Only 124 days to go...

Outlook the date and start looking now for a dress worthy of SAtC premiere night...

That for which I'm most thankful this Thanksgiving

My ultimate wishlist item - this McQueen funnel-neck mini - is still available in my size. Even when I'm frantically busy, I always remember to visit her at least twice a day at her home on Net-a-Porter.

Never have I found a pair of shoes to which I'm so attached I don't mind wearing them five days in a row. They're tall, they're ladylike, they're complementary to everything in my wardrobe and best of all, they're affordable enough so that I could buy not one but *two* preemptive replacement pairs.

The Mr. Bigs of this world may cause us an inordinate amount of heartache, but ultimately, when you bump into yours on a random Saturday evening in the parking garage just outside Neiman Marcus and it's all still very much there for both of you - palpably so - you know he was worth all 377 plays of "Tears Dry on Their Own."Katie Holmes.

This photo from The Sartorialist. It was she who inspired me to chop mine off.

The Midwest. My besties. While their hair hues may match the SatC girls' to a perfect 'T,' believe me when I say their three-dimensional personalities are loads more compelling. We may only regularly see each other Monday nights in BridalBird's nest, but more often than not, they and their sent-via-e-mail caustic wit are the best part of my every day. C, K, L and L FTW!!111!!1
Doggies...especially that little breakfast burrito in the lower right hand corner.
At the risk of sounding like a bad Academy Award acceptance speech, I'm most thankful this year for all of those who have supported this blog, which just a year ago was barely a zygote of an idea in my long-haired head. Without your supportive readership, I'd probably still be getting eight hours of sleep and maintaining healthy relationships with my friends, family, Monte and maybe even a nice 63 year old, flag-lapel-pin-wearing Republican. And for that, I thank you.

Don't punish the outfit.

Choosing an outfit for a date is a complicated task made even more complicated by the potential for positive/negative permanent clothing association.

Whether the debut of your black satin halter with keyhole back and ruffle-front was privy to an evening of Christian conservative ideas on how women aren't biologically fit to be brain surgeons or your 3/4-sleeve wrap dress and platform peeptoes had to sit in the presence of a man in frayed jeans and flip-flops who spent what seemed like the entire evening speaking to his mother with a tone of voice just slightly too intimate for your taste, whatever the case, no matter how long, how offensive, how young or how much of a Democrat your date proves to be, the establishment of a permanent clothing association - especially with a piece you truly love - directly threatens that relationship which is most important in a single woman's daily life: her relationship with her clothes.

My gold Grecian-style shift, my green chiffon summer slip dress, even my ivory lace and mesh boyshorts -- all of these smack of one man and of one put-in-the-past-against-my-will relationship. For weeks, I couldn't even look at them. Some of them I still can't bring myself to wear. Pushed to the way-back of their color-coded sections, each item - and there were many, many more than just the three I mentioned - each item elicited a powerful memory, all of which were positive. Too positive. Too him.

This is another set of circumstances where the wealthy have a clear advantage. A lobbyist soiled your halter with his Evangelical venom? Another lobbyist tainted your DvF with his unkempt feet and Norman Bates persona? The assured but now gone love of your life escorted you hand-in-hand through Manhattan's corridors in your ivory pouf-sleeved knit mini? Throw 'em out and buy new ones. Buy better ones. Buy ones that don't have ingrained in their fibers the memories or smells of men past.

Do you honestly think Vivian could have brought herself to ever wear that red off-the-shoulder ballgown again if Edward hadn't listened to his heart, rescued her and allowed her to rescue him right back?

The answer, of course, a resounding "no."

Until I have a bank account able to facilitate regular wardrobe rotation replacements, however, I have no choice but to either pare down my ensemble options or simply adopt a "don't punish the outfit" attitude.

At present, like my politics, I fall somewhere in the middle.