I'm a big fan of the plain white dress shirt. Tucked, untucked, buttoned up or opened at the neck. You can wear them with anything. Any necklace, any scarf, jeans, skirts, dress pants.I have a closet full of dry cleaned, lightly starched, crisp white dress shirts. They look so smart and pulled together. I love them, but I rarely wear them because inevitably whenever I wear one of my beautiful crisp white dress shirts, I'm guaranteed to slop some kind of crap all over myself.
It's very difficult to maintain a look that is smart and pulled together when the chest-ish area of your crisp white shirt is dotted with blobs of marinara sauce or what have you.I want so badly to be that pulled together, elegant lady who can wear a crisp white dress shirt and remembers to touch up her lipstick throughout the day, but instead I am the doofus who walks around with a 5 inch zig-zagged ball point pen mark on her face, sweater fuzz in her hair and a post-it note stuck to her ass all day.
I really should have taken a clue from Tuesday's incident involving me carrying on about my business for the better part of an hour before I noticed that my pants were unzipped, and known enough not to wear a white shirt yesterday for my semi-important meeting. It was the kind of meeting where you actually get introduced to new people who will probably never see you again, but will communicate with you regularly via phone and email. The visual impression you make is the one they will keep forever.
The meeting was at 1:30 and I made it all the way to 12:45 without a hint of drop or crumb. In the morning I took the teeniest lady like sips of my coffee and at lunch time ate my salmon and spinach salad so slowly and deliberately I almost didn't recognize myself. I made it through the entire pre-meeting day and the shirt remained pristine.
It was more of a splashing that occurred when I threw the empty spinach salad plate into the trash, splattering my crisp white shirt with a yellowish, oily, fishy smelling melange.
I know from experience that trying to clean such a stain is futile and will only serve to frame the stain and help announce it more prominently. I may as well just draw big arrows on my shirt pointing to it. Not to mention the fact that my meeting was less than 20 minutes away and there was no way my shirt would have time to dry and I would have to walk to my meeting through the public hallways of the building wearing a wet white shirt that you could see right through.
No way man. The stain remained. I went to my meeting.
You'd think that I would know how to handle myself in such situations. Ignore it. Tell myself they probably won't even notice the stain on my shirt and move on. Act every bit the educated, professional and accomplished woman I know that I am.
You'd think that wouldn't you.
No.
I arrived at the meeting and when I introduced myself and reached out to shake hands with the person I was meeting I noticed her eyes dip directly to the very prominent stain on my chest. I pointed to the spot with my other hand and said with sarcastic pride,
"That's a new modern art broach, I wore it special for our meeting today. If you like it I know where I can get one for you too."
Thankfully she laughed.
Hours later I discovered giant globs of spinach stuck in my teeth as well.
I am a hillbilly.
I really should have taken a clue from Tuesday's incident involving me carrying on about my business for the better part of an hour before I noticed that my pants were unzipped, and known enough not to wear a white shirt yesterday for my semi-important meeting. It was the kind of meeting where you actually get introduced to new people who will probably never see you again, but will communicate with you regularly via phone and email. The visual impression you make is the one they will keep forever.
The meeting was at 1:30 and I made it all the way to 12:45 without a hint of drop or crumb. In the morning I took the teeniest lady like sips of my coffee and at lunch time ate my salmon and spinach salad so slowly and deliberately I almost didn't recognize myself. I made it through the entire pre-meeting day and the shirt remained pristine.
It was more of a splashing that occurred when I threw the empty spinach salad plate into the trash, splattering my crisp white shirt with a yellowish, oily, fishy smelling melange.
I know from experience that trying to clean such a stain is futile and will only serve to frame the stain and help announce it more prominently. I may as well just draw big arrows on my shirt pointing to it. Not to mention the fact that my meeting was less than 20 minutes away and there was no way my shirt would have time to dry and I would have to walk to my meeting through the public hallways of the building wearing a wet white shirt that you could see right through.
No way man. The stain remained. I went to my meeting.
You'd think that I would know how to handle myself in such situations. Ignore it. Tell myself they probably won't even notice the stain on my shirt and move on. Act every bit the educated, professional and accomplished woman I know that I am.
You'd think that wouldn't you.
No.
I arrived at the meeting and when I introduced myself and reached out to shake hands with the person I was meeting I noticed her eyes dip directly to the very prominent stain on my chest. I pointed to the spot with my other hand and said with sarcastic pride,
"That's a new modern art broach, I wore it special for our meeting today. If you like it I know where I can get one for you too."
Thankfully she laughed.
Hours later I discovered giant globs of spinach stuck in my teeth as well.
I am a hillbilly.
