A Pig! A Goose!
Item: Dress Color/Fabric: Green/brown/gold/purple, silk Designer: Nicole Miller Where Purchased: A sidewalk In Brooklyn Years Owned: 2
Tonight, I learned that I did not pay attention to an invitation to wedding I am going to in October. I do that a lot, apparently. I love weddings, and get very excited about them. Sometimes, I get so excited that I lose my capacity for rational thought and do such things as never mail my RSVP card, or book the hotel, or find out where the wedding is. Or pay attention to whether the event is casual or formal.
This dress I have worn now to two weddings. I found it in the happiest of circumstances; a sidewalk sale! Nate and I and our friend Kevin were walking around Brooklyn campaigning for our wonderful mutual friend Bob. It was a lovely day, and stuffing mailboxes was quite enjoyable and all, but there were sidewalk sales everywhere. I am almost positive that had I been there with no obligations it may have been one of my greatest shopping days of all time. Once or twice, something caught my eye and I had to stop and look. I was physically unable to do anything else. Sometimes I cannot control it.
Once of those times was when I saw this dress. I didn’t even have any money, because I was not supposed to be shopping, and I had to borrow some from Kevin. But I just had to have the dress. The lovely girl selling it had never even worn it. It was pristine, and a mere $20. I know that seems like a lot to spend at a yard sale, but we had a version of this dress at Next, and I knew the price. It was a steal!
I know that I could have found multiple amazing pieces at that sale. I didn’t have the time to look, or any additional funds. It was just not meant to be…
The first time I wore the dress was to a wedding I went to with my beautiful friend Lizzie. Lizzie’s friends were the ones getting married, and I had never been to a wedding where I didn’t know anyone before. But we had a great time! My unique crazy dancing is especially fun when I don’t know anyone. I loved wearing this dress, and felt confident and put together. And hanging out with Lizzie is always wonderful!
I immediately thought of this dress last year when I was invited to the wedding of one of my favorite coworkers, Billy, and his lovely fiance, Angel. It was in the early fall, and outside. I thought this dress was a lovely autumnal shade, and the pattern seemed to make it a little more causal than some of my cocktail dresses, not too fancy to wear outside in a park. Plus, it already had a successful wedding under its belt! I planned to wear it with sensible shoes with a nice thick heel for walking in grass. I felt very practical- I thought it was a no fail ensemble!
I was very, very wrong. This would be one of those times that I did not pay attention to the wedding invitation. Or the weather. I cannot stand it when I make a poor weather related fashion choice. It makes me feel like one of those girls that where shorts and flip flops to the mall in February when there is a foot of snow on the ground. Shudder.
The day of the wedding, it was windy, and cold. I did not realize this until it was already too late. All I had bothered to do was look out my window, see brilliant sunshine, and assume it would be a warm fall day. I brought with me was a pashmina to cover my poor bare arms, and figured it would be warm enough. Wrong.
Since Nate was in India, I went to the wedding with my amazing friend Annie, who also wore an adorable dress.
And then we found out that entire wedding was outside. For some reason I had thought that the reception would be in a building, a legion hall or something. Wrong again! This was a relaxed, super casual, barbecue style wedding. A pig roast, no less!
I felt ridiculous, completely overdressed, and freezing cold to boot. After the ceremony, which was on the water and so heartfelt and beautiful that I will never forget it, Annie and I warmed up in her car, and discussed leaving to change and then come back. But in the end we decided to stick it out.
What do you do when you are a walking faux pas? All you can do is be as confident as possible, smile a lot, and dance to generate as much body heat as possible. And so I did. I ended up tying the pashimina around my shoulders instead of letting it drape gracefully, and then I just pretended that my outfit was divine.
By the time the pig was brought out, I realized that the percentage of people who cared about what I was wearing was in fact very small. It was just me, and maybe one or two bitter people who enjoy making fun of everyone. Family, and love, and joy were all that really mattered, and those were overly abundant at that celebration.
And afterwards, Annie and I and our friend Maria sang karaoke and drank wine and had a wonderful time. It ended up being a spectacular day!
I hope you won’t hold my poor judgment against this dress. I really love it! I’m also considering it for the October wedding. Is it awful to wear the same dress to three weddings? That might be a faux pas on its own…
**I love this dress, and it’s not like anything else I own. I’m keeping it for a while!
Where The Heart Is.
Item: Trousers Color/Fabric: Grey, polyester/viscose Designer: Cartonnier Where Purchased: Anthropologie Years Owned: Less than one
Whew. Another exhausting evening! Last night it was due to watching the Emmy Awards. Tonight it is from mannequin wrangling.
