Saturday, 1 September 2012


I don't know how we shopped before cellphones. Really, I don't. I bring mine right into the changeroom with me. I enjoy imagining the look on the salesclerk's face as she sees the clothing I wore into the changeroom come hurtling over the door, followed by the sound of rapid-fire shutter clicks. 

But aside from that, they're an indispensable fashion tool. For example: Last week, I came across the cutest little dress at the Bramalea City Centre. I'm embarrassed to tell you how cheap it was but I will say this, if you guessed $11, you'd be guessing too high. Yeah, really. I don't care if the sucker is ugly AND doesn't fit.Ten dollars? I'm buyin' it.

And yet, because I am what Scottish people call "frugal" and everyone else calls "cheap," I demurred. 
Would I really have anywhere to where this? Didn't it kind of call unwanted attention to my goat-legs? And most importantly (because in my heart of penny-pinching hearts I already knew there was no damn way I was leaving the store without that ten-dollar dress), which colour should I get it in?
Then I hit upon a brilliant solution.
I took a picture of myself in the dress, juiced it up with the Warhol-ish photo app and texted it to my daughter: "Saw dress for $10. Which colour do u think?" 

Within minutes, I had this reply: "Who cares which colour? TEN DOLLARS!" 
(If, when I was pregnant, I had sent God a list of requirements of personality traits I SIMPLY HAD TO HAVE in a daughter, she couldn't have turned out better.)
And then she added, "but definitely the pink. And please Muther: Not the hat."
"Too late!" I wrote back. "And thanks. White dress it is."
"I said pink!"
"Thanks! Luv u!"
"You're crazy. Luv u too!"

Editor's note: You've got to feel sorry for this woman's children.