A J Peterman soul in a Carhart life

With the right pair of flowing black evening trousers, a girl can go far.

The King of Everything is spending the night at a friend’s house. A friend who’s having a party. He’s beside himself with joy. He gets to hang out and play with his oldest friends, kids we haven’t seen since the great Housing Diaspora caused some to move out of the city, while we moved out of our old, comfortable neighborhood and into this fabulous, downtown life. I’m looking forward to reconnecting with friendly faces I haven’t seen since May, as well. And our hostess’s dad makes the Best. Beer. Ever.

And then I’m going to a super amazing corporate Christmas party. Not my company, mind you. We’re as bare-bones non-profit as you can get. Our office holiday is a pot-luck lunch in the disorganized conference room and a little Secret Santa action on the side. The kid’s all taken care of. A pair of jeans, a toothbrush, jammies and clean undies and he’s good to go.

But what am I going to wear tonight?

I have a not-so-secret wish to be a Certain Kind of Woman. I’d like to be organized. Well put together. Elegant. But then I look at my fingernails (ragged) and my wardrobe (comfortable) and my lifestyle (artsy) and I sigh in despair. I have pared down the plethora of wonderful handmedowns my mama community gifted me when we first arrived in DC, straight from a country of eternal summer and without a stitch of winter clothing to wear. But still, I haven’t got Style. Ah well. I do have a pretty good arts and crafts bin, and that makes up for a lot.

The other day, I was browsing through the J. Peterman catalogue and came across their last chance sales… I’ve never ordered something from them (too expensive) but this time, when I saw the $250 dresses on sale for $48, I knew my moment had come. The lovely couture won’t arrive in time for tonight’s gala, but that’s where the nifty pair of formal trousers comes in… those, and a vintage Ann Fontaine shirt I bought in New York ages ago when I was making money in the pre-bubble dotcomburst. And as long as I have those fabulous fancy trousers and a dramatic shirt, I can go anywhere.

And look pretty good, doing it.