I just spent the last 30 minutes dressing Trixie, undressing Trixie, trying to find a pole for her to balance on, propping her on a trunk, on a chair, on the railing of my stairs. Finally, I had the brilliant idea to hang her! That, also, took me more than one attempt, and then, presto! The trousers finally looked presentable.
The troubles were numerous. First of all, Trixie has no hips, butt, or legs. And I certainly do. So items that fit my lower body tend to look silly on Trixie. Two- these trousers are of the paper bag variety. This means that they are a little harem-esque. And that means that the rise is long, and slouchy. Or, to quote one of my most favorite tv shows, “Plenty of room in Kevin Arnold’s crotch!!”
I am a fan of this look, when it is done right. Done right, it is very 1940’s, and they make me feel like Katherine Hepburn. And that is always a good thing! Done wrong, and it is not unlike wearing a saggy diaper. And that is always a bad thing!
So I had the hardest time photographing them. I think this picture is the best I could do. Please note; my mama cat was so very curious about this new incarnation of Trixie. She meowed at her for many minutes…
And that was what you call a very long intro…
Maybe I am procrastinating. This is a hard post for me to write.
Tonight, my friend Angelica reminded me that she had seen the blouse I wrote about this morning recently. I thought for a few moments about when that might have been, and then I remembered. It was at an event for my beloved Center (The Center For Performing Arts At Rhinebeck- centerforperformingarts.org/ ). And I knew that I had to write about it.
I could have chosen, really, almost any single piece in my wardrobe in connection with the Center. I think almost everything I own has either been worn to a show, worn in a show, or worn to rehearsal for a show. But I chose these trousers because the event I wore them to is a great example of why I love the Center so dearly.
We went to a performance of A Midsummer’s Night Dream,one of my favorite Shakespeare plays. I was excited to see this version, starring so many of my very talented friends, and set in the 1930’s. And I wasn’t disappointed! I was surprised that it translated so perfectly to the 30’s era, and astounded by the performers, all of them, but especially the children.
After the show, there was a little party in honor of Volunteer Week. Food and wine and gratitude were abundant, and I felt so fortunate to be a part of such a supportive family.
I know that most of you know what has happened to the Center since Hurricane Irene. And if you don’t, this is a great, though shocking, article that came out last weekend. Be sure to watch the video- it is staggering.
poughkeepsiejournal.com/article/20110917/NEWS01/109170334/Rhinebeck-s-Center-Performing-Arts-shows-will-go-despite-flooding?odyssey=tab|topnews|text|PoughkeepsieJournal.com
I can’t really describe what the Center means to me. It just never felt like home to me here before I found it. And it’s hard for me living in New York, being so far away from my family. The Center has provided me with some of the best friends I’ve ever known. It’s given me opportunity for creative growth and nourished me artistically.
Before I moved here, when I was terrified at the prospect of moving to a far away place, a friend told me that when I lived here I could go see a matinee once a month on Broadway. I thrilled at the idea of it! That turned out to be economically unfeasible, but once I became involved with the Center, my theater world opened in a way I never thought would be possible. So much art has filled my life because of the Center. I’ve seen and been a part of so many shows that I had never seen or knew anything about. And along the way I’ve laughed a lot, cried a river of tears, grown in so many ways, conquered challenges I never thought I could, and had endless amounts of fun. It’s been wonderful and difficult and magical.
And I know that it will be again! Shows and rehearsals are still going on, just in different places. It’s hard to keep a good thing down- we will come back better then ever! The Center is loved by too many people. We will come together and heal it.
That I know.
Well. What is less certain is if I should keep these trousers. Nate hates them. Hates. A lot. But I don’t…
**I’m still torn about these trousers. The votes are divided, like my heart. I could use more input!
I Like The Way You Move.
Item: Cape-ish, tunic-ish Blouse Color/Fabric: Lavender, cotton Designer: Elizabeth and James Where Purchased: Next Boutique Years Owned: One
Well, I had every intention of doing this last night. But I simply ran out of steam. I haven’t done any morning writing in a very long time. I am not what one might call “A Morning Person.” Even after my mandatory mug of espresso, I am still feeling bleary eyed and cranky.
I’m still going to try to do this, though…
So I did actually wear this blouse yesterday. I had to work at Next Boutique and ran out of time for choosing an outfit. To save time, I decided to think of my all-time favorite outfit, and just wear that. This popped into my mind instantly.
