Hands-down, my favorite purchase of 2007

Tasked by a familial client to do some last-minute holiday shopping, I hiked it four-inch heels, thin trench and all up to Georgetown this evening after work to make one last pilgrimage to Club Monaco before my impatience with shove-happy crowds and women who walk six shopping bags across manifested itself in the form of a potentially violent, "As a matter of fact, ma'am, I do have a problem" confrontation.

After picking up a pair of elbow-length leather gloves, a slouchy oversized gunmetal clutch and a few of the gauziest, coziest turtlenecks in three lovely shades of black, blacker and blackest, instead of heading home, something compelled me to abandon my 45-minute target and instead make a quick stop down and around the WiscAve/M St. intersection to Zara.

I didn't need anything, of course, but as Oprah is always telling me, when you hear that inner-voice speak to you, honey child, you better prick up those ears and listen.

So listen I did.

And thank goodness, because had I not, I would never have found this, my hands-down favorite purchase of 2007. There's really not much else to say other than I can now die happy that I've found a way to literally wear my love for all the world to see.

"Oh Mum, it's splendid, just splendid. But honestly, couldn't you have tidied up the box-shelf a bit before we sat for the photo?"

*I do apologize, but I think you'll understand why this post took precedence over the dress-code follow-up. Be sure to keep an eye out for that post (I promise) at some point this weekend...

Hello, my name is Johanna, and I'm a high-neckline-aholic

First, there was this.

Followed by this.

Then this.

And this.

Oh, and then there was this.

And now, after what is embarrassingly the eleventh like-cut addition to my wardrobe in less than one calendar year, we have this:


And from ze back:

Two months ago, Hot Redhead Lawyer mentioned in passing that she'd seen a dress at Club Monaco that immediately made her think of me.

"Black, knee-length, shoulder baring, funnel-neck -- it was 'you' right down to the modest little keyhole."

A few weeks after she first came upon it, the two of us found ourselves in the Georgetown store on a post-brunch shopping excursion. Right away, before HRL could confirm it was in fact the same dress, I recognized it, wanted it, looked at the price-tag (then $179.99), hemmed, mentally shuffled through my inventory of LBWD*, hawed, and finally returned the hanger to its resting place.

"How come?" my painfully chic friend asked when I answered "no" to her, "Are you trying it on?"

"I just can't justify it right now," I replied. "Anyway, it's wool -- what is it outside, 88 degrees? I couldn't even begin to think about knowing how to wear Fall fabrics right now," I said with such matter-of-fact-edness it was clear I didn't believe a word of what I'd just said.

With my decision semi-firmly made, we made our way past the security guard and out the double glass doors, but not before I could shoot my dress a melodramatic, palms-against-the-prison-glass "maybe one day..." look over my right shoulder.

Since then, I've thought about her on occasion (you might have noticed items tend to shift from the neuter to the feminine once a bond is formed), most notably the time I saw her on another, much squatter woman who happened to be in wedged peep-toes of all unfortunate footwear options and whose fleshy, untoned shoulders really shouldn't have "gone there," to use a euphemistic colloquialism.

In the moment, I couldn't decide which was more tragic, that this woman had her and I didn't or the fact that her seams were stretched to the near-burst point, her hemline was inadvertently raised by the girth of this woman's mid-section and that her under-sleeves were clearly caked with deodorant.

Either way, it didn't matter. I still had too many blouses and dresses with similar necklines in the same color -- there was no need to add to the collection another sister, especially one whose price-point was just high enough that it would affect that month's budget.

Fast-forward four weeks to yesterday afternoon.

Finally getting off my duff after watching four straight hours of "True Life" episodes I'd already seen, I sojourned over to the Pentagon City Nordstrom to return two didn't-fit items and to snap up my sister-in-law a _______ from the _______ department for Christmas. A half hour later, I somehow wandered my way into a Club Monaco fitting room with my want-it-but-still-didn't-need-it dress.

Excuse me, my want-it-but-still-didn't-need-it, on-sale dress.

