New Year's Eve: Matching Purse and Shoes (and toenails, and fingernails, and lipstick)

I blame it all on "Real Simple". I'm not sure why, but I have a horrid addiction to that magazine. Something about the fact that every month, they manage to create a 200+ page magazine all about simplifying life just fascinates me - that, and all the ads for high-end household stuff - apparently, life without Le Creuset and All-Clad is not really simple. Anyway, the December issue had a section that discussed party dresses, since the party season was upon us, and in that section, they showed a really cute little black dress by Isaac Mizrahi for Target. Fifty bucks, which was practically free by comparison to some of the other options. It had a very plain top and a short gathered skirt and a belt - sort of an Audrey Hepburn mid-century vibe to it. I saw it and thought, "Perfect for formal night!" And a couple of weeks later, I was in Target, and there it was, so I tried it on. Thank God I had my husband with me, since he insisted that I also try on the strapless black satin sheath (same designer, same price). I did not look anything like Audrey Hepburn in the dress I liked. Actually, I looked like one of my great aunts. Lovely ladies, both of them were, but definitely on the frumpy side. So I ended up with the strapless number.

I don't know if it was Real Simple, or some other magazine, that convinced me that I needed a pair of red shoes to go with it. And here again, the planets seemed to align. I anticipated a long and intense and annoying search, since I have feet that shoe manufacturers don't apparently believe actually exist - I'm a size 10-1/2 (go look. Shoes come in half sizes up to size 10, and above that, they only make whole sizes). But we were in DSW shortly after buying the dress, and I tried on a pair of red satin spike heels in size 10, just for a laugh (they were on clearance, too), and damned if they didn't fit. They were even fairly comfortable.

From there the nail polish, lipstick, and purse were merely trivial efforts. And so here I am on New Year's Eve, about four inches taller than normal, mincing down the passageways (the ship getting bigger by the minute), and cursing the ease with which those stupid shoes appeared. Maybe the devil wears Prada, but he supplies Rampage for those of us that want the torture without spending quite so much.

I look good, though. As long as I stand very still. Otherwise, the grimacing kind of takes away from the overall impression.