I bought this almost exactly a year ago at Next. It was something that had been on the sale rack, but even at 75% off still seemed too expensive to me. I remember working one weekend, looking at it, and writing it off. But I loved the color.And then I thought about it constantly. I could not get it out of my mind. If it’s still there when I work next week, I thought, I’m trying it on. After a week, I was officially obsessed.
And to my relief, we found each other. And it was love at first try-on.
A little side note. Many people don’t realize this, but Elizabeth and James is a label designed by the Olsen Twins. I really love it, especially the blazers, the variety of textures, and the crazy proportions. Yes, it’s really pricey, and sometimes I do have a little voice in my head whispering, “You’re wearing something designed by Michelle Tanner.” Anyway.
I love the floatiness of this, how it sort of swallows up my shape, but is sheer enough to let just a glimpse back through. It’s something that looks questionable on a hanger, and then changes dramatically on a body. It needs movement, and it transforms. Plus, it has pockets!
I nicknamed this The Cape. No, it isn’t really I cape. But the shape of it and the way it moves reminds me of one. I imagined that if I ever became a crime-fighting superhero, I would wear something like this, and not an actual cape.
I thrilled at the prospect of wearing this in Spain. The right occasion presented itself in Barcelona. We were staying in this amazing, rock star hotel, and like a true rock star, I had three costume changes that day. (You can read about the other two here.)
Last year, when we were there, Spain was having serious economic woes. The unemployment rate was ridiculously high, and petty crime was rampant like never before. Everyone warned us about getting pick pocketed. I was a little concerned, before we left, and packed things like a practical cross-body bag I could zip underneath a jacket and such. But once we were there, it didn’t really cross my mind.
After a crazy, crazy afternoon in Barcelona, we decided to hit the town. I wanted to be stylish. And so, The Cape!
I wore it over a little black cashmere dress, with black tights, my favorite faux-lizard booties, and lots of necklaces.
We entered the Barcelona night.
Walking down La Rambla, a bustling pedestrian boulevard lined with cafes and restaurants, filled with street performers and peddlers, I felt like a bit of a target. La Rambla is a notorious spot for pickpockets, and this was the only occasion I ever really worried about it. It turns out that I doubted the crime-fighting capabilities of my Cape after all, and just wanted to find a restaurant and get inside.
My husband can be very picky sometimes. Utterly famished, I would have eaten anywhere. But he was determined to find the very best food with the largest portions and the lowest price in all of Barcelona. So we walked for a long time, my eyes ever searching for someone waiting to jump out of the shadows and grab us.
Which never happened. Somehow, we ended up at a restaurant very close to our hotel, and wow, what a meal! We must have eaten for two hours. I can’t remember everything we ate. There were french fries with an egg on top, little crostinis with tomatoes and olive oil, a goat cheese salad, whole baby squid which we actually ate and sort of enjoyed, chicken, chocolate fondue with fruit, cava, salmon, and olives of course. Among others. I wish I could remember it all. It was A Feast For The Ages.
Walking back, I felt much less trepidation, being highly sedated with food and cava. I could finally enjoy the city at night. With the sparkling lights everywhere, and the Gaudi archetecture illuminated, it was like walking through a twisted fairy tale. Beautiful.
I want to go back to that elusive, mysterious city. And soon.
I love The Cape. I am interested to know your opinions, but have to say that if you hate it, I may have to keep it anyway. I believe we were destined to be together.
**I know I have been waiting for more feedback on most newer pieces, but this, I love. So much. It is staying no matter what!
Of Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax
Item: Blouse Color/Fabric: Fuchsia, silk Designer: Elie Tahari Where Purchased: Last Call Neiman Marcus Years Owned: One
First of all, a very heartfelt thank you to everyone who gave me such kind words about coming back last night. I am so very grateful for your support!As a few dear, wise old friends noted, I really am happiest when I am writing here. And so I shall!
Plus, I do have a highly urgent need for a huge closet clean out, and I will have to be ruthless like never before. So I am counting on you to help me!
This blouse is a another recent addition to my collection of clothing. It is a perfect example of what I like to call “The Rescue.” The Rescue is one of my most favorite types of shopping. Basically, it is when an item is damaged in a way that is small enough to not ruin it, but big enough to call for an astounding discount. My favorite place to exercise The Rescue technique is at the Woodbury Common Last Call Neiman Marcus. They have a Final Clearance rack where clothing is so discounted, they are practically giving them away. Some of my most beloved garments have been Rescued from that rack, things that needed maybe a few buttons, a little seam sewn, a belt added. I find that when I spend the time in a minor repair, I bond with the piece that much more. I love The Rescue Technique!
