I intentionally left work a little earlier than usual last night.
My 5pm exit didn't have anything to do with needed prep time for a 'special someone' dinner reservation or at-home hydrating before a 'single and so okay with it' happy hour.
No, I left when I did yesterday because of you, or rather because of what many of you have been saying about my lack of DC-centric posting lately. After the dozenth or so "you've lost your direction" public profession, I thought I'd give myself some fresh air, say "hello" to Josh manning the door at Camelot and perhaps pick up a confidence-boosting smile or two.
Before I even took my sweet Valentine time, strolling on L for a couple of blocks, then shifting over to K and finally back to M, I had already identified the singular and specific reason for the paucity of this blog's bread and butter bitchiness in recent weeks.
Put simply, DC women have been looking much better lately.
True, I'm taking fewer lunch breaks and keeping my head in a more to-the-body tuck to avoid another season of "naturally" bronzed cheeks, but from what I've seen -or in some respects, not seen- during the 20 minutes or so of daylight I take in each morning, there aren't nearly as many major offenses walking the ConnAve corridor as there were last year at this time.
No new ones, anyway.
Honestly, how many times and in how many different ways can a girl berate her city's female professional population for walking the weekday streets in the same strappy evenings sandals, boxy poly-blend button-downs and denim skirts?
I'm not implying I've reached the end of my creative rope, not in the least, but that of which I am patently sure is how I work best, and that has everything to do with inspiration -- feeling it, being driven by it and producing persuasive pieces as a result of it.
For the first time during my young tenure as a blogger, I haven't felt very inspired by what I've seen on these sidewalks. There's been nothing particularly good nor bad, just a whole lot of hovering around the status-quo, which in itself could be fodder for an interesting post, I suppose, but call me nutty, I found my insights from what I saw at The Coterie and the prettiness of New York Fashion Week welcome breaks from the doldrums of rehashed 'DC dont's' of posts past.
So yesterday, a bit disheartened, I set out for a walk with no destination, no timetable and no real purpose other than to soak in the view and like I said, to offer Josh his daily greeting.
As I stepped from carpet to concrete and realized it was much milder than I anticipated (thank goodness, as I'd forgotten my gloves), I saw almost immediately a highly abnormal level of fabulousness going on in front of me.
"What in the world...," I thought to myself as not one, not two, not three but four consecutive women in slim, leg-baring black skirts (or dresses?), tasteful high heels and perfectly tailored showpiece coats -one each in red, ivory, black and camel- whizzed by me in a frenzied click-click-click sprint.
One of them, I do believe, was even rocking the sheer black hose with sexy back-seaming.
Before I could process what it was I'd just witnessed, another chic treat in a navy military-style wool trench, side-tipped Dita-style hat and these precious Marc by Marc Jacobs peep-toe pumps nearly sideswiped me by the CVS at ConnAve and L. And no sooner had she passed did two others emerge -one with flawless Hillary eyes and the other wearing that metallic Alice+Olivia party topper I so coveted but could never find in my size- by the flower stand outside Farragut North's K Street exit.
As this last one rushed past me, I happened to catch a few seconds of her phone conversation, and suddenly, it all made sense.
"I can't talk now, Janelle, I've got to get his present, wrap it, pick through all the shit cards that are left at Border's, find something that isn't totally lame, write something that isn't totally lame, and get to Citronelle by 6:15..."
It may not mean a style revolution is nigh, it may not mean that these women who looked so tremendous in their dressy garb won't fall victim to an unfortunate polo-and-khakis Casual Friday uniform today, but I gotta tell you, there was a reason why my 15 minute walk home clocked in at triple that time last night.
Because of you, gussied up DC women, my wanting inspiration got the adrenaline injection it so sorely needed.
I just hope the feeling you all had of knowing you were the prettiest girl in the room and realizing that the confidence you summoned through that great dress, that fancy hat, that sexy kohled eye or that special pair of shoes doesn't have to be a once annual experience.
And on that note, have a great long weekend.
p.s. the red suede Marchesa dress with rose-bunch shoulders pictured at top is what I would have worn last night had I been able to locate that direct easy-button transport into Georgina Chapman's life...damn, where did I put that?