"stop buying beige"

A friend of mine suggested that I hire an image consultant. She pitched it to me with the ol' "don't take this the wrong way" line, which really means, you need some help and I'm too nice not to say you dress like a circus freak. On Friday, my own personal What Not To Wear consultant showed up at my front door. She was impeccably dressed, as she should be. She wore an adorable skirt suit in that trendy new fabric that I never would buy. She had lovely shoes. Lovely hair. Lovely accessories. I was wearing flip-flops, capri pants and a t-shirt. I think I might have taken a shower that day. I can't be sure.

We gabbed about our businesses for a long time. We figured out some good contacts for each other, passed some ideas around and figured out we knew a lot of the same people. I got the dirt on the worst dressed professional women. She told me that she's trying to get more lawyer and CPA clients because they are, um, fashionably challenged. So it's not just me. Ha!

Then we got down to the monster that lives in my closet.

Every spring and fall I spend a lot of time cleaning out my closet. So when Dr. Pretty Pants showed up, I had toned down the freakiness from the usual spectacle. Gone were the schoolmarm sun dresses. Adios to the shoes purchased in 1993. Buh-bye to the too-tight black skirts. Farewell to the 1990's oversized shirts. I thought I did pretty good. But she still had some comments. While she didn't make me cry like the woman on the show, she did point out that I have a lot of, oh god, I'm afraid to even say it!, beige. But it goes with everything! I said. I felt the need to defend my clothes, my friends, even though a few days before I stood there in my underoos cursing all of them.

She pulled out a few items, gave them the eye, and asked me, why do you have this piece? Um, my mother gave it to me..? It wasn't a question, but really an attempt to explain the long, straight navy skirt with light blue butterflies. Oh, she said with a funny face. Wait! I cried, frantically searching for her fashion approval. I can get rid of it, really! I can. She won't mind. She lives in another state. Good, she said with a stern look. It's got to go.

She pulled out another piece. A blazer from 1997. It's a cute little number that has the sweet '90s buttons. It's lavender. She gave it the once over. Change the buttons, she said, and you could keep it. Whew. That's a relief, I thought.

When she was done examining what she had to work with, I was told that we are going to work on getting more color in my closet. I think she was surprised by my lack of creative-type clothes. I explained that I worked in one drab office or another for the past 10 years. Now I'm on my own and need to develop my self-employed, creative, happy-go-lucky-but-pay-me-money, style.

She agreed to help me. I'm not too far gone, she said. She's coming back again next week when we will dive into my closet. Some painful cuts will most likely occur. She's going to measure. She's going to make me try things on. Then she's going to take me shopping. And I can't buy beige. Ever. Again. (wimper)