Michelle Wilkerson
The New Wardrobe
I’m not surprised people are staring. I would stare too. I wouldn’t give a person dirty
looks, though. God, how mean can people get? Haven’t they ever seen a woman riding an
escalator in her pajamas? Probably not. You can never tell what someone is going through just
by looking at them. I kind of wonder what they think I am doing. I feel like yelling at them all, I
was in a horrible fire. There was a flood. There was an avalanche. Everything was ruined! I
had to move to Denver and start all over. Don’t you feel guilty now? Maybe they would start to
buy things for me. Tell me I’m brave. That would be a lie. I couldn’t lie. They are probably
wondering why I’m not at home shopping online. Why is it so bad to go shopping in pajamas?
I’m clothed. I’m sure I’ve seen people do it before.
Hmm. Women’s clothes. To the right. I feel like I’m in one of those bad dreams where
you’re naked walking through the middle of town. I’ve never had that dream. Who has that
dream? How did that get started?
Petites? No. Evening wear? No. Women’s Ready To Wear. Perfect. Not a whole lot of
color. All the clothes are so soft. Flattering lines. Meticulous sewing. That blazer is nice. It’s
kind of professional looking. I could pair it with a few different things. It would never go out of
style, a good investment piece. I would pay $25 for it. Let’s see the tag–$236 on sale! For
what? One jacket? That’s ridiculous. How are these clothes different from cheaper clothes?
Maybe I can find something a little bit less expensive.
What is that saleslady looking at? She probably thinks I’m just some bum. That I’m not
going to buy anything. Like she’s mad that I have dared to set my slippered foot in her precious
Saks Fifth Avenue. Well, it isn’t her Saks. Of course I’m going to buy something. I’m in my
pajamas for goodness sakes. Does she really think I’m going to spend the rest of the day in my
pajamas? I have some cash. Pardon me for spending some money in your store. I’m so sorry.
Saks Fifth Avenue was just the first store I saw when I was driving. I could have gone to WalMart. They accept you and your money no matter how you look. Next time I do something like
this, I’m going to have my own Pretty Woman scene. I would come back over to Saks Fifth
Avenue and walk through with a dozen Wal-Mart bags. Look at what you missed! No wonder
Wal-Mart is a huge, billionaire retailer. They know how to treat a woman in her pajamas. The
sales people at Wal-Mart would probably leave me alone, no questions asked. Although they
would probably follow me with a security camera. They’re probably following me with security
cameras here, too. Maybe I could tell the security guys I’m in witness protection. They would
destroy the tapes. Shut down the store. Let me shop alone, like Elvis. They would protect me.
Do they do that for people in witness protection programs?
That dress over there looks kind of nice. And inexpensive. I should try to be more
positive. More upbeat. Oprah is always saying that positive people draw more people to them.
What’s that saying? Honey draws...more flies…honey draws more flies than vinegar. Yes,
that’s it. How in the world am I supposed to be positive when I’m not, though? Of course
people would be drawn to me if I were all happy and smiley faced, but that’s not when I need
people to be nice back. I need niceness when I feel like crud. When I’m like this, not when I’m
all okay.
Aha! That baby is in pajamas, too. Well, actually one of those onesie things. How come
babies get to wear something comfy and I can’t? At what age are you not able to wear pajamas
in the store? Probably about five. When you start school. Those two things are probably
related. Then, when you’re retired, you can wear caftans and curlers to the store and nobody will
say a word. Or if they did you wouldn’t be able to hear them. Geez, the baby’s mom is not that
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Michelle Wilkerson
The New Wardrobe
much older than me, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six. It’s hard to tell with all the botox and
plastic surgery, nowadays.
Shopping. I need to shop. Focus. Okay. Nice dress. It’s all one piece. That’s good–it’s
a whole outfit by itself. One hundred and eighty-nine dollars! What is with this store? You
have to park far away, and then walk all–Oh great, here comes a saleslady.
“Hello. Welcome to Saks. My name is Angela. How can I be of service to you today?”
Maybe I could tell her I lost all of my luggage. That’s something Angela could
understand. I was flying from Paris and my bags were lost. My Prada! My Gucci! Gone
forever! As I started to sob, Angela would grab things off the rack. Oh, poor darling. And the
ball is tonight, too. Don’t worry. I’ll be your fairy godmother. She would yell to the other sales
ladies, Tulle! Lace! Satin! We have a situation! Fashionista down! Why don’t they wear
headphones, like in that one store? That way Angela wouldn’t have to yell. Darn! Which store
was that? That is going to bug me for the rest of the day. Oops, Angela is staring at me.
“Ah,” Paris would never work. I would have to affect an accent. New York? They’re
exotic and fashiony enough. New Yawk. Bad idea. “Hi, Angela. I’m Autumn. I’m looking for
a few things. Um. An outfit actually. Something that I could wear to do some shopping. I’m
really flexible. About what I wear. Hah. You’ve probably noticed that I need some help in the
fashion department.” I probably look disgusting in my baggy flannel pants, and my oversize shirt
with the bear sleeping on it. Why did I have to give her my real name? I could have picked any
name I wanted.
“What size are you, dear?” Does she really think she can tell my size just by looking me
up and down? “About a ten I would say, dear.”
