Someone posted about it online and I was curious. Looked it up. Mused aloud to Shane about it.
"That's a good idea," he said.
It's a service for people who might not like to shop, or have limited fashion sense (hand up), or just like getting stuff in the mail (me too!) where a stylist shops for you based on your budget and preferences, sends items to your house on a personalized schedule (or just as requested) and you can send it all back if you don't like any of it. Or you just pay for the things you keep--I think you get five items, a mix of outfit/accessory/outerwear.
I am a miserable shopper sometimes. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I find things I like, but sometimes I don't. My closet? Grays, browns, whites and blacks. I will wear a pair of jeans out before I buy another pair. And if my favorite cut of shirt is on sale (and only on sale), I buy a few of them (and double the gray order). And then I wear those out too.
But a stylist? On a single income? How could this be?
Shane kinda gave me the nod to try it out. (At least, that's how I interpreted it.) I get my first order early December (I opted for quarterly delivery--and I'm not obligated to keep a thing or stay on that schedule).
"What style did you pick?" he asked, when I told him I'll get my first delivery soon.
"Casual Chic," I said, laughing a little. Me ... style ... because "Woods" wasn't a category. "I asked them not to send me anything frumpy."
This morning I got up, came down to make his lunch.
"Look, I drew you a heart," I said, pointing to the mustard. He had noticed some time ago that I stopped making hearts.
He laughed and commented on how it looked broken.
I went into the living room to get his old fleece jacket that I confiscated when we moved here.
"It feels (chilly)," I mentioned, putting it on, also remarking on how I know how much he loves this look from last year. And the year before.
"Wouldn't it be funny if they sent you an oversized gray fleece jacket?" he suggested.
I would have woken the kids up with my laugh if I didn't stifle it. He cracks me up.
(Side note: I met Shane in November 1995 when we had our first date. I love him.)