Since I don't (yet)

Puff-sleeve jersey top by Banana Republic

$38 at bananarepublic.com

Since I don't (yet)

Blousant lambswool cardigan
$98 at bananarepublic.com

The *perfect* blouse: a work in progress

Tuesday night, I found her.

Wednesday morning, I ordered her.

Thursday, all day, I waited for her.

Friday, after work, I received her.

A *perfect* short-and-sweet timetable for a *perfect* blouse, right?

Not quite.

As is obvious in the picture above and in the two below, the blouse, aesthetically speaking, is beautiful: the silk hearty, the pleating well constructed, the cap sleeves meticulously stitched, and the color, oh my god, forget about it -- gunmetal at its most gorgeous.

But despite all that good, there was the all-important issue of fit, an area in which my new Banana Republic dress shell most definitely did not excel.

Not only does the blouse run quite large - I'm almost exclusively a size "S," but as you can see here, I'm shapelessly swimming in extra fabric from the sleeves down - but it's also uncompromisingly boxy, a shape with which the slim pencil skirt, high-waisted or otherwise, is completely incompatible.

Whilst slow-baking shoreside on Saturday, I realized I have two choices, the first of which is to send the "return" label back to Banana Republic HQ, collect my $80.32, and continue on my quest to find another silk cap-sleeved pleat-neck blouse.

The second option, a much more involved option, is to use the "exchange" label, wait for my "XS" to arrive, evaluate the up-top fit, and assuming all drapes well from the shoulders to the chest, take the blouse to my trusty seamstress Alicia and have her craft a much more tailored, contoured shape.

In any other situation, with any other wardrobe component, I'd go with the former, but given how long I've been looking for an affordable version of this exact design and given that its gunmetal color exceeded my unreasonably high expectations, I decided to follow my instincts and opt for the latter.

Normally, I wouldn't include you so intimately in my do-I-keep-it-or-return-it? inner dialogue, but in light of how much interest this blouse generated last week, I thought I'd warn potential buyers to (1) order a size smaller than you normally wear and (2) be prepared to invest another $15-$25 in tailoring if you're planning to rock the slim-tuck.

Two more snaps of the *perfect* blouse fitting my frame far from perfectly:

The *perfect* blouse FINALLY FOUND!

I thought the day might never come...

But here it is and in my favorite-for-Fall color, no less:

Silk pleated cap-sleeve top ($68 at bananarepublic.com)

And in case you need a memory jog, the blouse that started the quest:

Since I don't (yet)

Silk/wool button-tab skirt

$88 at bananarepublic.com

You know you look like a tool, right?

I've found it.

I've found the one accessory that is so powerfully wrong it can take an extremely well-dressed woman with excellent posture, Marc Jacobs peeptoes, near professionally-applied eye makeup, Reese-worthy hair, Laura-Linney-worthy skin and a set of 20 perfectly shaped, short black nails from a Britney during this stage to a Britney during...well, just click here.

Of course, the accessory to which I am referring is the ubiquitous, makes-anyone-look-like-a-giant-tool Bluetooth headset.

I don't own one of these devices, so I can't say for sure how easy or difficult it is to forget it's clipped to your head, but judging from the size of the one this woman at the Cosi on 20th and M had harnessed to the side of her face this afternoon - it was literally the size of my Treo - I have to believe she knew it was there. In a painfully well-cut black pinstriped pantsuit, the black and ivory polka-dot cap-sleeved blouse with Peter Pan collar from Banana Republic with which my lady goods weren't able to make peace at button four and the aforementioned Marc Jacobs heels, this woman, based on the way she was dressed, really should have known better.

Even if she had been mid-conversation (she wasn't), it's just plain unladylike to order anything, pay for anything, talk to someone, or be in a position where you might have to talk to someone with a gadget two inches from your face.

Well, certainly not every kind of gadget.

Anyway, if looking like the kind of cold shrew who doesn't "repay the favor" isn't convincing enough, let me be completely honest and tell you that as beautiful as her poppy Kate Spade London bag was ($415 at katespade.com), even its custom nickel hardware, intensely Communist-red pigmentation and structured-but-not-intimidatingly-so silhouette weren't enough to vitiate the get-over-yourself eye-roll her headset elicited from even the toddler standing next to me.