Twelve. At least that’s what I am in Levi’s. I’m not going to correct her though. Just
nod and smile. Why on Earth is Angela writing down what size I am? Does she think she’s
going to have to fill out a police report? She’s writing down eye color, too! Maybe she’s a
personal shopper. I’ve heard of those. What TV show was that story about sizing on? Men’s
sizes are regulated so that a size 34 is a size 34 in any brand. But women’s sizes vary from brand
to brand and there’s no regulation. That was a good show. Conspiracy! No wonder it takes
women so much longer to shop: we have to find our size in every brand, and then find a shape,
and a good length. Guys have it so easy. Maybe I’ve lost weight. How nice of her to think I’m
a ten. I also don’t want to start our relationship on the wrong foot, by correcting her. She’ll just
be more sympathetic when I look all shy poking my head out of the dressing room, asking for a
larger size. Unless she’s one of those odd women who disapproves of other women with meat
on their bones. Even so, then she would just feel better that she was skinnier than me. Either
way, it’s win-win. She’s not overweight though, and she’s only wearing short chunky heels
instead of those horrible uppity spikes. I could tell her I just lost a bunch of weight. I had
nothing that fit except my pajamas! But I lost two hundred pounds!
“What color are you looking for today?”
“Red is my favorite color.” Angela must like red; she’s wearing that red brooch. Hey,
look at that, Angela can smile.
“Well, let’s see what we can find.” No, no. Not towards the expensive blazer area. I
checked over there already. Everything looks less expensive back this way. Well, kind of less
expensive. At least now she is taking me seriously. Or maybe she’s just challenging me. She’s
stopped in front of a cherry red silk dress. “What do you think of this? Maybe a stylish hat to
top it off?”
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Michelle Wilkerson
The New Wardrobe
“Gorgeous!” What was she thinking? That I was on my way to the Kentucky Derby?
This is why I usually don’t ask for help.
“Great! Why don’t you start with this and I’ll keep looking.”
“Sounds good!” I am not a Barbie doll, Angela. Juicy Couture. Crud. Even I know that
is some expensive brand. It has couture right in the name. Doesn’t that mean expensive? Don’t
look at the price tag. Don’t look, don’t look.
“I’ll take you over to the dressing room.” Oh, good. Let’s go down the marble runway
path thing in the middle of the store instead of just cutting through the racks.
Oh, cute guy up ahead by the glass cases. Why, oh why do I have to be in my pajamas?
Why didn’t I have the good sense to change before I left? It’s Murphy’s Law that you look bad
when you see a hot guy. My fuzzy slippers were surprisingly easy to drive in, but they just look
ridiculous now. I’m glad I have a baseball hat to cover my unwashed hair. What is he doing out
of work in the middle of the day on a Monday? What guy is in Saks at, let’s see, 10:35 in the
morning? Shouldn’t he be working? Did he get up in the middle of a meeting and say, “Oh,
darn. Look at that, would you? Ketchup. Well, I’ll be at Saks.” Then he probably stripped off
his shirt right then and there. His undershirt probably rode up, showing that nice V-shaped
muscle guys have above their pelvis. All the women probably tried to look down at their papers
while twisting their wedding rings. Wow! Get a grip! He is clearly still wearing his shirt. I
have been watching way too much TV. Too many soap operas. He’s looking. He’s smiling.
Kind of nicely, not like the stay at home socialites. What if he can tell what I’m thinking? Like
in that movie Mel Gibson did before he went nuts. Quick, look nonchalant! Distract yourself!
What is he smelling? David Beckham’s new perfume. Cologne. Whatever. I wonder what they
do with those posters of David Beckham plastered all over the place after they’re done with
them. Maybe they could donate them to a women’s shelter. That would probably be a tax write
off. Oh! I hope hot guy doesn’t think I’m some sort of battered woman who had to escape in the
middle of the night. Look! Not battered! I am perfectly emotionally stable and dateable. Smile
for the hot man as you walk by.
Nothing’s going to happen with him. When does anything ever happen? Where did
Angela go? Great, now I lost my only help. Ah, she’s standing under the sign that says fitting
room. How appropriate.
“Here’s the fitting room. There’s a button you can press if you need a different size. I’ll
check back in a few minutes.” Angela is actually smiling. Apparently, Angela is finally getting
the hang of this whole commission thing. Maybe she was just tired before. That happens.
Huh! You would think Saks could vacuum their changing rooms or take some of the
clothes away. They are charging enough for their clothes. I feel kind of like Superman. Just
turn around and walk out looking great. Chase down hot man and just stand in front of him until
he asks me out. Brandon Routh was so hot as Superman.
I don’t look so bad. Does Clinque give free makeovers or am I going to have to pay? I
could just use all the samples and give myself a makeover for free. Bad idea. Makeup samples
are like an eye infection waiting to happen. Banana Republic! That’s the name of the store
where all the salespeople wear headphones. That’s right, I’m so glad I thought of that. How
much is this dress? Four hundred dollars! If I wore it everyday for a year and a half, it would
only be a dollar a day. That wouldn’t be so bad. I should make a list of things I need. Socks. I
need socks. Oops! And a trip by the underwear section, too.
I’m also going to have to get my story together. What if someone asks? What can I tell
people? I have amnesia? I’m in the CIA; please don’t ask any questions. I just got out of jail. I
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Michelle Wilkerson
The New Wardrobe
just got out of the hospital. This whole starting over thing is difficult. Why does it seem like
everyone always wants to know your whole life story? Where are you from? Where are you
going? They’re probably just being polite. When I tried telling people my life story in the past,
they didn’t look interested. I want to just tell people, yep, I got up one morning, wanted a
change, drove as far as I could. Nothing bad happened. No family. No friends. No boyfriend.
No one to tell. No job. No school. No resume. No belongings, just a car and some money I had
saved up. No lease. No shirt, no shoes, problem. No drugs. No drinking. No idea why I did
this. No reason why I hadn’t done this before. No reason to keep going except hope. I was
given this opportunity of life, and I’m going to use it. No plans. Just change. I just did. Just do
it. Nike. Tennis shoes. I’m going to need tennis shoes if I’m ever going to go running.
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