Watch Me Pull a Tuxedo Out of My…Hat—A Magical Tale

Nobody likes a bragger.
Or a holier-than-thou-cow.
Or a mime, or a scary clown. Nobody.
Am I Right?

How do we feel about magic?
We LOVE magic!

And surprises? Well…we tolerate surprises. Especially the ones we really don’t know about which are few and far between because of our control issues, but that’s another story.

Tuesday I was visited by some real life surprise tuxedo magic!
I know! Tuxedo magic.
Not to be confused with a magician in a tuxedo.
You guys—freaking tuxedo MAGIC.

Hubby and I were invited to a New Years Eve party which is as rare as a unicorn sighting but add to that the fact that it is BLACK TIE.
Ohhhhhh F.A.N.C.Y.
And completely out of our wheelhouse until they start making plaid flannel formal wear. Then we’re down for it.

Anyhow, we really like the people who invited us and we have met and actually approve of their friends (which is even rarer than a freaking unicorn—it is struck by lightning while wearing the Hope Diamond, rare), so we RSVP’d and then promptly forgot about the fact that we had to rustle up formal wear until…Tuesday.

It’s called denial. Deal with it.

Raphael’s tux was easy peasy. We rented it lock, stock, and shiny shoes in twenty minutes flat.
It was a no-brainer and he’s going to look stunning.

My outfit was going to be another story.
I fantasized about wearing the gown I was married in which isn’t a typical wedding dress, it’s a gorgeous gown that is begging for a second go-around, but that was fifteen years and ten, fifteen, twenty-ish pounds ago when my boobs resided in another zip code much farther north than they do now so I couldn’t even bring myself to try it on.

I like to avoid masochistic situations and when your Spanx tell you there’s no hope—well, you should listen.

In my imagination, (that vivid, lying scoundrel that lives inside my head), I toyed with the idea of wearing a tuxedo myself.
Not the Victor/Victoria woman in a boys tux sort of thing, no, I wanted the YSL straight from the runway, sexy-ass tuxedo Kourtney Kardashian rocked at her mother’s 60th birthday bash.
At a 90% discount. So something exactly like it but completely different.

I talked about it. I asked some people. I made some calls. There was snort-laughing and I wasn’t the one laughing so it wasn’t funny.  I decided to drop it.

As my dad used to say: “People want ice water in hell”.
Picture me standing naked and thirsty in hell begging for water, some ice, and a designer tuxedo.
Got it?
That was me the past couple of weeks—sadly misguided by an active asshole of an imagination.
We ALL know this is never going to happen.

In the midst of all this malarkey, I happened to glance across the street one day at a second-hand store. Something shiny was in the window. Something that would be perfect to wear New Years if I had the arms, legs, and body of a pipe cleaner.

Still, it stuck in my mind that a second-hand store could be my fancy wardrobe salvation.

So I waited until the last-minute, you know like you do.

Tuesday my trusty stylist and brutally honest friend Kim and I met at Wasteland.

The place smelled like hope and teen spirit and after ten minutes of pawing through dreck, Kim found the designer rack.
Little known fact: Heaven provides special, luminous spotlighting for designer racks at second-hand stores. I can’t explain it. It just does.
That spotlight led Kim directly to a black designer jacket. A tuxedo jacket. Then the matching pants. In my size you guys, I kid you NOT!

Listen. Can you hear the angels singing? (Sometimes a miracle comes with its own soundtrack.)

My heart was pounding as I raced to the dressing room fully aware of the truly miraculous nature of this find, and hoping that it wasn’t a two glass of wine and too much cheese-induced dream.

My boobs perked up. Even my Spanx were hopeful.

And it fit.
Like it was made for me. AND it was 90% cheaper than the original price. (So cheap it was FREE!) Surprise!
Even Kim, my wry, side-eye-wise-guy stylist/friend called it. Tuxedo perfection.

It was my end of the year, surprise, magical tuxedo miracle! In Studio City California for the love of God.

Note to self: If I can manifest a designer tuxedo for no money in Wasteland. Then I can manifest the “hard stuff”. I can make my own magic!

So I say dream big. Wish for a freaking designer tux to show up. Go ahead, do it! Then keep your eyes open because it’s likely to show up in the most unlikely place possible.

Happy Magical New Year and Carry on,
xox