Since I don't (yet)

Ribbed-collar leather bomber by TRF
$149.95, in Zara stores worldwide

For every two that get away...

Before I show you pictures of two of the three items I picked up last Friday - the third set, of my high-waisted gunmetal A-line skirt with deep center-pleat, unfortunately, was too blurry to share - let me first say that even though this new Zara in Penn Quarter has a more pleasing-to-the-eye layout and is a heck of a lot more convenient to scoot to (think 15 minute walk versus 40 minute walk) than the Georgetown location, after one visit with mixed results on both inventory and atmosphere, I'm firmly committed to a Georgetown first, Penn Quarter second shopping strategy.

I never thought I'd miss the flocks of oversized sunglass wearing, leggings-and-flats rocking, Longchamp totes toting campus girls that often stand between that last size-S swing jacket and me, but frankly, I'd rather be around them than a busload of high-schoolers who have time to burn after their tour of the International Spy Museum and before dinner at Fuddruckers.

There's just something about braces and hooded sweatshirts that I don't really want around my shopping experience, you know?

And on that nose-in-the-air note...

Treasure #1:
olive trench with A-line skirt and fold-up/down exaggerated collar ($99)

"I hadn't planned on a trench purchase, but this one...my goodness, how perfectly would it complement all the neutrals in my closet, not to mention that wishlist waspie I keep expecting my anonymous sugar daddy to send me in the mail?"

"That's right, saleslady, I'm taking pictures. Of myself. In the mirror. In front of everyone. It's called vanity. And hey, don't think I didn't see that eyebrow raise when I told you I needed the XS -- see, I did need it."

Treasure #2:

cowl-necked, tiered cap-sleeved holly red satin sheath ($149)

"True, satin is a bitch to keep wrinkle-free and I do already have a red party dress with an of-interest neckline, but I'm pretty sure the extra six inches on this one will afford me the ability to sit, walk without fear of a boyshort-peek and if I get nibbly, bend over to pick up a cheese-cube off the crudite tray. I'll save the other one for drinks with the engaged ex and this one for the work party. Perfect. Just like my LC pose."

"Now I ask you, would a Thai rent-boy be able to pull off red satin this fant-ass-tically? He would? Even better? You've seen it? Sh*t."
"Ze neckline! Ooooh ze neckline! Me love! Me must get!"

As a totally unrelated aside, can I please ask where the smack the new Rilo Kiley album was when I desperately needed it a year six months two Fridays ago? The surprisingly sweet upbeat-edness of the first and fourth tracks - "Silver Lining" and "Breaking Up" - is just the kind of go-ahead-and-be-sad-but-not-too-sad lyrical diversion I should have been using to dress my wounded heart instead of pummeling it with constant replays of "Back to Black," "Reason Why" and the song that closed last night's episode of Tell me you love me.

But enough about that -- please to enjoy Rilo Kiley's "Silver Lining":

(top photo courtesy of PQgirl)

When clothes you want to fit *don't* - a heartbreak in two parts

The successes from yesterday's trip to the new Zara in Penn Quarter/Metro Center to be celebrated in full, photographic glory on Monday. Get excited, too, because I took so many pictures in the two hours I was there that I even received my first concerned, "Um, Ma'am, is everything all right in there?"

Oh, and it was - "all right" and then some - but you'll have to wait a couple more days to see those treasures.

For now, let's focus on the tragedies, those two pieces that could have and would have added so much texture and additional-permutation potential to my Fall/Winter wardrobe had they just been a bit more...how shall I say, forgiving.

Heartbreak #1:

the ivory asymmetric, ruffle-front silk halter blouse ($39)

"So me. That's all I can think, this is so me. The neckline, the ruffling, the neutral color. I could wear it with my high-waisted wide-legged trousers, my high-waisted skirts, my...wait a minute, is that my nipple?"

"Unless I want to walk around hiding my bit's bit, not to mention show off a mid-section full of one-size-too-small wrinkle-age, I better put this in the 'no' pile."

Heartbreak #2:

brown tweed pencil sheath with front pocket-pouch ($99)

"Love love LOVE the rolled collar. And those half cap-sleeves - I don't have a single work dress with sleeves like these. The top half is snug, but once I wear a bra with less embellishment and less up-and-out push, it could totally work..."
"Okay, yeah, this is tight. Really tight. This is creeping up on KimKar-in-Hervé-Léger tight. It could still work, though, if I have Alicia let it out an inch and I wear my new Slim Cognito."
"This is not good. This reminds me of the time when _____ left me in Coach to sit by himself in First Class because it was 'more comfortable'. This is the point when I know I need to walk away."

Since I don't (yet)

Grey suede platform peep-toe pumps
$99 at Zara

Since I don't (yet)

Boatneck drop-waisted mini

$69 at Zara

Only she could make me rethink pink

It's embarrassing, it's regrettable, but it's true -- ask anyone who knew me between 1994 and 2002, and they would all say, without a whit of hesitation, that I had the market cornered when it came to wearing pink anything.

Pink velour track pants? Check.

