the social ramble ain't restful

we're going to a Broadway show
I hope it'll be a winner
we're going to a Shakespeare play,
then out with the boss for dinner
what'll I wear, what'll I wear, what'll I wear? 

I'm going on an interview
I only need one good offer
I'm going on an interview
who knows what these guys will proffer
what'll I wear, what'll I wear, what'll I wear?

there's a barbecue at Jerry's house

I'm meeting his parents and friends
it's a barbecue at Jerry's house
it's beginning well, who knows where it ends?

what'll I wear, what'll I wear, what'll I wear?

wanting things to go ok
wanting things to come out right
I don't want to be that girl --
the one whose buttons wouldn't stay
the one whose zipper was too tight,
whose hemlines would unfurl
when she sat down, not me, I'm not that girl.

I'm the girl whose shoes are shined,
I'm the girl whose files are neat.
I'm the girl who's well-prepared
whose stock of supplies can't be beat.

I have candles in my desk drawer,
with matches, with ramen and cookies in store.
Scissors, bandaids, tape and pins you'll find
and three dictionaries - yeah, kind of a bore.
But these clothes fall apart when I wear them
with buttons that hang by a thread,
there are holes in the sleeves of the sweaters
and glue spots between the sole and the tread.

what if I became a nudist?
I'd have an all over tan!
I'd have to tone up some droopy spots
and relearn how to talk to a man.
I'd bring a sunlamp to work with me
in case of a sudden cold draft
and I wouldn't videoconference,
the clients would think I was daft.

meanwhile, tonight: curtain time doth approach!
I've stapled up the hems of my pants,
I've cleaned off my shoes with a ketchup packet
and found a charming antique brooch
to fasten the front of my jacket.

now all I need is a confident stance
till the end of the evening when there might be romance,
when it won't be so bad if my clothes fall apart...
I can throw this stuff out and make a fresh start.

I'll make friends at Nordstrom's, at Bergdorf's and Saks

No more will I order in blind desperation,

then open a package and shout

OH NOOO! No, I'll have a Lady I Call at Neiman,

a Shopper who goes through the racks,

who'll tell me if something is in or is out,

who'll track down my wants like a regular G-man

and end this wardrobe alienation.