Someday I will be able to say “I met a nice, sweet boy at the grocery store” without having to finish the sentence “he loves my necklace and he wants to redo my lashes in mink.” but yesterday was not that day.
To be fair I’m still of the old school where a lady doesn’t go out in public without looking presentable. There are, of course, rare exceptions: It is acceptable to leave the house in an Unseemly State if you are still incredibly hungover from the church choir party and you have to sneak out of someone’s apartment –leaving an elegantly written note on a napkin dated “3rd Saturday of Advent”– and meet up with an equally pious and hungover friend to eat cheese grits and discuss What This All Means, BUT you have to make a big fuss about how you “won’t be looked at in this merciless glare” and refuse to have thirds of the sweet potato rolls because you’re just feeling too delicate.
It’s perfectly okay to do this once or twice a year- it builds character and gives the old ladies something to gossip about now that no one cares if the new vicar is gay– but generally speaking, I believe in being well-appointed for any and all public appearances.
This includes the grocery store.
See, once upon a time when I first started becoming the Z-list Austin celebrity I am, I went the the grocery store to buy the following items:
1 bottle of cheap champagne (for failed sorbet experiment)
1 tube Preparation H (for eye-wrinkle experiment)
a cling-wrapped English cucumber (for my gin-based drinks.)
an enormous box of Ultra Super Industrial Grade Tampons (for the women’s shelter where I volunteer)
1 York Peppermint Pattie (for eating because they are teh nom)
and INSTANTLY was recognized by ZOMG!!1! LIKE MY BIGGEST FAN EVAR. This would have been bad enough, but I was wearing an old Harvard t-shirt with a stain on it (I don’t normally support Yankee propaganda, but my people are Harvard on my mother’s side and it seems wrong to be ashamed of them just because they didn’t get into Vandy) and a pair of yoga pants. There also might have been a mustachio-type situation above my lip and David Lynch hair. This was YEARS ago and I still remember the horror.
Which isn’t to say that people can’t be perfectly cute in t-shirts and yoga pants, it’s just that I’m not one of them, and odds are –unless you’re a 22 year-old coed on a volleyball scholarship– you aren’t either.
Today Miss Plumcake wants to know:
Do you put on lipstick before running errands? If you DO, do you do it to meet men? If you DON’T, why not?