Pink turtleneck sweater? Check.

Pink strapless cocktail shift? Check.

Pink tie-front bandeau bikini? Check.

Charlotte ringer tees in Easter pink, raspberry pink, electric pink and red-faded-into-Hawaiian-punch pink? Check, check, check aaaand check.

I wore so much pink so often during high school and college that literally, one day shortly after graduation, I woke up, looked at my two-thirds pink wardrobe arranged neatly from dark-to-light in my closet, turned away and said, "No more."

And since then, aside from my Georgetown University entrance ticket (i.e. the super-fitted, baby pink Izod polo), I haven't put a single dollar toward anything remotely resembling the color of fabulosity, according to Kimora Lee Simmons. Not an eyeshadow, not a nail polish, not a lip gloss, not even a pair of for-the-bedroom boyshorts.

After five solid years of living a pink-free lifestyle, I neither missed it nor honestly thought I'd ever wear it again.

But then, out of nowhere, came this:This serene scene of the lovely Katie in a rich berry, thick-knitted coat-dress and catch-your-breath beautiful black Giuseppi Zanotti knee-high stiletto boots carrying a sleeping Suri en route to a flower shop after a taxing two-hour private tour at the Louvre not only affirmed the sentiments I've shared with you in posts like this, this and this but also opened my eyes for the first time in years to the possibility of reintroducing pink to my wardrobe.

Naturally, it would be a different kind of pink. A grown-up pink. The kind of pink a woman would wear not to boldly assert her femininity but rather as an every-now-and-then alternative to classic black that would allow her to feel "brightened up" but still well within the confines of her hallmark prim, elegant aesthetic. I may not have reached Holmesian-level perfection with the rose-hued, funnel-necked, structured-twill trapeze dress I liberated from Zara after work last Friday - the exposed zipper, for example, would not have been my first choice - but considering the perfect fit, the coveted neckline, and of course, its palatable $99 price tag, I'm confident I came as close to her gold standard as a girl on a budget could.

The dress:

Whether I wear the new frock with my vintage croc-embossed pumps, my rosette-adorned satin peep toes, or, after I finally nail down a good time to take that two-week hiatus to have an egg harvested and earn that easy $25K for which I have only three more years of eligibility, these cognac almond-toed Alta Arielle Talon stiletto boots, I'm confident I'll feel just as sophisticated and sleek in pink as I do every other day in my signature all-black.

So, for the rest of you think-you-hate-pink people out there, I urge you to give this hue another chance. Not a nostalgic throwback-to-the-pep-rally chance, not a frilly feminine chance, but a thoughtful, adult chance. Go for deep mauves, clean and subtle ballets, rich matte magentas or, if you're not ready to take the full leap, at least indulge in a pop-of-pink item like this dress from Milly or this blouse from Harkham.

Before I go, I should also mention that what truly made acquiring this precious-'n'-pink dress so satisfying was that I found it shortly after leaving behind a different one, one I loved so much I actually seriously considered reallocating a quarter month's rent toward its purchase.

Where? At Cusp, of course, where everything - except these - is a wishlist item and nothing aside from Spanx, a few pairs of Sam Edelman flats and the judgmental, "Why should I give you a fitting room if you and I both know you're not going to buy anything?" eyerolls costs less than $295.

Which dress? This sweet, sequined-belted, bubble-hemmed tweed cocktail dress with keyhole back from Vera Wang's Lavender Label collection. Recognize the pleated neckline? Yeah, I did, too. I wanted so badly to give my two sateen-cotton girls a wool sister, but alas, sometimes finances force families to stay small.

"$430 isn't that much...I mean, I could totes class up my bralessness with pearls and clear gloss and make it office-appropriate, right?"

"The sequined belt isn't detachable? Fiddlesticks, I guess that would make it a bit too may-juh for behind a desk on a Tuesday."

One day, sweet overpriced dresses, one day we will be together...

What inevitably happens when I go shopping for someone else

There is no other person for whom I would endure a Saturday afternoon battling the elements - and by "elements" I mean the kind of people who, when their cards are denied at Steve Madden, say things to tired, defeated salesgirls like, "Well, it's probably a fraud protection thing because I just dropped $2,800 at Intermix and $1,500 at Barney's, here try this other AmEx" - than my girl L.

Perhaps it's just that I'm particularly selfish, but when it comes to picking out a Christmas present for my Mother, a baby shower present for my sister-in-law, and today, a birthday present for my best friend, I always spend a good deal more time looking at that-would-look-so-cute-on-me than that-would-look-so-cute-on-her items.

Hence, this adorable deep scoopneck dress in shocking-red with ruffled neckline and criss-cross back from Zara that flattered my assets as perfectly as Vivian's red dress, in its own way, did hers.

In the end, of course, I found just the right 3.5-inch patent-leather way to tell L how much her friendship and acceptance of my judgmental unacceptance means to me.

And yes, guilty-as-charged, I also fed the beast that is my closet by indulging in this sweet summer frock -- it was $59 at Zara, after all, not "$2,800 at Intermix."