Apparently there aren’t that many corduroy skirts out this autumn. Boden had a few options, more than I wanted to spend, Patagonia had one, Garnet Hill had one. And White House Black Market had one.  Ultimately that’s what I went for, and a week ago I placed the order online.

That’s when it got a little weird. When I got the email, it said my corduroy skirt was backordered, and there’d been no indication of that on the website. In addition, even though it’d been backordered, they’d charged me for it. So I did something I never do: I called them.

This is where the amazing part starts. When I called, I got a woman named Sharon, who, when looking at my order, agreed it sounded odd. She put me on hold, called the warehouse and got nowhere, got back on the line with me where she apologized, said there wasn’t any information, but she’d contact me if there was any change.

All of this is pretty typical, right? I’ve worked customer service before, and that’s what we’d say to get off the phone. Normally we had our hands about as tied as the customer, and finding out information is hard, takes time, and we’re answering the phone all day. I didn’t expect to hear back.

Except I did. On Monday of this week, Sharon called me to let me know that she still hadn’t tracked down the reason for the weirdness, but she’d talked to her supervisor, and she thought the skirt was being quality-checked. Was there anything else she could do for me? I was too surprised to say anything other than no, and thank you.  I definitely thought that would be the last time I’d hear from her.

But no. On Wednesday I got another call from Sharon to let me know that my skirt was being shipped out that day, and I’d get tracking confirmation by the next day via e-mail. (Which I did, and the skirt will be here this weekend or early next week) (and will hopefully be in my mailbox because I hate going to the post office)

This is amazing customer service. No one does this anymore; I didn’t do this when I worked customer service, and more than anything else, no matter how the skirt works out, Sharon is the number one reason I’ll shop at White House Black Market again. That’s marketing you can’t buy.

I’ve lost a lot of weight recently on Weight Watchers – and I’ve still got a little less than 20 pounds to go – but last weekend I got to the point where the old stuff needed to go and new stuff needed to come in. So I made a spreadsheet, I labeled and categorized it, I tried everything on. I got rid of what didn’t fit and wasn’t worth altering (weeding!), I put aside clothes that still fit my style and just needed a few alterations (repair!), and I made a list of what I needed to make it complete (collection development!)

Then I went shopping at Woodbury Commons here in New York. I didn’t get everything on my list, and I got a few things that weren’t on my list (like a really cute burnt orange dress and a pair of Bally high heels that were on sale for a truly ridiculous amount), but nothing I got wouldn’t fit in with everything else.  It all worked with my color story of mostly grays and blacks, magentas, purples, and teals with the occasional orange and green. It all fit in with my lifestyle – although I have to admit I need to practice walking in 4+ inch heels more before the Ballys get too many outings – and none of them were things I can see myself looking at in six months and weeding out.

And yes, I am a total nerd.

For fun, this is what I ended up getting:

• 1 white buttondown shirt, Thomas Pink, $59 (on the list)
• 1 black and ivory striped cowlneck top, Saks Off Fifth, $20 (on the list)
• 1 purple scoopneck cashmere sweater, Barney’s Co-op, $35 (on the list)
• 1 gray pencil skirt, Ann Taylor, $40 (on the list)
• 1 black tweed pencil skirt, Ann Taylor, $40 (on the list)
• 1 burnt orange jersey dress with bell sleeves, Max Studio, $58 (impulse)
• 1 pair black patent high heels with tortoiseshell heels, Bally, $75 (impulse)

I still need: flat shoes that work with my feet, a casual-fabric skirt like denim or corduroy, t-shirts (both embellished and plain, long-sleeve and short), and a suit in gray or navy.  But what I won’t do is willynilly buy things because I desperately need x item, only to get rid of it a few months down the line because it only goes with one or two things.

In fact, I am not entirely sure when the next occasion calling for formalwear will even be, but let’s disregard those little details:

This is it for 2009, people. No more shopping until 2010.

I can always wear it to the opera in April, I suppose.