Epiphany: 'dress-for-success' ain't just for the office

Let's face it, whether we're in the city, the country or the suburbs, in a pulsating nightclub, an ESPN Zone or a local dive bar, we as females -small and large, alike- know the easiest and most reliable way to avoid having to open up our pocketbooks and pay for a drink is to put forth a flagrant display of tits and/or ass.

Not saying it's right, not saying it's wrong, just saying from what I've heard and what I've witnessed, it's about 94% effective.

And if you're a blonde with streaky, chunky highlights and a set of acrylic French tips, tack on three more percentage points.

Because of that, because there is such a predictable male effect to the cause that is scant female dress, how can I fault all those plunging metallic halter tops and low-rise dance pants enrobed women to whom I shot "don't touch me, don't touch my shoes" looks last Saturday night at K St. Lounge? When I think about it, these women were there for a set of premeditated purposes, chief among them to meet men whose lady-frame pawing would make them feel desirable and whose open wallet policies would enable the lovely feeling of their last inhibition slip-slip-slippin' away.

Now, if I had seen a pair of fur-trimmed biker boots and a bejeweled romper with cutouts and built-in balconnet bra dancing tabletop where we started the evening, I'd have just cause for the "here's what you should've worn, instead" judgmentalies. Since that wasn't the case and since HRL and I were the ones who committed the venue-inappropriate offense by wearing into the sweaty sin-pit our delicate cocktail dresses and formal overcoats, I realize now, in this moment, even though it would be more satisfying to rip these girls apart, Bebe accessory by Bebe accessory, to do so would be incredibly hypocritical. Therefore, I'll just fold my hands, smile and nod deferentially and be darn sure to have on-hand a more appropriate little number for the next time my dear friend wants to explore K St. nightlife.

In a way, the aforementioned tabletop dancer and I are more alike than most of you might think. Sure, we both throw down the same quote-making gesture whilst performing the 'running man', we both think there's no point in buying fishnets that aren't full of rhinestony goodness, but there's something beyond the obvious -- a deeper, more substantive lifestyle parallel: just like I believe a polished office look can help give me an extra professional edge, she too runs a dress-for-success operation.

Same concept, slightly different definition of "success."