A Vintage Robe is Making Me Question My Life

I’ve been given life advice by inanimate objects before. Ice cream serving size suggestions. Stop signs. Targeted ads. But I never thought the most poignant of the lot would be a blue-green vintage robe.

Initially, I bought the robe because I thought I’d look like hungover Cinderella in repose after a wild night out with Maleficent. But with every swish of silk and flick of faintly ruffled sleeve, an image appeared to me. A new life. A new Garbage Lady. Here’s my list of personal demands:

Say “Dahhhhhhling” more often. The more H’s, the better.

Recline on everything.

Call people Pompous Windbags. Do not apologize.

Go to brunch with Cinderella more often.

Obtain a fake long cigarette. A barbecue skewer could do just fine.

Wear vintage robes to the gym. Recline on the Stair Master.

Start calling the NYC Subway “Jeeves”. While riding, loudly utter things like, “To the Upper East Side Duane Reade, Jeeves!” and “Silly, Jeeves, always at his tricks” when the train’s delayed.

Drink champagne at the gym.

Pretend to faint anytime something doesn’t go my way.

Use the term “nincompoop” liberally and with gusto.

Take frequent breaks at work to sigh dramatically and feed myself bon bons.

Legally change first name to “Duchess”.

That should suffice for now. Any of these pointers tickle your fancy? Pray do tell.

The outfit! THE DETAILS. I nearly forgot. Here we are:

Robe of the hour: Feng Sway

Jeans: Beacon’s Closet

Sunnies: Awoke Vintage

Scarf and top: Found at estate sales in North Carolina.

Shoes: Puma Clyde. I try not to buy things that are new and not sustainably made, but these were a desperate purchase made in LA when my feet were bleeding from some poorly chosen thrifted heels. I actually wear them to work almost every day and plan to for many months/years to come, so at least they’re getting good use.