Am I right, or am I right that when something you know you don't need drops in price from $179.99 to $79.99 (then add an additional 15%-off savings from an in-store coupon) it has a tendency to creep into the maybe-I-actually-do-need-it category?

After all, once I have Mr. Lee raise the hem an inch and a half, it'll be the perfect post-work holiday party dress**, and at last count, I only had five or six of those to go around...

*LBWD = little black work dress

**to be worn with a cropped swing jacket, of course, between 9 and 6

Before we have to start buying for others...

We've all been told it's better to give than to receive.

Yeeeah, okay I can see that. I guess I get the flutters when I open the bag of chicken jerky and see the awed look of "Really, Mom? Really?" on my smuckerbug's face, and I'm pretty sure I remember a kind of warm rumble in my mid-section the last time I gave him a no-reciprocation-required paw massage.

But beyond those special moments, my favorite kind of giving is when I give myself something pretty, something in the way of a nice wool-jersey blend with cute pouf-sleeves and an of-interest neckline. Or maybe something of the fitted black cashmere variety. Or something high-waisted in a nice houndstooth.

You get the point.

The best store for this sort of me-to-me gift giving is without doubt the Narnia of neutrals, the don't-worry-it's-okay-to-wear-all-black-in-here haven known as Club Monaco. And thanks to reader 'holiday,' we all now have an excuse to head over there (unfortunately, they don't sell their clothing online) between 11/15 and 11/19 for some serious good-deal shopping.

Outlook it, ladies -- you don't want to let this opportunity slip away.

*note: make sure to print out the above advert and bring it with you when you visit the Club Monaco location nearest you

Since I don't (yet)

High-waisted scribble print pencil skirt

$129 at Club Monaco

When Georgetown's good, it's *really* good.

Most days of the week, most weekends in the month, most holidays during the year (graduation season, included), you couldn't tempt me with a Cusp giftcard to put up with Georgetown. It's a mix of the crowd, the style, the stores, the tourists and their hold-everyone-up pace, and most notably, the ubiquitous sense of entitlement with which I inevitably come into contact that never fails to ruin my day.

Some days, though, WiscAve from Sequoia to Urban Chic and M St. from Hu's Shoes to Waterworks - Georgetown's shopping district - is good. Really good.

And sometimes, when the weather, the company, and your mood is just right, even the walk from Logan Circle to Lily-Pulitzer-central can turn a brokenhearted girl into a hopeful one.

If she stops at Betsy Fisher, that is, and drinks a Pinot spritzer while trying on a couple of beautiful dresses she might one day be able to afford.

Readers, enjoy below today's low-pixelage shopping diary:

Python-trimmed grey plisse racerback dress by June

($400, in-store only at the Betsy Fisher boutique)

I tried to look surprised instead of "I know, right?" when

Betsy told me this dress made my chest look amazing.Eyelet housewife dress by Vivienne Tam

($445, in-store only at the Betsy Fisher boutique)

I imagine myself wearing this dress commando with pearl studs
handing the man I love a packed-with-care sack lunch while

whispering in his ear how I'm going to ______ his ______ off

when he gets home from work.

High-waisted black-scribble-print pencil skirt
($149, in-store only at Club Monaco)

L insisted you get an ass shot. Thank her, not me.
Metallic Ankle-Strap Sandal by Maison Martin Margiela
($645, in-store only at Hu's Shoes) In the end, pricey duds are nice, but all a girl really needs on a

sunny May day is to find an identical twin (in black) to her

under-$100 red Zara baby and a thick-strawed Thai bubble

milk-tea with extra tapioca bubbles ($4.25 at Snap)

Okay, that's complete bullshit.

The truth is, I offered the extremely gracious salesman at Hu's his choice of any and all of my vital organs - even those I only have one of - for those unbelievably sexy, unbelievably so very me, last-pair-in-my-size gold-bangle-ankle-strap stilettos but he wouldn't budge. Sugar Daddies, please take note -- I wear a 38.