Thursday, February 14, 2008

My Very Own Wardrobe Malfunction...

The first thing you should know is that this post is completely impromptu. I have an entire list of posts I need to make (Josh, you may tease me about obsessive compulsiveness in your comment, should you [read when you] choose to do so) and this was not on that list. However, in light of today's events, I felt like it was appropriate to devote a little bit of cyberspace to yet another incident in a series of misfortunate events in the life of Amanda Lynn.

The second thing you should know is my creative juices have been a little stifled at work, so beware, this thing is a book.

The third thing you should know is that I read celebrity gossip. I admit it. I don't know why I do it and I can't make myself stop. It's trashy, pointless, and has no relevance to my life. I actually almost went on a hunger strike when CNN persisted in filling its prime time slots with stories about Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan, and their respective DUI's. For the most part, I deplore the people that the stories are about. I could not care less who they are dating, which rehab facility they checked into, or what comment they made in a public forum that made them look like they never made it past the third grade--and yet, I read.

I should probably clarify that my favorite mindless celebrity dribble to read are the best and worst dressed lists. Ask anyone I know, I love clothes and I love to shop, and let's be honest, celebs have the funds for seriously fantastic wardrobes...and I may or may not get a rise out of seeing certain uber-famous Hollywood starlets get slammed for wearing something utterly heinous. Anyway...I digress. If you have ever read celebrity gossip/best & worst dressed lists, you will know that occasionally stars will have an unexpected problem with their wardrobe, commonly known as a wardrobe malfunction.

In general, I would say that my day-to-day life is about as far from that of most celebrities as is humanly possible, with the exception, maybe, of living in a cardboard box on the side of the street. However, today, I had my own flash of what it might be like to be a celebrity in one of those awkward type, situations. Today, I had my very own public wardrobe malfunction. Okay, maybe that's a stretch to say that such an event puts today on par with a day in the life of an ill-fortuned starlet (it definitely doesn't, in case you hadn't picked up on the sarcasm infused into every syllable of this post), but it makes for a good story, so don't complain. Onward...

Most wardrobe malfunctions result in an embarrassing or inappropriate overexposure of the wearer of the misfortuned ensemble. At this point you can google images of "Wardrobe Malfunction" if you're really that curious, but I refuse to provide a link to most of the semi-to-extremely inappropriate content that such a search will reveal. Luckily, my personal wardrobe malfunction did not leave me exposed to all those around me, it did, however, make for some serious angst and embarrassment on a day that had already started out on a not-such-a-great note. So, without further adieu, here is my story.

In case you haven't seen the weather channel for the past few days, the east coast has basically turned into one big icy death trap. (see map. Note: this may or may not be the correct map for the storm we have been having, actually, I'm pretty sure it's not, but the large blue mass representing COLDNESS should be fairly indicative of the idea I'm trying to get across).

So, Virginia is a sloppy, icy mess and I was already not thrilled about the idea of going to work and having to fight for my life among the hordes of incompetent east coast drivers that would be inundating the roadways. The government had issued a two hour delay in arrival for all federal employees because of the weather, so rather than getting to the office at 7 as I usually do, I took my two hours and waited for things to thaw out, dry up, etc before heading to work. As a result, I had to park in the outer darkness of the far parking lots, mostly because I work with a bunch of crazies who will get to work early even if given a pass not to. Anyway. My parking spot was probably a grand total of about 1/2 mile from my desk (you think I'm joking, I'm not). I had gotten about 15 yards from my car when I heard a snap, and my right foot came flying out of my black, slingback heel. Not Good. I stopped to inspect that damage, and sure enough the elastic holding the two parts of the strap together had completely snapped. Great. (see shoe)

So, with nothing else to do I began schlumping/shuffling my way through the hopelessly puddled parking lot (read Ice Rink of Death) to my desk. Now one thing you have to know is that the place I work is home to a lot of employees. A LOT. This means that A LOT of people saw me very uncomfortably schlumping/shuffling while trying not to lose my shoe (ps, I was not very successful at this, and ended up with a rather wet right foot by the time it was all said and done). Particularly painful episodes included: 1.) Losing my shoe on the sidewalk while being stared down by a pack of electrical maintenance workers who kept looking at me with that "she could be hot, but what is wrong with her walk?" sort of confused, disturbed look 2.) Having to stand still while riding the escalator DOWN (this will be coming out shortly in my "List of Stupid Things Inconsiderate People Do That Drive Me Crazy" post. Yes, I was THAT girl) while soggy, angsty government employees backed up behind me wondering why the heck a perfectly healthy-looking girl like me wasn't just WALKING down the escalator like a normal person, and 3.) nearly biffing it completely while exiting the elevator on the 3RD FLOOR (yep, I'm a stair user folks, this was a big blow to my pride on a lot of levels). Anyway, like I said, great way to start the morning.

