What NOT... Part 1

Color, Texture, Pattern, and Shine

These are the essential components that define a great wardrobe.  How do I know?  From ten years of watching What Not to Wear, or WNTW.  As the name insinuates, it's a makeover show where in a nutshell:  two overly snarky New Yorkers and self-assuming fashionistas tear to shreds the wardrobes and self-esteems (in a good way) of unassuming and ambushed fashion victims by enticing them with a $5,000 Visa debit card and a trip to the Big Apple.

My fashion heroes, 
Clinton Kelly and Stacy London.

After a few days of shopping, a haircut, some makeup, and many moments of self-loathing & doubt (Did I mention the crying?), there's a big, "shut the front door" REVEAL where the 48 hour ago ugly duckling is declared a swan by the show's hosts, and my fashion mentors, Stacy London and Clinton Kelly.

But wait, that's not all!  Once home, the formerly frumpy fashion don'ts present their new looks to family and friends, several of whom initially nominated them for the show, and subsequently and  hopefully inadvertently subjected them to said self-loathing and doubt.  (I LOVE this show!)

Though the show's last ever episode aired in October, I'll always have fond Friday night memories of sprawling out on the sofa in a faded and frayed college sweatshirt complimented by polka dot flannel pajama bottoms no longer supported by any elastic (don't judge), agreeing with Stacy and Clinton's over the top banter and continuous commentary, "Butt crack is appropriate nowhere," and "Sweatpants are not a fashion food group!"

Several years ago while shopping at a local mall, I had an out of body, yet in the flesh Clinton Kelly siting.  From the corner of my eye, I  immediately recognized him (I'd know that eye roll anywhere) and enthusiastic and expectantly stared.  My emotional train of thought progressed as follows:

Excited:  Oh my God (pre-OMG), Clinton Kelly!  I love him!  I love WNTW!  I wonder why he's in town?  Wait, he can't be... Looking around in a building state of paranoia, I wondered where the cameras, and my mother, were hiding.  I assertively moved through the expanding crowd trying to find the nearest store or restroom to regroup.  Unfortunately, I was being pushed directly towards .5 of the WNTW duo and my current potential nightmare.

Spiraling:  He's not going to ambush me right here...  in the mall?  I know that he wouldn't exactly approve of my weekend uniform, worn capris yoga pants and a ridiculously (Wait, is that the yogurt?) oversized hoodie, but certainly I don't look like I need an intervention, do I?  

Panicking:  What if he bypasses the trip to New York and sends me to some sort of in-mall holding area or JAIL?  Deep in the recesses of the basement where I'm surrounded by an abnormal and creepy number of mannequin torsos that have seen better days, as well as arms and legs.

Hyperventilating:  I'll be force to befriend an inappropriately solicitous kiosk worker who's being held for making false product claims.  He'll hypnotize me Rasputin style into buying a skin care system he guarantees is made of particles excavated from the Dead Sea. (wait... WHAT?)

Some people are afraid of clowns,
I'm afraid of mutant teddy bears.

Not Breathing:  Or worse...  I'll be forced to... Build.  A.  Bear!!

With what felt like my last breath, I pushed towards a small opening in the now overly excited crowd and see it, (cue the angel choir).  A beacon of haloed hope in the form of a makeshift runway with an adjacent sign reading, "Syrens of Spring Fashion Show hosted by Clinton Kelly and sponsored by [unnamed large department store]."

The point of this off topic but highly relevant RANT?  Like a great wardrobe, there are essential components that define a winning resume. Drum roll please....    

To Be Continued