This week, your favorite Daly Essentials author is very busy running around Manhattan taking care of a million to-do's and won't have Internet access for a few days. In her absence, she asked me to guest blog and introduce some of her loyal readers to my own madness for style.
For a light afternoon treat, I took a walk uptown past the plethora of shops along Madison Ave. Always a fan of shopping, but never a fan of the 'ghost shop' phenomena (that environment which occurs mid morning, in areas of Manhattan when most people are hard at work and only those unemployed recent grads like myself are stalking the racks) I was cautious to enter any stores. But feeling bold (perhaps because I was sporting my new peep-toe ankle booties which give me a rock n' roll illusion) I entered one of my favorite localities. (I should note my style is more prep school meets Soho, less reform school meets lower east side, but every now and then I like to mix things up). As expected, the store was as vacant as a McDonalds next door to a modeling agency, and all eyes were immediately upon me like high beams. I gave my polite, 'I don't need your help' smile, and proceeded to the sweater display. Printed cardigans in lovely 12 gauge merino lined the table like ripe strawberries, waiting to be plucked. Though I hate to disrupt a perfectly folded display, I also cannot buy something without tactile inspection.
Not yet was my hand at the collar of the first ripe sweater, when a saleswoman was on me like white on rice. "May I help you with that?" she rhetorically asked me as she snatched the wool from my hand and held it between her well manicured, lithe fingers. I smiled, but felt like old peeling wallpaper, crumbling in on myself in her shadow. I stepped quickly (and as gracefully as I could manage in brand new shoes) to the left to a rack of jersey dresses. A furtive glance to the right revealed the amazon saleswoman was distracted by a fellow employee. In my moment of peace, I desperately felt around inside a printed floral dress for a price tag. Mercy was on my side, and I was able to see the reasonable $88 in bold font on an ivory tag dangling from the inner collar. By time the superior giant returned her focus to me, I was proudly clutching the frock under my arm where she couldn't take it from me without a fight. Victory. I made my purchase and headed home to pack my new find for my upcoming honeymoon.
My own blog is www.WearingWhiteAfterLaborDay.com, come visit me and leave me some feedback if you'd like! ~Christina E.