As it turned out, the platform shoes turned out to be a great choice for the party last night. Not only were they a sparkly gold color, they also could not have been more comfortable. I am still in awe of how much more comfortable platform shoes are than just plain high heels! Instead of looking like a lone giraffe, I was at home with a sea of other gals sporting the exact same look. We all looked like we were at try-outs to be the stilt clowns in the Barnum and Bailey Circus. In the end, I towered over G. by about 3 inches, but it proved to be of little concern.
A few years ago, G. gave me a copy of THE WORST CASE SCENARIO HANDBOOK (http://www.amazon.com/The-Worst-Case-Scenario-Survival-Handbook/dp/0811825558/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1336351524&sr=8-1) and he can attest to the fact that I like to be prepared for the worst possible outcome. Keeping this in mind, my outfit itself was plain, but I knew the temperature would plummet and I wanted to be ready. Many of you know that I work for a great company called Stella & Dot: (www.stelladot.com/brookespater) and once I had settled on an outfit which would be practical and warm, I picked out a couple of great gold pieces to match the new shoes. Lastly, in an effort to finally graduate from the “throw-a-patagonia-fleece-on-when-you-get-cold” phase of my life (which has lasted for 25 years), I bought myself a new black sweater. It’s one of those flowing, draping kinds that has no closure, hugs your body, and hangs down to just below my knees. It’s fitted in the arms, is made of a very soft cotton, and feels very stylish on.
As I descended the stairs last night, my two daughters, (mini-me #1 and mini-me #2), had a different take on my appearance. Never shy with words, Hadley inquired first, “Mummy, is that a new bathrobe?”. I hadn’t even made it to the kitchen yet and already my youngest child was insinuating that I looked more suited to spend my night sitting on the couch watching Seinfeld re-runs then to be going to a Cinco de Mayo party. Whitney’s commentary came next, and things took another turn for the worse along the road of fashion blunders. “Whitney, how do I look?” I said in an upbeat, hopeful voice. I’d pushed the bathrobe comment to the back of my mind. After all, Hadley is only five and it was a fair analysis for a child her age. Whitney, (age 9), looked me up and down, smiled, and then gave me an “I-feel-a-little-bad-for-her” deep sigh. “What’s wrong?” I asked, tilting my head a bit. “Well, mom, it’s the sweater. I mean, with the big shoes and the short pants, and then the sweater…you sort of look like you’re wearing a cape.” I daydreamed for a moment of a black Porsche waiting for me out in the garage, facing out like the bat mobile, ready to transport me to the party. “Actually…” she continued, “You look like a wizard.”
With that, she giggled, told me not to worry, I looked “just fine”, and kissed me goodbye. We were off, my sorcerer and I, and had ourselves quite a magical evening indeed.