Why you should never wear orange underwear ever.

One day my friend Michelle and I visited a mall and inside that mall I espied a Free People store, which I had never been to in person. I had only lusted over its carefree neo-hippie styles online, and enjoyed articles comparing John Mayer to its models.

And now, here, live, in front of me:  The store itself.

My pulse quickened. I flitted gleefully from rack to rack checking price tags. They were so high that suddenly things like a $118 decorative scarf seemed cheap by comparison.

And the I saw it: A black shift mini-dress with flouncy sleeves. One of those dresses that is more than a shirt but not quite a tunic, with a 60s vibe. Something Nicole Richie might pull off, or Kate Hudson. Or, I thought, why not me? Why couldn’t I pull off an awesome flower-child dress marketed to 20-somethings?

free people

“I would probably look just like this in the dress maybe,” I thought.

I grabbed it and headed to the dressing room.

I pulled it over my head. “Weird,” I thought. “There are like six armholes in this thing.”

Without even getting it on completely I could tell that the dress was so small my daughter’s American Girl Doll would have found it snug.

It also seemed off, somehow. Like, one of my arms was still inside the dress and an empty sleeve was just sort of dangling there, unused.

“This dress sucks,” I thought at it, angrily. “I want it off right now.”

I bent over to do the swift tug-of-the-zipperless-dress-over-one’s-head-in-a-single-graceful-move that only occasionally throws my back out.

This is when I discovered the true nature of the too-small dress. It was actually two garments in one. The outer layer was black velvet with lots and lots of sheer burnout designs in it. And by sheer, I mean completely see-through. Under it was an opaque slip.

My limbs were all mixed up in all of the possible arm and leg openings at once. I may have been wearing a Free People dress, but I was not a Free Person.

The dress would not reverse.

I shuffled over to the curtain and peered out. “Psst, Michelle!” I stage whispered. “I need help!”

“What do you need?”

“Just get one of the sales ladies.”

I could hear Michelle having an awkward conversation with the woman. “My friend needs help in the dressing room,” Michelle said.

“Does she need another size?” the woman asked.

“I don’t know. She just said she needs help.”

I think the woman was surprised to find a pushing-50 woman stuck in a juniors sheer dress. “Um, can I help you?” she asked, clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m trapped,” I said, still hunched over. “I can’t get out.”

That was when I looked at myself upside down in the mirror and realized that the slip part was neatly tucked into my now clearly-visible-through-the-sheer-dress neon orange Hanes underwear.

We alternately pushed and pulled as I prayed she wouldn’t rip the dress so I would have to own it. I envisioned its shredded sheer overlay mocking me from a hanger in my closet. Finally, she yanked the dress up over my head, the straps of the slip digging into my cheeks. My head popped free. I stood there in my bra and orange underwear, panting.

“Do you need another size?” she asked, obviously working on commission.


She returned with a large. I bought it without even trying it on.

This is NaBloPoMo at yeah write, Day 8.

About Cindy Reed

I hate pants.
This entry was posted in First World Problems, High Fashion, I am the weakest link. Goodbye., Inappropriate Behavior, NaBloPoMo. Bookmark the permalink.

21 Responses to Why you should never wear orange underwear ever.

  1. Jesus Christ, if you need a large at that store, I’m never even going to walk past a Free People ever again. I’ll go to the other side of the street and give them the evil eye.

  2. I love the Free People aesthetic, but their clothes are made out of tissue paper sometimes. I once bought a cute crochet top from them, and one day while yawning (which caused my chest to puff out) the shirt ripped down the middle. Thank god I was by myself.

  3. Erica M says:

    Sounds like Free People sizes like Caché does. You only think you’re a small until you start trying on their stuff.

    So did the large fit?

  4. LMAO so hard that I do believe I may have snorted. May have. ;P Of course I have never, EVER done anything like this.

  5. I was busy taking pictures of ugly outfits and texting them to a friend back home and then you made me talk to a stranger. When I’m feeling sad, I think about our night at the mall because it was hilarious.

  6. Stacie says:

    It’s awesome that you had that special time to bond.

  7. I hate stores like that, where my neon underwear isn’t acceptable.

  8. Selina says:

    Frankly, I think it was brilliant that you had on orange underwear. After all, is orange not the “new” black? And better yet, the sales person had a clearer idea of where not to push or pull while extricating you out of the LBD. Having once gotten stuck in an unpaid for wedding frock (panic and subsequent sweating makes the situation WAY worse), I feel you could be starting a whole new and useful trend as to why one SHOULD wear bright coloured underpants.

  9. efader says:

    Getting stuck in a piece of clothing in a semi public place is Funny! Thanks for the hysterics I now have asthma from laughing too hard.

  10. Cris says:

    Oh my, YES! The brightly colored Hanes underwear… I bought some at the beginning of the summer and found myself coveting the one nude pair of two packages. Most of the other colors were so right or bold that I couldn’t wear them under my lighter summer clothes.

  11. likeitiz says:

    No one should ever be judgmental of orange underwear. We choose our underwear and we wear them proudly! All the Vic Secret stuff is advertising fluff! They’re not that comfy.

  12. kimpugliano says:

    My sister (who could fit in anything anywhere because I hate her) bought a dress at Kohl’s once and the check-out lady told her she got the wrong size; she needed one bigger. Beth put that sucker on right there in front of everyone over her close and it STILL wasn’t too small. I was behind her. My socks for Noah were girl socks. Bitch.

  13. Were you all sweaty with panic by the time the salesperson came to rescue you? I hate that. Er, I mean, I WOULD hate that, if it ever happened to me. Ahem.

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  16. Love this image of you in your bright orange undies trapped inside the delicate little black dress!! So funny!!

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