It's the time of year that makes me drool. Drool longingly for things. Things I want to buy, and never end up buying.
No, I'm not talking about wanting cars or houses or fabulously expensive jewelry. I'm talking about clothes.
I should tell you that I'm not the clothes horse type. I don't have a closet full of clothes for every day of the year. In fact, I have a closet that consists mainly of t-shirts. I'm definitely not a fashion plate. But once the fall clothes start appearing in the stores and catalogs, I become a woman obsessed.
I am obsessed with the feel of long pants, and sumptuous sweaters. Crisp white shirts and soft denim. I page through catalogs repeatedly and read descriptions of clothes I would never wear in every day life. I go online and view the newest additions, gazing longingly at black wool trousers with an amazing drape. I check on inseam lengths (my legs are impossibly short) and find my size. I imagine what shoes I would buy with what pants, and even imagine myself at the perfect "event" for each outfit. I long for the donegal wool blazer in a moss green color (which brings out the red in my hair) and the perfect khaki pants. I have made it my mission to find the best fitting pair of jeans among the hundreds of pairs in existence (maybe not hundreds, but thousands, millions even.)
When I do find the perfect clothes, do I buy them? No. I mentally compile a list of "must-haves" and then I move on. I think the thrill is in the hunt for me. Whenever I find something I absolutely, positively must have and I buy it, it is never as wonderful in reality as it is in my head. So I go with the jeans that fit pretty well and the t-shirt that is comfortable. I stick with the casual button down shirt and khakis in size extra short. Because while I'm in love with the classic clothes at Ann Taylor, I'm much more of an Eddie Bauer kind of girl.
And I anxiously await the end of summer the next year, when they roll out the newest fall clothing and I can begin to drool all over again.