Orange Crush

“Oh, this is nice,” my brother mused. (He often drops by room for the sole purpose of using my full(ish)-length mirror, so him taking a pause in front of my outfit choice, hung over the closet door, took me by surprise.)

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He played with the chiffon before realizing that it split into legs and was, alas, not a dress. “Just kidding. What the hell is this?”

I smiled smugly as I put on the rest of my face.

You see, I’ve always loved the concept of the jumpsuit. It’s like wearing a dress without having to worry about indecent exposure – which makes it ideal for the girl who will forever be the first (and last) on the dance floor. Plus, they’re something that other get and appreciate, but men balk at in confusion. What is this/What do I do with it/How does it come off? are the general questions that come to the male mind. (Not that I blame them.) Black would have been the safe way to go, but this unapologetic orange-red was just begging to come home with me.*

It was a man-repelling moment waiting to happen. And an epic one at that – you don’t just wear a bright coral jumpsuit to any old shin-dig.

So when my best friend invited me out to a New York City for an intimate concert at the Highline Ballroom, out came said jumpsuit and the gold-plated, spiked belt. If I’m doing my best man-repelling act, then I might as well be a literal man-repeller too, no? You can look (Is it a maxi? Pants? No, it’s… a jumpsuit!), but you can’t touch.

.   .   .

Editor’s Notes:

*Spoiler alert: The black jumpsuit also came home with me that night. It was a very happy threesome.