This blouse was almost free. And it really didn’t need a single repair. It just had a few tiny threads exposed from the bead work. It was so minor I didn’t even bother to fix it- it’s not noticeable at all. And the beads are just so lovely that I had to buy it. It has these amazing vintage rhinestones that I adore:
Anyway, I had never worn it before, when I decided to take it on a little trip to California in May. Carrying out the theme I unconsciously chose last night, we spent a night on The Queen Mary, an amazing ship from the 30’s that has been turned into a hotel, reportedly one of the most haunted hotels in America.
I was so excited to stay there. The ship has retained many original features, and is literally like sleeping in a time machine. It has a wonderful history, from celebrities and opulence to World War 2. Plus, it looks a whole lot like the Titanic! But really I was hoping to see some ghosts.
And so we took the Haunted Encounters tour. We were lead through the most “haunted” areas of the ship and encouraged to take pictures in the hopes that the ghosts will pop out in the images. It was all very creepy, especially when we got to enter a room that is apparently so fraught with paranormal activity that they no longer allow guest to stay there. It was stark and definitely frightening, but we saw no ghosts.
After the tour, we thought we would try our own hand at ghost hunting, and headed to the lounge, also reported to be highly ghost filled.
We found nothing except delicious hummus, cheese, and fruit, and a few cocktails. Oh, and a very intoxicated man who really liked to talk. I guess he may have been a ghost- it’s hard to know these things… And here I am:
Later, that night, after dinner and complimentary champagne, it seemed like a good idea to have one more go at finding a true ghost. So we went back down to the Haunted Stateroom, deep in the belly of the ship. It was locked of course, but there was a ventilation grate on the door that was a little bent.
“I’m going to put my hand in there!” I told Nate excitedly.
He just laughed at me. But I was determined.
Slowly, I crouched, and, holding my breath, put a few fingers through the grate.My heart began to pound, as I leaned forward to put an ear on the door. A few seconds passed. Then- a bang!
I jumped, pulled my hand from the door, grabbed Nate, and got out of there as fast as possible.
It turns out that hearing a ghost may in fact be scary enough. I no longer really feel the need to see one.
Haunted or not, we loved our stay on the Queen Mary. Without a doubt, a highly unique experience.
The blouse, though, I’m not so sure of. I love it on Trixie, and I loved wearing it. But I am not fond of the picture of me wearing it. It seems too bare. As someone who is bosomly challenged, I do not often feel over exposed in that area. Maybe it’s just the picture? Maybe I just look bloated from too much vacation food? Maybe it needs a cami underneath? Would that neckline be ruined with a cami? Help!
**Too new, again, to decide just now. Let me know what you think!
Bring Out Your Dead!
Item: Blouse Color/Fabric: Cream/silver, silk/metal Designer: Hannah Jo Where Purchased: Next Boutique Years Owned: Less Than One
Why, hello there!
Yes, I know it’s been far too long.
No, I do not want to talk about it. Tonight.
I will tell you that I started out this evening intending to publish a poll, asking if anyone is still interested in reading this. I felt rather good about it. It was to be published at midnight.
And so I told my husband.
He just looked at me.
After a moment, he shook his head.
“What?” I asked, bewildered.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” He asked.
I followed this with some staring of my own. Epic staring.
Then I got it.
It doesn’t matter if there is no one left who will read this. It is the act of writing that sustains my soul, which has been starving and suffering more than I can say.
So. Here I am!
I have lots of new stories to tell. And lots of new clothes that go with them!
Like this blouse. I would consider this new. Even though I can’t even remember when I bought it… I think it was January-ish, at the Winter Sale at Next Boutique. Even though I haven’t even owned this for a year, I’ve worn this on more than one occasion already. But the very best one was in the spring.
Here was the plan. Nate and I would have a leisurely Sunday morning, and then head to New York City on swift, relaxing Metro North. Once we arrived, we would wander around in the fresh green magic of spring, have a lovely meal, which we had already paid for via the internet, and then go down to the village and take in a spooky show called Play Dead.
What happened, then, was this:
We woke up late. Ok, I woke up late. Of course, I had already planned my outfit, which consisted of this blouse, jeans, and knee high grey suede boots. And so I was ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!
“Let’s go!” I say to Nate joyously, thinking that we could still make our train.
“Did you print our payment confirmation for the dinner yesterday at the library, like I asked?” he responded.
