Can't Buy Me Style

So many of us walk through life with what I like to call "grass is greener" syndrome. We always wonder about life on the other side, what it would feel like to walk in someone else's shoes (preferably if they happen to be Jimmy Choo's) and we covet what everyone else has, or, what we've never had, without appreciating what we do have.

Now, this idea can translate into just about any conversation; the theme is present whether you're talking about sports, and it's just as relevant when you're talking about marriages, relationships, or, (tada!) my favorite topic of all: fashion.

When I was a kid, my parents didn't have a whole lot of money. We were taught to make do with what we had; wearing April's hand-me-downs was the high point of my year; whenever there was a new bag of clothes that didn't fit her anymore or that she didn't like, I got to wear them. Then I passed them along to Bernadette.

So when I went off to college, I wanted what I somehow felt "entitled" to...I wanted all the things I didn't have when I was growing up. It wasn't until later, in my late twenties, that I've realized sometimes less is more, and true style has nothing to do with the labels that are plastered all over your body. I've looked absolutely chic in a $3 Walmart dress that I wore to work (because I had a fashion emergency, and had to stop and buy a dress) with six strands of pearls around my neck that cost $2 and a cute headband I bought for a fifty cents at Forever 21. I know now that the women who live in Paradise Valley that I used to envy so much as a college kid really have pretty shallow lives; there's some things I have that they'll never, ever have; things that money just can't buy...like playing in the backyard of my Aunt's house with my baby nephew Alex in a pair of $3 flip flops, which brings me more joy than you can possibly imagine; watching Gossip Girl with my niece Angela in cute pajamas from Target that cost $7, and baking Christmas treats for my family in my Mom's kitchen, in jeans I've owned since 1998 (and still goin' strong, baby!)

So today, when I went to Scottsdale Fashion Square in a dress I bought at a thrift store for $1.00; paired with heels that have the whole gold-studded gladiator-looking vibe goin on that I bought for $13 at Forever 21, and a Marc Jacobs handbag, and a woman walked up to me and said, "Oh my God! You look amazing! Your dress is soooo pretty! Where did you get it, can I ask? I so would love to get one!"

and I replied, "Thanks! I bought it for $1.00 at a thrift store in Mesa!"

and she lifted her eyebrows...(as much as the Botox would allow her to)

wrinkled her nose...(courtesy of a Scottsdale plastic surgeon, no doubt)

turned around sharply in her Gucci heels...

and walked the other direction...


I was still pretty damn proud of my outfit. Because my dress wasn't thrown in the garbage, I was saving the environment by wearing a dress someone didn't want anymore; I was promoting sustainability. Because I had worn a $1 dress, hundreds of young women out there can learn from the example & save money in an economy where saving pennies really does matter. I washed the dress after buying it, styled it and rocked it, and if I had told the bitch from PV that I bought it at Neiman's or Bloomingdales, she would've ran like a stupid ass to go out and look for the same thing.

I truly believe with all my heart that some of the best outfits I've ever worn were hand-me-downs from April's closet...from the sexy black dress she once wore that later became my evening gown when I went to Florida on a trip; or the sweaters that kept me warm in winter when I was still playing hopscotch on the playground. The best deals we've ever found, we've found together; the $5 cutoff shorts from Abercrombie that we bought in a size 5 in high school that we wore to a college baseball game, and came home with the best tans of our lives. We laughed so much that day. And nobody knew we'd paid under $10 for our outfits.

We were having the time of our lives together.

When you're laughing, and happy, and having fun, price tags really don't matter.

That's what REAL style is all about.

And you can't put a price tag on that.