So I finally made it to my desk. Oh sweet cubicle, you have never looked so good! It was time to assess the damage and figure out how I was going to avoid more embarrassing incidents like the ones cited above. I realized in order to make it through the rest of the day I had two choices: 1.) find a way to fix my heel or 2.) put on my navy blue and white running shoes (see shoes, yes, those are actually my shoes, only mine are a good deal less white and shiny) with my black business skirt (see skirt). Knowing that this little ensemble would have most definitely landed me on Mr. Blackwell's worst dressed (insert of all time) list, I resolved to fix the broken shoe.

The situation was not good. The elastic holding the two pieces of the strap together was completely shredded (again, see shoe). I did my best to thread the existing pieces back through the buckle thingy (yes, it IS a technical term) and "tie" the shredded mess together. Guess how well that worked... I was feeling a little despondent, and wishing that I was more prepared, like a Boy Scout, or had a Boy Scout, or had a man who had been a Boy Scout...Wait, that's another post...anyway... I opened up my "miscellaneous-stuff-I-probably-will-never-need-but-keep-anyway" drawer and looked in, hoping to receive revelation, or a safety pin at the least. Passport, useless; toothbrush, no good; individual servings of pepper, umm, no; bandaid...good thought, but not quite. Then I saw them...a little family of black binder clips that I only pulled out when a paper clip just wouldn't cut it. They were black, unobtrusive, and sitting there waiting for me. It just might work.

So I took out the smallest clip, and attached it to the place where there was the most overlap between the two pieces of the strap (not too mention the tiny mass of freyed up elastic that I had hopelessly attempted to bind together). I attached the clip, folded down the silver tabs, and voila. It appeared sturdy. I took a few tentative steps around the slipping, no rubbing. Only sweet success. I had just repaired my high heel with office supplies. (see discreet binder clip fix). I am, I thought, the quintessential modern superwoman; nothing will slow me down. Yes, I had a binder clip on my heel, but it was close the floor, and actually, surprisingly unobtrusive. I even realized that I could remove the silver tabs from the binder clip, so all that was left was the black clip body holding together the straps on my heel. Granted, this wasn't until AFTER I had walked around for several hours with the silver tabs still folded down over the straps (Note: I blame the lapse in ingenuity on temporary euphoria at the prospect of not having to schlump/shuffle around the office like a hobo for the rest of the day--particularly given that I had a meeting with the individual in charge of my promotions that afternoon--you can see how it would be easy to get carried away). All in all, it was a great success. I am actually considering just leaving the binder clip as a semi-permanent fix, seeing as how I am actually quite loathe to get rid of this particular pair of shoes, despite the fact that they are guilty of sartorial high treason.

So there you have it. I must say, for my very first wardrobe malfunction, it went pretty well. I'm still not a star, and I will probably never make a best-dressed list, or even the "Most-Ingenious-in-Office-Wardrobe-Repair-Job" list. However, I must say, I am enjoying my newfound afinity for binder clips and the feeling of discovering, what I consider to be, a low-level Super Power. Eat your heart out Lilo.


Lex said...

I am so glad that you had such success with a binder clip! Congrats!

Anne said...

Wow babe! Good job with being resourceful!

KWS said...

You are truly an inspiration to so many of us starlets... to think that we can take control of our own lives and/or wardrobe malfunctions! I keep wondering why some escalators are so narrow that people cannot pass if necessary. Also I wanted to say the the ice was rough for all of us. I had to walk down a hill to my car that morning and got to a point where there was nothing to do but brave the ice. Imagine, if you will, me lowering my center of gravity with arms akimbo in order to balance as I ice surf down this hillock in my dressy brown shoes. Basically it was the best thing ever - if anyone had been watching! I had some trouble when I hit the sidewalk but thankfully for my pants made an even-keeled recovery. Thank goodness I wasn't wearing shoes like yours. For a lot of reasons.

PS I think you should marry MacGyver. Pretty sure he was a Boy Scout, if that helps make up your mind.

JD said...

wardrobe malfunctions have been worse, that's for sure, but i'm with kevin on getting hitched to macgyver

Wendy said...

I hereby stand as a witness to the brilliant MacGyveresque solution to the infamous wardrobe malfunction. My roommate is truly ingenious!