Last night I had a dream that I was supposed to be going to this big time, like, fancy dancy-style literary event. And the whole point of the thing was that I was going to meet Jonathan Franzen. We were supposed to engage in serious conversation about important stuff, stuff that is important in a dream, but is actually just a feeling, a dream feeling that has no context whatsoever, but compels the dream version of yourself to be really stressed out and full of heart-thumping anxiety and maybe even gastro-intestinal distress. You know? Right.

So, anyway, I got my hairs did and I picked out this totally lovely outfit for the event: black silk shirt with all these sexy lace bits and (this is where it gets weird) pants! And these are not just any nightmare pants, these are seriously tight nightmare pants. And I don’t like to wear pants. I would rather wear a noose. (Side note: look for noose chic to appear in spring 2012.)  These are peach-toned, shiny pants, but not only that: THEY ARE TOTALLY SHEER.

And this is weird because they are exactly like the onion skin jeans featured in another novel by another of my top shelf bourbon American writers, Gary Shteyngart’s Super Sad True Love Story. Just to add an extra layer of sartorial embarrassment it turns out I’m also wearing gigantic underpants. And a friend points out that it’s totally uncool to be wearing these underpants because not only are they visible, but they are not even the right colour. They should be nude. Oh dear. Then I spent time trying to find the correct (I don’t even know what I’m on about anymore) undergarments, but in the end Franzen encountered me anyway and he didn’t even look at my underpants or legs, so that was kind of a disappointment.

In retrospect I’m happy I was wearing extra-coverage black underpants because they are the best type of underpants and also, totally matched my bra.

I guess the moral of this story is that I probably read too many literary novels and also fashion magazines. Which is probably obvious to everyone else, but eff you, I just don’t want to hear another word about it.