Oops…
Well, no worry. We just head to the library then.
And… It doesn’t open for two hours.
Now Nate is very angry. We missed the train we had wanted to take.
“I’m driving to the city!” He exclaims sullenly.
I sit silent and sheepish for the entire two hours, desperately searching on my phone for a library on our way that’s open on a Sunday.
No luck. We make it all the way to the city, where traffic is absolutely horrible. In very typical Nate style, he decides to take a short cut.
We get a little lost somewhere in Harlem.
We are fighting like champions.
I start wishing we had just stayed home.
At one point, we call the restaurant and ask if we can show them our confirmation on our phone, explaining that our printer died and we just drove two hours to get here.
Nope, they say. You have to find a printer.
Now I have decided that I will never speak to Nate again in my life, and I believe that he was perfectly alright with that plan.
We make it to the New York Public Library 20 minutes before they close, are able to print our receipt, and make it to the restaurant 5 minutes late.
Our dinner included a bottle of wine, and so during the course of our meal I decided to start talking to Nate again. It ended up being a very lovely meal, worth every bit of trouble. Well, maybe not every bit, but most bits for sure.
We headed to the show as a loving couple once more. Play Dead was a show about seances by Teller of Penn and Teller fame and held in a tiny, quite terrifying little theater. Basically, it shows the audience tricks used to convince audience that the dead is speaking. And even though the audience knows what they’re seeing is faked, they are still completely horrified.
There was a great deal of audience participation. At one point, Nate whispered to me that the leader was staring at me. And a few minutes later, we figure out why.
He asks Nate how tall he is. And then he asks me if he can borrow Nate.
“And by borrow, I mean have. You won’t be getting him back.”
I laugh nervously. Of course this is an elaborate hoax. No harm will come to my husband. I know this implicitly. And yet, my heart began to pound. What do I say? Will I seem callus if I don’t beg him not to take Nate?
In the end I think I just said, “Ok.”
Nate gives me his wallet, and heads to the stage. I am completely nauseous. I can’t believe he has given me his worldly belongings! This tiny little act makes my entire body break out in a cold sweat. Does he really think that there is a chance he will never come back?
I watch as the man places Nate’s hat and shoes into a box, and helps Nate get into a metal tub. Then he pours acid into the tub.
It’s not really acid, I tell myself. But- it sure smokes like acid!
Then the tub is flipped over and a Nate-sized skeleton tumbles out. I laugh weakly with everyone else.
But a tear comes to my eye unbidden. I know that the skeleton is not Nate’s. How can it be? But then I also think of movies such as From Dusk Til Dawn. What if I just witnessed some maniac murder my husband? I can’t lie- I became really and truly frightened. No one can say that I have an inactive imagination…
For 20 minutes I sat in that dark theater without my husband, pulse pounding, continually telling myself not to be absurd, of course it isn’t real! Of course.
Then, miraculously, Nate was pulled from the world of the dead, and returned to the flesh!
The relief was sweet. But I did have to laugh at my self. A lot.
The show was such fun, and Nate had a great time. I won’t share his secrets, but he loved it. And so what began as a nightmare ended up being an unforgettable night, after all.
And I vowed never to take my wonderful husband for granted again. A vow I am still trying very hard to keep…
Well. About the blouse. I do love it so, but the metal work is just a little too heavy for the delicate chiffon. That is my only criticism. I find I get complements from complete strangers every time I wear it, which is a great indicator of the quality of a piece, in my mind.
What do you think?
**This is too new for me to make a decision, so perhaps I can get more votes on it.
Penny For Your Thoughts!
Ok. I realize that many of your are puzzled at this moment. Actually, it is my sincerest hope that most, if not all, of you are puzzled.
Because there are so many reasons to be puzzled.
First of all, I am back. After a long, seemingly endless hiatus, suddenly, here I am!
Second of all, this is not my usual format. There is no Trixie, there is no garment, there is just…hmmm.
Third. There is a picture of high heeled sneakers on this post.
Puzzlement ensues!
Let me explain, in no particular order. I was waiting to feel inspired again. I had a blouse with a story, fitted on Trixie, that I looked at every day for weeks.
But I felt nothing.
I just couldn’t do it.
I wondered if my fickle muse had left me, for good.
And then, one rainy afternoon, inspiration struck me like a lightning bolt.
A lightning bolt in the form of high heeled sneakers.
Please do not worry. These are not my sneakers.
What happened then was this:
I was at my gym, having my afternoon treadmill break, watching The Office on my cell phone. It’s really not a lot of fun to work out in you place of employment. I always have one ear and one eye tuned into what’s going on around me, just in case anyone needs any help with something.
