I spent days, maybe even weeks, packing for my first trip to New York City. In a desperate attempt to disguise the fact that I'm from Ohio, I mixed and matched - and then remixed and matched - everything in my closet to create five days of city-worthy ensembles. After all my hard work, I left for the airport feeling great. I was ready to strut my stuff in my most daring pieces of clothing that I rarely have the chance to wear at home. I also left feeling quite proud of the fact that I had packed so meticulously and with such purpose that I didn't even have to check luggage.
At the end of sight-seeing Day 1, we were more than ready to wash the tourist off of us and get ready for our first night on the town. Dinner reservations at Pastis awaited us! I put on my new very favorite dress: an indigo Armani mini with a plunging neckline and rising hemline that left little to the imagination. With my 4-inch heels strapped on and clutch in hand, I was ready to go. But when we stepped outside our Midtown hotel, I suddenly stopped feeling fabulous and began to feel overdressed. Mixed among people in t-shirts and backpacks, jeans and shorts, tennis shoes and flip flops, I felt like a pink elephant in the middle of Times Square. I was shocked. I never expected to feel this way in the city where fashion rules - the one place in the world where I was prepared to go all out. I had to ask myself, where have all the well-dressed people gone?
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