A Little Bit Country...

I went looking for an outfit for my brother's rehearsal dinner one night last week. By myself. I'm a weak shopper, so this was brave of me.

In a stroke of rare luck, I found exactly what I wanted on a mannequin. I stopped in front of it and stared while shoppers pushed past and around me.

"Can I help you?" a salesman in a pair of skinny black jeans asked me.

"I need something a little bit country," I told him. "This is perfect."

He clapped his hands excitedly.

"Ooooh! Halloween!"

"No," I corrected, "my brother's wedding. In Texas."

He whisked me away to a dressing room, promising me the mannequin's ensemble--a flannel western-style shirt dress with a belt around the middle--as well as "some other fun stuff to try."

He brought me back a sleeveless denim dress that poofed out at the bottom.

"This is so chic," he said. "And it's marked down from $300..."

My eyes widened.

"Chic is not really the word for me," I said politely, pointing to my sneakers.*

"Just try it!

"Fine," I grumbled.

A couple of minutes later, I opened the dressing room and waved him over.

"See," I hissed. "Un-chic."

"I see," he said solemnly.

He handed me the mannequin outfit. With the boots I had at home, I thought it would be perfect.

I told him so.

"Fabulous!" he said, "With some great makeup..."

"I only really know how to do mascara."

His face fell.

"With some great jewelry..." he tried again.

"Yes!" I agreed. "Jewelry I can do.

We high-fived and both went home happy.

*Chic is totally not the word for me. In fact, when writing this post, I first wrote "sheek." It didn't look right, so I looked it up and one of the online definitions said "if you spell 'chic' this way, you most likely have no clue what 'chic' means..." Truer words were never written.