I recall buying a pair of Jordache "black" jeans in the 1980s. Wore them to a family reunion with a beautiful blue velvet jacket and white silk shirt. My sister had booked a high-end restaurant.
We were meeting our new sister-in-law for the first time. By the time we got to dinner, my hands looked like I had rubbed them in soot and the leather upholstery in my car was ruined. I was heartsick and did not know how to explain what had happened to turn my hands black and I was 56 miles from the nearest shopping center and my hotel. My sister who never has a chipped nail nor a hair out of place called me a klutz, of course.
I hate meeting people for the first time and not wearing something nice but I hate more for them to think that I bought something special just to meet them because it makes me appear anxious and inferior. It was a total embarrasment.
Tossed the jeans.
Karma. Three years later that same SIL wore a beautiful black silk dress to our father's funeral. It was a long drive and she was touching up her make-up in the car when brother hit a pot hole and she spilled make-up on it,
She did not have to ask, I told her to wear my beige silk-linen blazer over it to hide it. Yes! Things happen, don't they, to make all things equal. Just wished it had been my sister who spilled the makeup. Hee hee. She knows I love her and hate her all at the same time.