One of the challenges in being rather abundant of figure is finding clothes that aren't 1) made like junk, 2) poorly fitted/executed, 3) heading into Mrs. Roper territory, 4) priced to cost the kingdom. Like most women facing this particular vexation - and I know that every woman faces some kind of wardrobe limitation, be it size-related, access to clothing, financial or whatever - over time I have cobbled together a collection of what I suppose could be called "solutions" sourced from the late, great Mode magazine, Vogue's annual Size (or whatever it's called) Issue, a lifetime of way-too-intimate knowledge of the offerings of the various mall-based purveyors of the aforementioned junk and/or expensiveness.

As a result my wardrobe is serviceable if not as pleasurable as I might like. Jeans from KMart (no, seriously), plain tees from Old Navy, intimates from Lane Bryant, sweaters and skirts from Talbots or Jones New York, odds and ends from a TJ Maxxish kind of place and the very occasional marked-down specialty item from Nordstrom make the bulk of my clothes-shopping routine. I don't go in for patterns much (dangerous Mrs. Ropertude, which even Nordstrom alarmingly enables) and fearing the Mimi effect I also avoid what I think of as "art" (i.e., embellished) clothing. A perfect outfit as far as I'm concerned more or less begins and ends with Donna Karen circa 1985.

Lately I've felt a call to be a bit more proactive in my wardrobing efforts, relying more on conscious, ordered choices and less on clearance-rack mayhem. To that end I've ditched some ill-considered higher-end purchases via Craig's List, donated other stuff to Goodwill, cut up still others for the rag bin and, while I cannot claim the kind of streamlined closet of the kind that would please Andree Putman*, I'm working on it. I've also decided to expand my sewing from tutus, rod-pocket curtains and pillows into more interesting territory - that is, sewing for myself.

Close perusal of the complete works of those What Not to Wear girls and a lifetime of pondering why exactly it is that I always look rather disreputable have led me to understand that I need to obtain the following: better underwear, more wrap blouses, three-quarter length or longer sleeves, a total absence of turtlenecks, boot cut jeans, accenuation of the waist and perhaps more in the way of twinset-type things. Some of this I think I'd like to try making myself.

Good. I've got a plan. That's something at least, right?

* "I love America, and I love American women. But there is one thing that deeply shocks me - American closets. I cannot believe one can dress well when you have so much." So said the much-esteemed Ms. Putman.