Cosmo reasoned that you never knew when you could run into Mr. Right or someone who could advance your career. It might be while knocking on melons in the produce aisle of a grocery store or washing your unmentionables in the laundromat. So, said Cosmo, always look smashing, with full make-up and perfect hair, even if you're dressed down.
I recently ignored this advice and paid an embarrassing price.
It was Monday, after my typical 3 am start for the morning show. I was very sluggish and slow, with no plans to leave my little Shoebox. After my nap, I stayed clad in my tank top and shorts and plopped in front of my computer to work on a Sun column, a cup of yogurt and berries to fuel me. Being on the dopey side of smart, I glopped a bit of yogurt on my top. No matter, it wiped up, sort of. Did I mention I wasn't wearing a bra? It was about that time when a knock came to my door.
It was Dimitri, the condo caretaker. I opened the door slightly and peeked out, keeping my body behind the door, thinking perhaps he had a quick question to ask and then he'd be on his way.
"I'm here to service your furnace - it will just take a couple of minutes!"
What could I do? I had to let him in, doing my best to unsuccessfully hide my splotched, free-flowing, PJ-clad condition. Then I remembered what was in front of the little room that houses the furnace - piles of laundry! I skittered into the bedroom after him just in time to see him pick up a pile of my to-be-washed underwear and move it out of his way. Even thinking about it, my cheeks flame a bright red! I didn't have a chance to stop him. He seemed non-plussed but I was embarrrassed.
Dimitri isn't Mr. Right or an important business contact but it was a little bit humiliating, in a funny way, just the same. I didn't look anywhere close to my best and I have to say I've never had a relative stranger handle my underthings with such purpose. Helen Gurley Brown would be horrified.