Marci and Jane have really good radar for when I'm dressed up to go on a date — or, at least, that's what I have to think, since they were full of compliments on Thursday when I came in. (And I'm glad they liked it, because I'm typing this on Friday wearing the same outfit. Oops.)
I did feel a little weird about my selection process for date clothes. To paraphrase The Waitresses: I know what boys like, I know what guys want, and that's not exactly how I normally dress. Day to day, I'm in loose black shift dresses, actual pajamas, and clompy shoes that look borderline orthopedic, without much makeup other than brow gel and lipstick. Thursday? Tiny skater skirt! Platform boots! Smoky eyes! Push-up bra!
What I call the "thinkpiece engine" — that part of my brain that, after a while, got trained to take a critical look at my own behavior — revved up, and suddenly I was all, "Hmmmm, am I being a bad feminist by wearing a short skirt to see a guy?"
lol, nope. Feminism is a sociopolitical movement that, for the most part, isn't concerned with the length of my skirt.
And, anyways, as Foodnerd said in "Submitting to a Man as a Consensual Sex Slave Doesn't Make Me Feel Like Less of a Feminist":
Whether or not I'm dressing for myself or someone else, I have a truly terrible time thrifting. I'm really bad at it and have ended up with six identical semi-novelty sweaters that I don't wear and really only bought because they're $5 and made me laugh. So I'm studying up on all the comments in "My 7 Biggest Thrift Store Fails and the Vintage-Shopping Advice I'm Following from Now On," but especially this one: