All suited up, with no where to go

Buying a suit these days is not as easy as it once was - I remember the days (dear heavens, I sound like my mother) when you could casually waltz into Ann Taylor, Talbots, Nordstroms, Neimans or Sax, and request your traditional, mult-function, three piece suit: jacket, slacks, and a skirt. Preferably pencil skirt, A-line if you must, but a skirt.

I'm not interested in making a first impression in a hot pink two piece set, with a white, gauzy skirt overloaded with dancing flowers, and, wait for it.....a monkey. Yep. A monkey. The woman in Nordie's tried to convince me (did I mention, I sell clothing for a living??) that really, all us girls (what am I, a twenty year old new college grad, going out for her first $20K a year job?) are being daring. I'm not interested in daring.

I should be what is daring, and interesting to look at, captivating, all on my own. I'm doing something dreadfully wrong if I need flipping flowers and a monkey to stand out from the crowd.

The other choice, should anyone else be hot on the search for the Penultimate Interview Suit, is one that makes you look as though you were attacked, by Jos A Banks, or, worse, you were playing dress up in Daddy's closet. One of them came with a tie. Did I mention, I'm a girly girl? And I looked rediculous? I was horrified. Seventeen suits, only three of which had skirts later, I finally touch upon a passable choice; however, no blouse or "layering piece" should you be in that industry. This opens up a whole new Pandora's Box, and I must say, customer service in several of the stores I visited was non-existant. No wonder people love it when they get me. I practically provide the customer service you see on that Julia Robert's Pretty Woman shopping trip - what do I get? A woman so unhelpful, she put me in mustard yellow, and when I mentioned, I looked as though the jaundice might kill me, she replied I just wasn't "made up" properly.

For the record? There is NO makeup under the sun that is going to make me and mustard yellow ever compatible.

Finding the blasted suit is nearly an interview in and of itself- there is nothing quite like facing all your visible flaws, and finding ways to either cover them, address them, hide them, or accept them.

On the road to acceptance? I'm still smack in the middle of Denial.

I've no concept really of how little an ass I have, and how it makes everything I wear look baggy, and saggy, and well. Like I'm wearing pampers. I also figure, in an interview, the boss better be looking at something other than my as - er, top of my thighs - and if I'm sitting on it, who cares if it throws off the balance of the tulip hem? I don't. I don't look at my ass. Or lack thereof. I have a hard enough time facing my hair, which has decided that now is the perfect time to be pissy.

After four hours, several stores, one latte, and three mints and a free water later, I'm suited up, with a pink shell, with my backup Second Interview Cooler Outfit on hold, so that when it goes on sale, I can snap it up.

In case you were curious?

It's not the monkey suit.