G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S

After I had my first baby, my parents insisted that I stay inside the house for a month. I didn't really question this at the time, but I do know--especially in retrospect--that it drove me right to the brink of madness. It also severely cramped my self-declared fashion prowess. Well, maybe it was the baby who accomplished that feat. As has come to be cliche, there was little use for my closet full of silk and Marc Jacobs in those hazy first months of motherhood. If I remember correctly, I lived in those tank tops with detachable straps (and I think I remember saying--with pleasure--"look! your boob can just pop right out!") and those horrible gaucho pants that one friend has since declared my "Clare Huxtable gear." (It doesn't make sense really...except that it does...!) This configuration of variables--new mom-ness; one month of reclusiveness; at least 30 days straight of all faded black jersey-wear--amounted to the perfect storm, and the storm hit on day 31 of my new baby's life. Operation Get Out of the House Day. Truly it was epic. Or at least it seemed like it at the time. I was going to go to Safeway. I was going to take the baby and I was going to buy milk, cheese, bread, and an ungodly amount of trashy magazines. The trip had been in the planning stages since Day 15. I had talked about every aspect of it--when the best time was, pursuant to nap schedule (haha--like there was even a "schedule" then); whether I needed to take one or eight bottles of pumped milk ("just in case"); the best route to drive the .2 miles. Every aspect, that is, except wardrobe. What on earth would I wear for my first foray into The Real World. I opened my closet the night before and nothing seemed right. More importantly, nothing really fit. But then I saw it. In the back of the closet. Gold sequins, a little bit of tulle, spaghetti straps and--this was key--an empire waist. It was a dress and it was my prom dress and--my god--it was perfect. If you happened to see a woman in sequins and tulle walking the aisles of Safeway on February 18, 2006 with a baby in tow, and with the biggest smile on the face of the earth--thank yourselves for not calling (1) the police; (2) social services. It was me and I am sane. Or at least as sane as others who are allowed to walk the streets and go to Safeway. I just needed to dress up! Glamor. I needed a bit of glamour. I still do but--call it growing up or call it being pregnant with my third child--I have learned to tone it down a little bitty bit. For that perfect amount of glamor that doesn't quite put you on the "iffy" list of mental stability (a la post-VMA Britney; LaLohan; etc.), try my newest obsession: Benefit Cosmetic's "Moon Beam." You dab a little bit of this gold iridescent potion onto the corners of your eyes, or anywhere you want to look "highlighted" and--bam--instant glamor. No trip to Safeway required.