12 May 2006

Now I've gone and done it

I did something really regrettable this afternoon. I ventured into the Land of Temptation. After years of repeatedly subscribing to the Anthropologie catalog (repeatedly because, since I never buy anything, I always get booted off the mailing list after two or three seasons of mooching pretty pictures and I have to start the sign-me-up process all over again); dog-earing pages of dreamy clothes and home furnishings; drawing stars of ball-point desire by the most alluring items; crying, "Oh! Look! Look!" in unison with huddles of sisters-in-law; and cross-referencing with Oilily; I took the unspeakably dangerous step over the line and entered the non-print 3-D world of the Gateway Plaza Anthropologie. I could blame my Rob; he's always egging me on: "You should go in there one day. Try on some clothes." Yeah. Sure. Don't I already torture myself enough every day without falling in hopeless love with a $400 pair of socks, or worse, an outfit that would rival a healthy downpayment on a home?

Well, today I did it. Half of it at least. I stepped inside. I passed the threshold. I only had three and a quarter minutes tops to ogle the offerings, as my companion and I were on our way to pick up an elderly friend downtown who would be tapping her toes with impatience in the hot sun if we were late. Three and a quarter minutes--that's only 255 seconds, but I made them count. I touched with my eyes and fingers as much color and texture as I could. I treated the experience as a trip to an art gallery. A really fast trip. Sure, a few lovely pieces stung me, but it helped my resistance to have time working against us. I couldn't get too emotionally involved, or so I thought until I was a few steps away from the exit. That's when I saw it. That's when I spotted THE DRESS. I happened to turn and there it was, on the end of a rack, looking at me.

"Hello. Do I know you?" it asked, politely. "Excuse me, but I think we met in the pre-existence. Please, won't you help me fill the measure of my creation?"

"You . . . are . . . beautiful! Who's your designer, James Audubon? You're . . . you're covered in flowers and . . . and . . . hummingbirds!"

It was, as I said, necessarily a brief meeting. There was definitely chemistry between us, but there were the apparent problems of price and modesty. I didn't happen to have $158 plus tax. I didn't happen to have time to figure out what to layer beneath the dress (ah, the clavicle! the shoulders! the back!). I didn't happen to have time to try it on either, which is probably what actually saved me.

Ah, me. It hurts. How will I ever get to sleep tonight?

I've always said and still maintain that if I ever become a rich person I will continue to frequent thrift stores and funky second-hand shops. I can't think I would ever not want to hit D.I. or Goodwill, or Grunts & Postures. I'd want to use my money for better causes than stuffing my closet with big-ticket pieces, and I do love the hunt when it comes to thrifting. But you know what? If I ever do find myself rolling in money, I think I am just priority-challenged enough to want to budget at least a little for some regular Anthropologie therapy.

Note to all bloggerettes who purchased the viral shirt: complete your look with these--


LuckyRedHen said...


Azúcar said...

Oh Geo, how amazing of you not to fall into temptation, I can't say I would have done the same thing.

"We'll just eat pancakes for the week!"

Geo said...

i.s.f.: Yeah, I need 'em.

azucar: I don't know how to accent your u. Who's this blonde alter-ego? (Remember I'm pop culturally-challenged.)

It's not so amazing when you consider that it would have taken me the entire three and a quarter minutes I had to be in the store just to find the dressing room. Now, if it had been Gap or Banana Republic and I could have made an educated guess as to how their clothes are cut, and been confident in taking THE DRESS home untried, it might have been amazing of me to say no to a sure-fire fit. Too many things were working against me yesterday (including my conscience), plus pancakes aren't currently allowed on my health diet.

Emmie said...

I went into Anthropologie today. I tried on a dress - I couldn't resist. It was beautiful and red and $289. I waved to it through the store window as I walked away . . .

Maybe I'll go back and visit it sometime. If I do, I'll say hello to the hummingbird dress for you.

compulsive writer said...

Sooooooooo funny! Our planets must be aligning in the same directions, because I am currently having an affair with a soulmate of a bag. (And will you dear and articulate people please come up with a better name for it than just "bag." It's so much more...)

Which I have been flirting with now for months.

I wonder if you can enjoy the heavenly dress almost as much and certainly as guiltlessly as I am currently virtually enjoying a certain chocolate chip cookie?

Which I visit regularly and frequently enough to be awarded visitation rights.

Jamie said...

Back when we got married and were a two-income family and the Gateway had just opened, we bought THREE items at said anthropolgie store, two of which are one-of-a-kind duvet covers. I have never been svelte enought to even dream of wearing thier clothes, but I am a sucker for the housewares/linens. But last time I was in town, I went there and just waved, since there are four-and-a-half of us living on 60% of the money we used to make! Glad I got those three items when I did! ;) Hey, a kid in our ward made jsut over $500 havng a car wash at our office today to earn money for a student government trip to Australia. Maybe you could have a benefit for Georgia's Wardrobe. I'd pay you $20 toward the dress adn my car's hardly even dirty!

J'oga said...

Women are such odd creatures, don't you think?

compulsive writer said...

