Unfortunately, when I bought my size yesterday, I didn't try it on. Before y'all slap me on the wrist, let me explain that I tried on the size right below mine, found it to be just a hint too snug, and realized the next size up would be perfect. When i got my beloved skirt home and tried it on in front of the full-length mirror with my beige heels and a blouse, I felt totally beautiful. Then, I tried to unzip.
Nothing happened. The zipper was stuck.
Try as I might, the thing wouldn't budge, no matter how much I moved, sucked in my stomach, or fussed toward the heavens. I was home alone, and for a few panicky moments, I imagined wearing the skirt for the rest of my life. Then, I managed to wriggle it off my hips. Whew. At least I didn't have to call the fire department, right?
Upon examining my skirt, I immediately realized the problem: the zipper's teeth are somehow warped. So, I set my skirt to the side and went about my evening with the plan to visit my seamstress on James Island promptly in the morning. i had a feeling she'd fix it at very little charge. She's known for me ages - and has altered all the bridesmaids dresses I've ever worn.
But this morning, I was greeted with a rather unpleasant surprise: my seamstress is no longer in business! Her shop is gone and her number is even disconnected. I headed to Mount Pleasant with my lip poked out, wondering if my favorite consignment shop owners, or my friend Kim, would have a solution.
But this is ridiculous, i said to myself. Why don't I just get another skirt in my size at the North Charleston location? Why put more money into it and have it repaired?
So, after Brian couldn't fix the zipper during our morning coffee meeting, i gassed up the Saturn and drove to North Chuck, meeting Sarah and her sons for a harried lunch at Chick-Fil-A first. I arrived at the mall full of adrenaline and chicken, ready to remedy the problem - or so I thought, until they didn't have my size.
At customer service, after I sadly recounted my tale to the woman behind the register, she kindly offered to order me another skirt in my size and have it shipped to the store. It sounded like a splendid idea - except I don't live in North Charleston, so I wasn't sure I wanted to have it shipped there. I told her as much, and she agreed that I probably needed to go back to the West Ashley mall with my broken skirt. She put it in a bag for me and sent me on my way. I could not believe my luck.
"I finally buy a professional item of clothing - and spend decent money on it - and it breaks the second I put it on!" I lamented to Sarah and Marie on the phone. "This is a sign from the universe. I'm never moving forward in my career. I might as well dress like a disheveled hippie at a Phish concert for the rest of my life!!"
Marie and Sarah both thought I was overreacting a tad.
"Maybe I can fix it," Sarah suggested. "I'm pretty sure it's easy to replace a zipper. And they cost about eight dollars."
But at this point, I question whether it's all even worth it. Like I said to Brian on the phone, if this skirt doesn't want me, why should I want it? It's like a relationship that just isn't working out - except it's with an inanimate object!!
I suppose I'll give it one last shot at the Citadel mall and try to order my size. Or should I just take the refund and consider it a failed mission?
What would [insert name of someone other than Jesus here, since I'm pretty sure he wasn't a slave to fashion] do?
Damn :(
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