People have always taken me to be a clotheshorse. There's something about my looks and/or personality that must suggest a barely curated armoire/closet/museum documenting a history of tastes and whims.

I'll never forget the time a male friend stopped by my college dorm suite and saw my closet. "But....where are all the clothes?" They're right there! But evidently, I was expected to have more.

It's a deadly combination of both frugality (sigh) and plain old pickiness that keeps my closet from bursting at the seams.

This trait has only gotten worse since moving to Baltimore:

1. I have the sort of job that requires little -to- no dressing up.
2. Not a whole lot of shopping temptation in the city.

So when an architecture-benefit event came up, I was woefully unprepared. It took a stressful, last-ditch drive out of the city to try to find something suitable. A sartorial Hail Mary pass, if you will.

The fashion gods smiled upon me this Groundhog day. For on the marked down rack (joy!) there was a perfect frock for the occasion. A black cowlneck dress, half sweaterdress, half constructed of silk. Calvin Klein had saved the day - er, evening to come.

Sharp, but not too dressy. A little interesting. And just what I wanted. Scoring my new dress was the highlight of the weekend. Turned out that the event was forgettable - but I have a great memento, hanging up in my closet.