After a Fashion

Your Style Avatar keeps his rapturous feet on the ground ... with the Chihuahuas

Hoodie rapture-ready
Hoodie rapture-ready (Photo by Seabrook Jones/www.juicythis.com)

ENRAPTURED The world did not end last Saturday, dammit. I was so ready for it! Despite those who said that I wouldn't be whisked up to heaven if I hadn't been saved, I chose to abide by my childhood lessons that taught me that God was a loving God, and we are all his children. That said, naturally, I was most concerned about what I'd wear. I had very little time to plan an apocalyptic trousseau. I wanted to look good, of course, because we all know that God likes us better when we're attractively dressed, hence "church clothes." Besides, if you were going to see your maker, wouldn't you want him to be impressed? Knowing how critical it would be to look heavenly upon my ascent into heaven, I tried on virtually every piece of clothing I owned, asking myself, "Is this the outfit I want to wear on Judgment Day?" And more importantly, "Does Judgment Day include a swimsuit and evening gown competition?" I considered loungewear – some silky pajama pants and a smoking jacket. I mean, if this is the outfit I'm going to wear for all eternity, I want to be comfortable. Perhaps something more versatile was in order, like that fabled day-to-evening look that you always hear about so you can be ready for anything just by changing your jewelry. Ugh, jewelry is an entire consideration in itself. Would it be redundant to wear crucifixes and crosses for the rapture? Or would that be like screaming at Jesus, "Pick me! Pick me!"? Or should I just settle on some timeless, chic, and chunky statement jewelry à la Wilma Flintstone? Decisions, decisions. Getting ready for the rapture can be absolutely grueling. Ultimately, I decided on no jewelry at all; I wanted my soul to be the only sparkly thing on me. Besides, I was very concerned about the TSA screening process in heaven. Would they confiscate my jewelry? Would I be allowed more than 3 fluid ounces of fragrance? Dare I wear Eternity by Calvin Klein, or does God frown on designer labels? What about hair extensions? So many questions. Caftans were fashionable 2,000 years ago, but the current loud prints and beaded detailing make them seem more Palm Beach, than Paradise. Sartorially, I decided to wear angelic, virginal white – a white linen shirt I'd made with insets of white rickrack, along with white jeans and sandals (huge biblical trend). My mom and sister pooh-poohed the idea of life on Earth ending, but I felt I just couldn't take any chances. I had assembled heavenly little rapture outfits for our dogs. My sister Margaret and I had long collected adorable outfits and accessories for our four Chihuahuas. We have sombreros for them, honoring their Chihuahuan heritage, but I was afraid they seemed a bit too casual for such an important event. We also had little fezzes for them (we embrace diversity). Miss Caswell, the 8-pound, 12-year-old canine matron confided to me that she'd always promised herself that when she died, she wanted to be buried in a bubblegum-pink tutu. But since I knew that she was not going to be buried at all and would spring into heaven like the dazzling presence she is, I took the tutu concept a little further and designed a complete Glinda the Good Witch ensemble for her ethereal ascent, including the scepter and tall crown. Miss Caswell's brother, Addison DeWitt (aka Hoodie), the diminutive yet curmudgeonly 5-pound, 12-year-old light of my life who is blind, deaf, toothless, and retarded, chose his own rapture outfit – a tiny little Mexican wrestler's cape with the words El Lobo in sequins on the back. He thought this would assist his flight to glory. Tavish, a 10-pound, 5-year-old bundle of adoration wanted a Batman outfit, but it was a no-go. I certainly didn't want people laughing at him on the way up and assigned him some strap-on wings and a glow-in-the-dark halo. McCoy, the wayward 12-pound, 4-year-old was the most difficult to persuade. He insisted that he would wear the same outfit he was born in – a topaz fur coat that was good enough for him in life and would be perfect for the hereafter. No amount of tears and wailing would sway him, so I finally gave in, insisting that he keep his rabies tag on just in case. The dogs and I all slept in our rapture outfits for the entire week before in the event of a minor miscalculation, so on Saturday at 6pm, we were totally jazzed. As the time came and went, I gamely tried to keep the dogs' sagging spirits up, explaining that time zones may not have been figured in. We wore our outfits that night and all the way through Sunday ... to no avail. Apparently the doomsayers were wrong. Again. But I'll be damned if I'm going to go through all that hellish preparation next time; I simply put together a permanent travel bag that held our rapture outfits and accessories – sunscreen, Dramamine, goggles, and parachutes in case things don't work out. I am ready for the next one.

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KEYWORDS FOR THIS STORY

Austin style, Rapture, God, apocalyptic trousseau, Judgment Day, Eternity by Calvin Klein, Chihuahuas, Miss Caswell, Addison DeWitt, Hoodie, Tavish, McCoy, Dramamine

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