After I return home, I shower, shave my legs, and let my hair air dry to ensure that the curls don’t turn too frizzy. Afterward, I spend a solid hour trying on and discarding various outfits. I finally settle on a pair of jeans, my newish pair of high-heeled boots (only a couple of seasons old and still mostly in fashion), and my dressiest blouse with a sweater wrap over it. I even add a little jewelry and a full layer of makeup, including foundation—which I promptly wash off because it makes me look like a clown. I end up with a little mascara to darken my auburn lashes, a light dusting of powder to make my freckles less visible, and a simple application of lip gloss—my usual first-date look.
In fact, everything about the way I look tonight is my usual, though I’ve spent double the amoun
