndrome

I tried on an Armani skirt a few nights ago, and I spent a long time staring at it in the mirror, stuck in the zone between wanting something and deciding to buy it.

The arguments for were obvious: this was an incredibly beautiful skirt. I couldn’t get over how well it was made, and it fit like it was supposed to be mine - trim along the hips then falling just below the knee in that sexy/conservative way that says, "Oh yes, I look hot in this, but please have the good taste not to mention it." It was light wool, in gray, such a gray that calling it interesting wouldn’t be an oxymoron. And the drape...have I mentioned the drape? You wouldn't believe the drape.

Also in its favor was the 75% off tag. I have never been in the company of couture without a sale tag to chaperone. We just can't be trusted together.

Some of the arguments against were also obvious: the 75% was off $400, and while that’s quite a bargain, "I saved $300 on an Armani skirt!" is not the kind of saving I’ve resolved to do.

But in the end more subtle factors made me put it back.

I’d originally come to the store to replace my trusty but now overworn black pumps. I’d already picked out a pair - nothing extravagant, but not cheap, either. I’d slipped them on with the skirt to get a better idea of how it would look in the field. What I didn’t notice at first, but which once noticed became impossible to un-notice, was that next to this stunningly beautiful skirt, the shoes - shoes which would be fine in any other context - looked painfully, well, inferior.

And then I had a vision of what life would be like with this skirt. I’d have to go right back upstairs and find more worthy - and certainly more expensive - shoes. And how could I be sure that any of my current blouses or sweaters would do? Buying this skirt was likely to kick off an unstoppable cascade of wardrobe upgrades, my taste outpacing my income at every turn, until, Emma Bovary-like, I was forced to end it all, killed by exhausted credit.

The dry cleaning bills alone could have been fatal.