I'm never going shopping again without Jessica Sterling. I know: we will get old and perhaps Jessica Sterling will die or move away or become the President of the United States, and therefore have very little time to spend helping me pick out a sweater with a suitable synthetic to natural fiber content ratio. In any event, if Jessica Sterling forsakes me, I'll just have to rely on my mother to pick things out for me at Christmas. I'll wear my bathrobe and will most likely have an assortment of floral corduroy jumpers to look forward to.
I haven't been shopping for clothes--I mean real clothes that aren't sweatpants or easy-access nursing tops--since I got pregnant with Odessa 17 months ago. These days I mostly wear:
1. A red hooded sweatshirt that belonged to the grandfather of my friend Erica's high school boyfriend. The original owner of the sweatshirt has been dead for at least ten years. Probably more.
2. One of about 10 pairs of yoga pants I have been stockpiling in the event that they (quite rationally) quit making yoga pants for women who shouldn't be wearing them in public.
3. A pair of Bryan's old running shoes. Yes, Bryan and I wear the same size shoe.
Everything else I wear is irrevocably stained with baby puke, or is all stretched out because I misguidedly wore it while I was 8 months pregnant, or is actually retrofitted maternity wear. I realize I sound like a depressed woman in the movies who eats a lot of ice cream and doesn't wear as much make up as she has in previous scenes in the movie, and definitely not as much make up as she will in the final scene of the movie. I can't do anything about this.
But today, Jessica Sterling and I went shopping for clothes. (Jessica Sterling has one of those names I can't shorten in my head, so I won't do it here.) Clothes shopping with Jessica Sterling is like shopping with your own personal Tim Gunn. She says things like "That blazer looks great on you because it masks your belly flab while accentuating your shoulders," and "That print is hideous. Put it down." I'm a big advocate of tough love.
Jessica Sterling also attracts magical savings coupons and somehow always finds a way to make the thing you want cheaper. And she's like your mom (well, not like my mom, but maybe like yours) in that she takes finding your size in something very seriously, and is willing to put things back on hangers as you try things on and discard them.
So, thank you Jessica Sterling. Thank you.