I have a closet full of sequined tops. I have sequined tank tops, and three-quarter length sequined crewnecks, and full-length sequined dresses. And many of them have never been worn. They hang like shiny treasures in my closet, tags and all.
I know I shouldn’t buy more sequined clothing, yet I am still drawn to the shimmer. While I should be shopping for black work pants (to replace the horribly unflattering ones I wear every day), I skip the trouser section and head straight for the party dresses. Twenty minutes later, I’m convincing myself that I really need the black sleeveless sequined dress, just in case I’m invited to a New Year’s Eve wedding in the tropics. Thirty minutes later, I’m walking out of the store with a dress I don’t need while wearing pants which are hemmed with masking tape.
I should return the sequined dress but I don’t. Just owning it makes me feel like it is a possibility that I could be invited to a New Year’s Eve wedding in the tropics. So, I hang it in my closet to make me believe that my life is as fabulous as the dress. (Let’s be honest, the dress is only $39.99 worth of fabulous since I’m shopping at bargain stores in the first place, and my scale of fabulous can’t rival Savile Row.)
Sequined dresses are just one of my obsessions. The other is a bit more embarrassing: dipping sauces. I buy Duck Sauce. I buy Balsamic Dipping Oil. I buy Sweet Chili Sauce. I buy General Tso’s sauce, even though I have bottles of it in the cupboard at home. (A few years ago, I went through a General Tso’s phase where I hoarded frozen vegetables and chicken breasts and ate homemade Chinese food six nights a week. My husband had to force an intervention. Now, I still buy the sauce but I don’t bother to buy the vegetables.)
It would be fine to buy these sauces if I actually used them. But they are a bit less glamorous out of the bottle. (Balsamic dipping oil is only as good as the bread you dip it in. And lately my kitchen is only stocked with Wonder Bread.) Yet, a few days later, I’m back at the dipping oils section of the grocery store debating between the pomegranate oil infusions of rosemary or lemon.
Lately, I’ve been trying to cut back on spending. But I still find myself gravitating towards the sequins and the sauces. Deep down, I’ll always imagine myself as someone who lounges around in party dresses while dipping shrimp in pineapple-mango sauce. But in reality, I’m just a girl in sweats who eats cereal in mugs. But it’s hard to quit the dream.