That day, I heard someone being excessively loud on a treadmill. Sometimes this happens when a person has never been on such a device before- they bend over the monitor, and walk very flat footed, making resounding slapping sounds that echo throughout the gym. Usually I will approach the loud walker, and show them how to walk.
This time, though, was not the usual culprit. This time I had to stop running, just to make sure that I was seeing things correctly.
I was.
It was a woman, on a treadmill, wearing high-heeled sneakers.
And now I was in an interesting dilemma; do I approach this misguided Gaga wannabe, and let her know that, despite appearances, her shoes are not actually athletic footwear, and site safety concerns?
I have had to apprehend many an inappropriate footwear offenders in my gym; flip-flops, dirty work boots that leave a trail of mud everywhere, a sweet old woman who thought that her Puma socks replaced the need for sneakers, and even plain old bare feet.
High heels, though, was new.
So what could i do but resume my run, watch her progress, and think?
I thought a lot.
Sure, she was engaging her calf muscles a little more- basically an extreme form of Shape-Ups. So much so that she did not even make ten minutes on the treadmill. She then headed for the elliptical, which presented much more of a challenge.
Just when I decided that I had to stop her before she got injured, she decided to end her workout.
But I thought about it all day. Should high heeled sneakers be banned from a gym? I do truly believe in my heart of hearts that they are not made for that purpose. And yet I had a client tell me a few weeks ago that she wore a pedometer to the office and found that she walked almost three miles every day in her stilettos. Shows such as American Idol routinely put teen-aged contestants in the most towering platform feels and expect them to not only sing, but perform, with actual movements. Let’s not forget the Rockettes, and those red shoes. And lately it seems like any self respecting diva in the music industry is trying to find a way to dance in the tallest, most ridiculous, un-shoe-like apparatus imaginable. I’m just waiting for someone to come out with an elegant, bedazzled pair of stilts.
And so many celebrities and big names in fashion, like Heidi Klum and Norma Komali, have designed high-fashion workout wear.
Who says you need to look like a bum when you work out??
To me it just raises the question of where the line between fashion and stupidity actually lies. Sometimes it’s a very, very thin line.
Sometimes I just want to scream, “But think about how much cleaner you could dance/longer you could walk if you just wore appropriate footwear??”
And sometimes I just mutter, “Yes, well, when has fashion ever been about being appropriate? Wear what you feel!!”
How much is too much to suffer for the sake of fashion? For individuality?
I don’t know what the answer is, but I would really be interested in your opinions.
A Story Worth Sticking To.
This isn’t exactly a come back. It’s sort of… oh, I don’t know. An affirmation? A confession? Sob-fest?
I guess I don’t know what to call it.
I’ve never had a big opinion of public complaining. So I will try to keep this short. But probably not sweet.
I’m not sure why I haven’t been able to write lately. Maybe it’s just genuine writer’s block. It feels like something more, though.
I thought for a while that it was because the winter seemed as though it would never end. When Spring comes, I’ll feel better, I thought.
Well, I think that it’s safe to say that Spring has arrived at last. But I still don’t feel like writing.
The I thought it was because I was too busy. When these shows are over, I’ll have plenty of time, and I’ll write, I thought.
I have had no extra-curricular activities for quite some time now. And still, no writing.
I guess I just can’t put my finger on what’s bothering me. But something is, for sure.
Last week I decided that it was the fact that I hadn’t really reached any of my objectives for starting this blog. The amount of clothes I’ve weeded out is, really, negligible, and I haven’t been able to focus on my book with any renewed vigor, either.
Maybe I’ll feel better if I finally write that big summary I was planning to do about the clothes I’ve posted so far.
Or maybe something is trying to tell me it’s time to take a look at my book again.
Maybe I’m just still exhausted.
I just feel rather aimless right now. Adrift.
I had this same feeling, exactly, at the beginning of the year. With a little homeopathy, and lots of advice, it went away. But that’s not working for me this time.
I need to find something that might.
So. I’ve taken a very round about way to say that I’m not sure when I’ll be posting again.
I will be posting again.
And I hope it will be soon!
Sometimes Love Just Ain’t Enough.
Item: Jacket Color/Fabric: White, Cotton/spandex Designer: Luella For Target Where Purchased: Target Years Owned: Five
Tonight I am feeling a little melancholy. You know, just non-specific sadness. A feeling that I call blue.
I don’t know why. I had a lovely night of Shakespeare, and wonderful company.
