Now here is an outfit I would actually wear on a normal day. I'm calling it, "Dressing By Heart," because in the end personal style should emanate from your soul and should feel as natural as, well, singing in the shower. This is a soul outfit for me. As a matter of fact, I own a shirt much like this one, and similar jeans and jewelry. I have a bag that could substitute. The shoes--well they're still in daydream category. I'd probably just wear my black, pointy flats or black boots, even though the heels look amazing. I figure that until I a) live somewhere where other women wear heels with jeans, b) have a job that would allow me to wear jeans to the office, or c) have enough money to buy whatever shoes I want, I'll stick with flats for the simple reason that they're easier. But that's why I have this blog, right? To daydream.
Speaking of dreams.... Fairy tale weddings. Love at first sight. Someone to be with until the end. This is the stuff romantic stories are made of. It is also the subject of our next episode.
After two of Miranda's mutual friends announce their engagement after knowing each other only a few days, they proceed to plan the perfect wedding. The ladies--all but Charlotte, of course--nearly declare war on romance. Carrie wonders how two people can "know" so soon, when after months with Big, he has only just lent her his spare toothbrush. Miranda feels invisible, since the new groom had been staying in her apartment when he met his future wife. Miranda was hoping he would fall for her, not her friend. Samantha sleeps with a man she bedded 15 years ago. She comes to the conclusion that she has had sex with all of Manhattan and that she must now get married or move. Charlotte feels encouraged by the newly-engaged couple. When she meets a nice groomsman, she gets swept away by the idea of love at first sight--until the guy's father grabs her ass, and the guy defends him.
One moment sums up the entire episode. The four women are standing ready for the bouquet toss. The camera slows. The flowers glide through the air, headed straight for Carrie and the gang. Who's going to catch it? Charlotte? Carrie? Miranda? Samantha? Well, no one, as it turns out. The flowers fall on the floor in front of them. None of them go for the bouquet. Nobody wants it. It's a great moment. I laughed out loud. I wanted to jump for joy. To me, it signified that they have all realized in their own way that the fairy tale is a set-up.
I've been pretty clear about my cynicism (or at the very least healthy skepticism) about marriage (or at least weddings). It is likely impossible to have been engaged twice but never married and not feel like some part of it is just a sham. I still believe in love, of course. But I used to completely believe in every single bit of romantic fluff that crossed my path--including the fairy tale wedding and love at first sight. I still believe in the "'till the end" part. My skepticism only reaches so far. But the others? Naw. Attraction at first sight? Sure. Hope at first sight? Definitely. But not love.
And the perfect wedding? Not in the way we're taught to believe. A perfect wedding would happen on account of a couple's love together, as an expression of that love--not because of invitation designs and bridesmaids' dresses. The perfection is between the couple, and it doesn't matter if they get married on a beach, at City Hall, or in a dump yard. Before, I believed in the perfect wedding so much that I planned two before I was even sure I wanted to marry the men I was planning them with. Now, all I care about is loving the man.
Part of the wedding myth is that it brings a happily-ever-after ending. Yet, there really aren't endings in true romance. Each day sees the coming of each night, the beginning of a year sees the end of that year, but love's story doesn't end. It keeps retelling itself every day until the people part ways or die. And if a story has no ending, how can it have the perfect ending? When Carrie and Big leave the wedding, she decides that she's happy just going home with him at night and taking it day by day--even if the storybook finish isn't in sight and they're not on the big wedding bandwagon. It's as if she accepts that they're perfect for each other, and that's enough. Anyway, in the end, no one remembers the wedding. But they do remember the moments full of love. And that's what I'm here to believe in.
In an interview, the REAL Carrie, SJP, said that when you're young, grand gestures mean so much--what he got you for Valentine's Day, where he proposed. When you're older, you realize that the small gestures are what matter most. I can imagine this being true. Does he tuck your kids into bed at night? Does he field calls from your parents? Does he take out the trash? If he treats you like dirt in front of your friends, who cares what he got you for Christmas? If she says she'll love you forever but never lets you pick the movie, is that cool? Everyone has their deal-breakers, but the point is that love is a series of little moments of loving--and fighting. It isn't a fairy tale, with a tidy ending and no messes. But that doesn't mean it's not perfect. As Hank says, a perfect couple is where the two people are exactly what the other needs and wants, and they wouldn't change a thing.
For those curious readers, I am still job searching. After working in Montana and taking a month off from the depressing task of browsing Craig's List each and every day, I feel rusty. It is hard to get out of bed in the morning. If I didn't have Bela, I probably would have gone crazy by now. In a way, it's my own fault. I could be working at Panera or a coffee shop for minimum wage. At least I would be out of the house and not complaining. I could also be submitting resumes around the clock, never giving up, taking breaks only to eat and shit--like I was doing during the first few weeks of moving here. But I'm not. Instead I'm buying dog food, washing dishes, and writing. I'm lucky if I submit three or four resumes a day, and I'm getting picky. I'm looking for that illusive job that pays at least $10-13 per hour, provides health insurance and growth potential, and won't leave me wanting to kill myself at the end of the day (ie. no waitressing). It's not going well.
Maybe part of the problem is that I'm tired of jobs. I want a career. One day last month, I counted all of the jobs I've had. At 27 years old, I have held 22 jobs, most of which had very little opportunity for advancement--temp agencies, landscaping, customer service. Some did. I could probably be baking wedding cakes, teaching English, or managing an office right now. But I'm not.
So, in light of this, while I job hunt, I am also preparing to take the GRE. Who knows why. I don't know what I would study in grad school. I am hoping that six months from now, I will be able to make that decision. Until then, I may just have to waitress.
I hope you'll be back. I will.
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