About a month and a half ago something mildly tragic happened: My favorite shirt was ruined.
Being the clumsy fool that I generally am, this is not the first time something of this nature has occurred. My former favorite shirt, a gorgeous cream colored sweater-like v-neck with sparkles down the front met its untimely end in the dryer (the one time I forget to pull it out to hang up) two years ago. A favorite dress of mine marinated itself in salsa that had spilled in one of my overnight bags. Many a comfy t has fallen victim to spaghetti sauce.
Note the trend. Ashley = clumsy = reason we can’t have nice shirts.
The current favorite shirt in question was a red American Eagle Long Sleeve Favorite Tee, in a size larger than my usual preference. Somehow it was roomy and comfy while hugging my curves in the right places. The vibrant red paired perfectly with my favorite turquoise jewelry and the boat-neck-esque v-neck gave it a little extra oomph. I could wear it to work with nice pants or throw it on to lounge around the house in on a lazy day.
Then one tragic night a potential suitor handed me a glass of red wine that had been clumsily poured, drips of the liquid rolling down the side. Before I could stop the inevitable, three large drops landed square in the middle of my chest. Being a little tipsy already, I made the mistake of thinking “Oh, this shirt is red, what damage could it do?” and decided to simply wash the shirt the next day.
Guess what happened.
My favorite shirt was ruined. I was way more sad about this than you could imagine. I seriously wore that thing three times a week! No amount of pre-washing and re-washing seemed to do the trick. And with the quick turnaround time of fashion at American Eagle (why I still shop at a store made for high schoolers I know not), I knew there was no hope of ever finding it again. All summer I ducked into the store at every mall trip, went out of my way to go to bigger stores with more selections, all fruitless.
Then, magically, last night when I was at the mall exchanging a few gifts from my recent birthday, I decided to use a coupon that was about to expire to get some jeans. I circled once around the store before I saw them: THE SHIRTS!! The exact shirt, in the exact color, of my beloved Favorite Shirt! I quickly grabbed two, just in case such a tragedy should ever happen again. AND THEY WERE BUY ONE GET ONE HALF OFF. This was a magic day. I even got one in blue, just to have options. I have plans to return and get a purple and perhaps a striped one as well.
Wouldn’t you know it, after pulling out my laundry and being ready to send the wine-stained favorite shirt to the Salvation Army pile (with my very last pair of size 2 jeans from a skinnier time–sigh!) I noticed the three stains had now become so dull the shirt was just wearable enough.
So. Lucky me, now I have THREE favorite shirts. RED WINE BE DAMNED. BRING IT ON.