Amy Lu's View

Sometimes questions make me strangely prickly. 

I’m not sure why–I’m not a particularly private person (much to Chad’s dismay). I like talking about myself (much to Chad’s dismay). I’m not in the witness protection program. 

So it’s surprising that I didn’t get snippy when the very nice cashier at the Como Observatory recently asked me, “Where are you going to wear that?” 

I wasn’t snippy but I was flustered–Where WAS I going to wear that? 

The “that” in question was a sloth dress. Yes, a sloth dress. No, not a dress for sloths, but a dress for adult humans made with a sloth print material. (Please see the copious selfies I’ve included). 

I was immediately drawn to the dress when I spotted it. I don’t have any particular affinity with or connection to sloths (although we did see them in Costa Rica and I have an adorable stuffed sloth to commemorate that vacation which I diligently try to keep StanLee from eating) but I think most of us can agree that sloth iconography rocks. 

The dress was one of my favorites styles, made of soft fabric, machine washable, and it had pockets! The length looked good, and it seemed like it would work for our ambiguous Minnesota springs and falls. 

Yes, I considered my purchase of this dress carefully. I have an abundance of clothes, and I’m trying hard to be more thoughtful these days before adding to my collection that I already don’t have space for. I even walked around the Conservatory one more time while I pondered it. 

Did I need this dress? No. But was it a dress I could use, that was different from what I already have, that would remind me of a unique time and place? Yes. And come on, Sloths. 

So I shouldn’t have been thrown when the cashier asked me where I planned to wear the dress. I had considered that very question, and determined that it was a flexible, casual, comfortable dress that would be appropriate in many situations and environments. 

And yet, hearing the question out loud from someone else, totally discombobulated me. How to articulate to another human, in a coherent and yet succinct way, that I almost never leave my house? And while I consider working from home to be a tremendous gift, did I need to go into that? How could I explain, should I explain, that I intended to mainly wear the dress at home?

And that is probably why I find questions so challenging sometimes. Not because I’m overly defensive (or not just that) but because I overthink social interactions. I want to have the perfect answer that is informative, insightful, interesting, entertaining, accurate, and brief. 

All I needed to say was something like “Oh, I’ll wear it to work and church.” True, even if both these “places” are frequently online. Instead, I babbled about working from home which led to an even more awkward exchange about my job. 

At the risk of using the word “ironic” incorrectly (something I find quite annoying when others do it), it does seem at least a tad ironic that buying a dress featuring sloths, a popular symbol of relaxation (not saying that is zoologically accurate, I have no idea about the mental health of sloths) ended up causing me some anxiety. (Ironic, perhaps, but not unexpected). 

Now that I own the dress, and have worn the dress, I feel confident about its purpose and acquisition. My debut of the dress was to work–via an online meeting–and it received a compliment right away. #WorkWardrobeWin. 

I’m no longer questioning my sloth dress or its awesomeness, but I do have some lingering questions from my Como Observatory visit. Most notably, “How have I lived this long without ever having heard of peanut butter fruit? Does it really taste like peanut butter? If so, does it have fewer calories?”