It might be the fact that just seconds ago I put two ‘n’s and two ‘i’s in feeling. Or it may be the extra nostalgic tunes my iTunes is bestowing upon me this evening.
Tonight I am missing some souls I hold very dear, who are far away. You know who you are. And some of you don’t.
Well.
I’m afraid that I don’t have many words regarding this jacket. It’s something that I have had for many years, and yet cannot remember a single time that I’ve worn it. I am sure that I have. I look at it and see a field, with many people. A fair? A flea Market? Some sort of cultish gathering?
I just can’t remember.
I do remember buying it, though. I think that this may have been the first “Designer” label to come to Target. It was certainly one of the first. I was thrilled at the concept of getting something sort of exclusive for a very low price. And I fell in love with this jacket.
It seemed so modern and hip. A blazer! Every girl needs to have a blazer, I told myself. And one that is slightly quirky is even better!
I saw myself wearing this to the city, on writing excursions I was breathless to take. And that never happened, not even a single time.
Here’s the kicker. What sealed the deal;
Cherries! On the lining!
That summer I was in the process of getting the first nickname I’ve ever liked. I think I only ever had two other nicknames that I can remember. Kerbear, which happened I think just because it rhymed, and Catgirl, born out of my tree climbing abilities and tendency to meow at strangers when I was wee. Now it seems just a stone’s throw away from Catlady, and I’m glad it never stuck.
One day at rehearsal for Chicago, Kevin called me Cherry, and I answered, too shy to ask him why in the world he would call me that. Then other people started to refer to me as Cherry, and by that point I was baffled, but felt it had gone too far to speak up then.
I think that it was towards the end of the run, when I signed something “Kerry,” and Kevin was like, “Who is this Kerry person?”
“It’s me,” I said sheepishly, embarrassed beyond words.
There was much merriment. He really thought my name was Cherry, and so everyone else did by default.
It’s kind of gone away, now. Only a few people ever still call me that. But I like it when they do. It’s like my secret identity, when I need a little confidence. You know, like Beyonce has Sasha Fierce.
I have Cherry.
I like the concept of it lining my jacket, so just I know it’s there. A secret.
I also like the concept of this jacket. Love, actually.
Why can’t I make it work? I just can’t pull it off. I see it with a flouncy skirt and flats, or skinny jeans and heels. Over a bright sun-dress with sandals. Maybe just with a leotard, a la Gaga.
So many possibilities!
Yet I fail every time I put it on. Is it too cropped? Too white? Too little girly?
When is it time to throw in the towel?
**I just haven’t figured this out yet. But can’t let myself let it go yet. Help!
Uno! Dos! Tres!
Item: Skirt Color/Fabric: Poppy, cotton Designer: Maeve Where Purchased: Anthropologie Years Owned: 5
To begin, a confession. I am having a very hard time with the writing these days. Tonight, I decided I would give myself a goal of writing every other day for a bit and see how that goes.
It’s getting hard to find inspiration, and sometimes I feel as though all of my tales have been told. Tonight, for example, I decided that I did not want to write about anything theatre related. Apparently, a difficult task. Almost everything in my closet that spoke to me told a tale of seeing a show, or being in a show, or not getting into a show.
Even the skirt that I chose has a few theatre tales of its own. It was worn for a few brief moments in Bye Bye Birdie, by an 70 pound teenager, no less. Sometimes I got a little dismayed by how teeny-bopper much of my wardrobe looked in that show. It worked for the show, but I wonder frequently if they look the same on me. I hope not…
Anyway, this skirt has a lovely Spanish story as well, and that’s what came to my mind today.
I wore this our second day in Barcelona, a day I like to call “The Day of the Three Outfits.” Yes, there I was , like J Lo, with three fabulous costume changes. I have already written about another outfit that day, here.
This is the outfit I began the day in, however;
This is a girl ready to see a Pope Parade and explore Barcelona! An adventurer, with a hat!
You see, we unknowingly arrived at a very momentous time for Barcelona. My very first memory of the city is graffiti, on the train station. A great deal of it. It read “Adios, Papa!” and “Death to Papa!”
“Jeez,” I said to Nate. “Someone really hates their father.”
And there was more like it, all over the city.
Then, when we were seeing the Gothic quarter for the first time, we noticed that the cathedral was closed. And there was a giant banner.
It dawned on us at exactly the same time; Papa means Pope. Of course.
“Jeez,” I said to Nate. “Someone really hates the Pope.”
