The Dream Dress vs. Sweatpants

I thought I was going to a party tonight. It has been canceled. I was actually quite relieved, as a shopping excursion yesterday (meant to infuse my wardrobe with a cooler-than-usual factor) ended rather pathetically. I tried to keep track of how many clothes I tried on. I think it was 51. Or 52. I bought nothing.

I wasn't all that upset about it, just a little weary. And then I went home and raided my closet and actually discovered a couple of combinations that could have made me look semi-fabulous.

At some point in my evening at the mall, I thought I found my dream dress. It was a blatant ripoff of my favorite frock from the Fall 2008 RTW (ready-to-wear) lines. Le Chateau isn't Michael Kors, but it was so close.

This is the runway version of the dress.

It made me look like a slightly overweight linebacker in drag. Pretty impressive, really, as I don't typically categorize myself as such. So I'm glad I tried it on. I'm no longer wondering, "What if...?" Of course, this doesn't mean I've given up on the Kors dream. Just the cheap version.

(The dress, without the belt, is $1895.00. Yes, I looked it up. The belt is $395.00.)

I love fashion, despite all the shopping frustration I endure. I saw Clueless twice in theatres. For the clothing. And for that fancy closet/wardrobe-software system. I still like plaid skirts because of it. And I saw (and own) The Devil Wears Prada, again, because of the clothes (and the post-school, pre-life-crisis issues so wonderfully explored). I know some girls consider cute leading men as eye candy. I think I prefer Chanel.

Speaking of Chanel (types the seque queen)...

There's a bio pic coming out. About Coco Chanel, not Karl Lagerfeld (the current art director for the House of Chanel). And Audrey Tatou is starring, which I love, as she's gorgeous, French (as opposed to an American butchering an accent) and actually resembles the icon.

Head on over to MovieZen for more.

Here's my favorite vintage Chanel look in recent memory. Because it's very Audrey. Hepburn, not Tatou. I would chop off my hair if I had that face too. And/or if I were paid millions to do so. Or thousands. Or hundreds. Or dozens.

It's raining. Again. I'm in sweats. And I'm comfortably a fashionista in my own mind while typing this in old pink slippers that need replacing.