Not only odd. But apparently we're all a bunch of insomniacs, too!

~j. said...

The boots ARE hot.

I don't know much about the Anthropologie...but that dress is LOVELY.

Geo said...

emmie: Is this your dress? Nice! I'll have one of those too . . . .

compulsive: It's not a bag, it's a "miniaudiére"! Or, if you prefer, a "reticule". Also nice. Italian leather gets me too, more especially when it's binding some gorgeous blank book.

The cookie looks deadly good. Thanks for feeding my insomnia!

jamie: So what was Anthropologie purchase #3?

The fundraiser isn't a bad idea. But washing cars solo? Maybe I could have a bake sale, or knit for cash. Thanks for your pledge. THE DRESS and I thank you.

j'oga: Ah, but let us not forget that it was also Adam who wanted to don a modest leaf suit after he and Eve indulged in some forbidden fruit salad. What could be more true to the spirit of Eden than to want to cover one's nakedness with a floor-length dress full of flowers and birds? We're all of us odd, not just the womenfolk--it's just that the shes overall seem to be much more into wardrobe variety and changing their socks.

compulsive again: Did you get your house clean?

~j.: I don't expect the boots to go viral though, even with the incredible markdown they're still in the $200 range. Blah.

Azúcar said...

My dress.

You have yours, I'll have mine, and happy we will be.

My heart is throbbing for my dress!

Azúcar said...

p.s. my avatar is Veronica Mars. Season one now available for rent should you choose to avail yourself. I highly recommend.

compulsive writer said...

No. The house will never be clean. But I am so proud of myself for getting up and making crepes for everyone anyway.

Even after staying up till 2:00 am.

And I made it into my last-row pew by the middle of the opening song.

Baby steps.

Emmie said...

This is my dress, in cherry. (Zoom in, if you wish, for the full effect.) For some reason, it was marked $289 at the store. Just as well - it's unaffordable at either price!

I love the one you found, and will add it to my dream list, along with Carina's divine, delish dress.

c jane said...

I have fallen to the Anthropologie demon many, many times in my life. I can't walk away Geo, so I applaud you and your efforts.

Jamie said...

Thing #3 was, of course, an apron. I collect only two things (besides great friends)--postcards and aprons. Couldn't resist!

Turns out that car wash kid made $760 in five hours, which is WAY better than OUR day job. And I am sure the same kids who helped him for free would help you--after all, it's a good cause! I think a knit-a-thon might be even better. Someday I am gonna learn how to do that (as soon as I learn to do my current projects--doing laundry, planning and preparing meals, and raising kids into decent adults--it might take a while cuz I'm turning out to be a slow learner).

Geo said...

azúcar: When I cut and paste your name, the accent shows up. How do I do it the non-cheater way?

Your dress is really terrific! And about as garment-ready as mine. *sigh*

compulsive: Good for you! My baby step today was tackling the basement for 15 minutes ONLY. It's amazing what can actually happen in that amount of time. Now, if only I could get the consistency part down . . . (I would cease to be me).

Emmie: Your dress is gorgeous too. I tried on a dress that wants to be that dress last week--yours is definitely the better (and more unattainable) of the two. Looks like we're going to soon have an Adopt-An-Anthropologie-Dress campaign going on amongst the bloggerette set.

c.jane: Choose another Anthropologie frock now and don't buy it--it's all the rage!

jamie: I did notice some fantabulous aprons on display right before I spotted THE DRESS. I don't blame you for caving.

As for my knit-a-thon, I've decided it couldn't be lucrative enough. Fun, yes, but fun ain't gonna buy me a bodyful o' flowers and hummingbirds. I'll have to rethink my plan.

Also, if you want to come down for knitting lessons some time, I'm game to teach you. Don't wait till you're perfect at everything else. It might be good therapy for you on days when you're less than Supermom.

Jamie said...

...and I'll bet I could knit little baby boy something cool for way cheaper than I could buy it!

Geo said...

jamie: Cheaper? That's doubtful, unless you're planning to buy Oilily. But it's fun and relaxing, which is priceless.

Chemical Billy said...

I lust those boots, too.

But Anthropologie, sigh. I was rich for a brief, rudderless time in my life (my year as a single woman), and I bought a scarf for Mom, a cardigan with hallucinatory flowers embroidered, and a skirt. The skirt disintegrated over the years & the dry cleaner refused to repair the cardigan anymore, but the scarf reverted to me...

I didn't know about Oilily, though. Nooo!

Anonymous said...

The DRESS is on sale!

Geo said...

billy the babe: Oilily catalogs also have the torturous element (for me, anyway) of having the most adorable children in the universe modelling their kids' line, which is shown in the same catalog as their women's line. I would always choose myself a few outfits and then a squad of youngsters but dang if I could ever scrape together enough for the shipping.

anonymous: Warm thanks and curses too for the sale tip! Aaauuggh!!! Still 90+ bucks. I'm so close and yet still so far! Don't you know you're feeding an unhealthy addiction? ; )

Chemical Billy said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Chemical Billy said...

Okay, here's a way to slake the anthropologie lust! A friend sent a link to this knitting pattern.