I forgot to mention that pretty much as soon as I had arrived in Maryland earlier this month, my parents again sat me down for the “appearances are very important” speech. Despite wearing what I thought was a stylish outfit, evidently, I had disappointed them again. And boy did I receive an earful about how, for example, my father doesn’t want my mother to dress poorly: it’s important that she look good (Why? Is she his arm candy or something?). Whatever. I know appearances are important, but please, to suggest that John is embarrassed or ashamed by how I dress is just plain annoying. It’s yet another example of how my parents simply don’t get my relationship and my marriage. Anyway, partly I think their clothing comments will continue so long as I wear jeans (they consider denim “student clothing”). After all, my father is someone who used to play tennis in a suit! Still, I was a bit curious: what about my outfit that day triggered their comments? I actually thought the embroidered jeans and delicate top were well-paired. Nope. My mother said my top was totally wrinkled in the back. Ok, fine. I guess that is a tad frumpy. But Jesus, give me a frickin’ break: I shuttled around Boston for three days, and I just got off the plane! These style people, man. No mercy!

Later that day, my mother began sifting through her closets, pulling out clothes to give me. Mind you, she and I are about 30 years apart: we have totally contrasting styles, not to mention different body types. Nonetheless, she insisted that I try on all her mommy suits and flower-print, boxy tops. I mean, come on, I underwent Pamela’s program for a few months– in the very least, I now can look at something and tell whether the cut will work on me. My mother’s stuff is ALL WRONG. I’m talkin’ no butt pockets, high elastic waists, and shoulder pads! I’m not on Dynasty, for Crissakes! She refused to listen. After wasting two hours changing into all her mommy pieces, we finally both agreed that nothing looked right on me. She then explained her logic: she thinks I’m too damn cheap to go buy myself nice clothes, so to her, the next best thing is her stuff! Disturbing, on so many levels.

Clue #2 (suggesting my style emergency) came from my grandfather, Yebbie. I was prancing around in my new shoes, which I had purchased in Providence with Grace, when Yeb asked, “Aren’t the pointed-toe shoes in style now? With the spikey heels?” Nice. Guess he didn’t like my new rounded-toe wedgies. Sigh. Gettin’ style advice from gramps (who’s 80 plus)! A bad sign indeed.

Luckily, one good thing did come from my mother’s closet. You see, I’ve searched far and wide for a decent purse. Nothing ever fits my criteria for color, pattern, AND inside organization. Lo and behold, my mother had a purse she bought two years ago and never used (tags still on!). I have to say, it’s pretty cute, and it has good sectioning. Yay. Definitely an upgrade from the $3 USD Carrefour bag I previously lugged around.

When I returned to Cali earlier this week, I decided I needed to be more proactive about this apparent style dilemma. I decided to attend the upcoming clothing swap. I loved the concept of a clothing swap, but I was wary of (and uneasy about) the nightclub venue. But, I had to go: my peeps were giving me bad vibes, you know? I had to take action. So, I dragged my friend Karen to the swap.

An unfortunate restaurant pick caused us to arrive 20 minutes late, but I still got some decent pieces: two short skirts (black and gray), a stretch top, and brown ankle boots (to replace my SH ones). Sadly, Karen left the place empty-handed. Maybe (likely) her wardrobe is more extensive than mine. Sigh. My self-improvement program continues…