The Pope was visiting to consecrate La Sagrada Familia, and would be making a procession throughout the city in his Popemobile. Nate was very excited about this.
So we got up the next day and stood for a few hours, on a crowed street lined with every single cop in Spain. Seriously, they were lined up every two feet on both sides of the street, for miles and miles. And helicopters.
It was such a spectacle! At one point, a little boy ended up crawling underneath my skirt. He laughed uproariously when I caught him.
And then, after a long line of motorcycle cops and someone called “La Reina!”, there he was, the most famous man in the world. He seemed jovial. He waved, and in a second, he was gone again.
He was followed by a huge entourage of priests and nuns, and even more cops.
I’m glad that we got to be a part of such an event. We even got little flags to wave, which we kept, of course.
Then we headed to Guell Park, which I had wanted to see since high school Spanish class. I had no idea that it was so remote. How hard could it be to find? It’s giant.
It wasn’t quite as magical as I dreamed. Yes, the landscape and the architecture were whimsical and remarkable, and it did feel like being in Wonderland. At least it would have, if it could have been a little less crowded.
And there were so many vendors, which took away from the storybook magic.
But some made a different type of magic that I didn’t expect to find. Yes, there were many people pawning off mass produced junk. But there were also artists, selling wonderful works made by their own hands. I bought a perfect bracelet from a charming man with a filthy dog. If I could go back, I would have bought more. He made beautiful jewelry.
Outfit number two I like to call “the cape.” It is one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever owned. I’ll wait to tell that tale.
I think I may have worn this skirt more than anything else I own. I’ve worn it tons, in many different ways. I love the color, and I love to wear it with unusual combinations, like bright blue. And hats. I like the ballerina-y look the best. I just haven’t grown tired of this one yet. I think I could keep finding new ways to wear it.
**I am enormously fond of this skirt. I have not grown tired of it yet, so it lives to see another wear. Or two. xxsx (My nephew typed that. I’m proud, so it stays, too!)
All That Dances Through Me.
Item: Blouse Color/Fabric: Beige, polyester Where Purchased: Banana Republic Years Owned: At least 6
I really want to write tonight, but I’m not sure how long I’ll last. Sitting is just about the most unpleasant activity I can think of right now, and the fact that I have to sit and write when Nate is using his laptop is seriously limiting my writing productivity.
To be frank, it sucks.
But I am determined to try! Brevity can be powerful, they tell me.
So. This blouse. An odd fact is that I can’t remember buying this blouse. I remember all of my acquisitions! Except this. It may have been in Lansing, it may have been in Woodbury Commons. Either way, I know that I have had it for many years.
I have always loved the vintage look and elegant cut of this blouse, but I’m afraid that I haven’t worn it to its fullest potential. I have always envisioned this tucked into brown high-waisted, wide leg trousers, a la Katerine Hepburn. Maybe with chunky oxfords. And red lipstick. And a suitcase.
I’m not sure why I haven’t made that happen. It might be because the sleeves are a tiny bit tight around my bulging forearms. It may also be that I am too lazy. And lack the correct type of trousers.
Anyway, this has had a rather illustrious career on stage, having been worn in two productions to date. The first was two summers ago, in Tommy. Tommy was absolutely one of my favorite show ever. I was a part of the ensemble, and it was such a fun and rewarding challenge because I got to play so many different characters. I was a soldier, a nurse, a forensic photographer, a juvenile delinquent, a churchish caroler, a junkie, a reporter, a crazed Beatle-mania-esque groupie, and a doting mother. I think that I had 11 costume changes. Which wasn’t so bad, since one of our leads, the lovely Maria, had four in the first two minutes of the show…
This blouse was a part of the crazed Beatle-mania-eque costume. But they were all awesome, as was the entire show. Exhausting, and way too many pirouettes, but awesome. The choreography was frenetic and relentless, and I loved it. The cast was filled with many of my amazing and talented friends, and all under the guidance of my flawless friend Kevin.
I can’t help but look back and smile when I think of Tommy, as I did today on my way home when I heard ‘Sensation,” a song that I really struggled to learn the harmonies, but the ever patient Paul helped immensely.
I don’t always feel like smiling when I hear songs from shows I’ve performed in, even if it was a wonderful show. Sometimes I feel a an overwhelming sort of embarrassment, a reminder of the ways that I failed to give the best performance I could have. Sometimes it takes years before I can listen to a show I’ve been in.
Tommy was a special show, and a delightful challenge, and I’m proud to have been a part of it.
Another show I am hugely proud of being involved in is the very recent Bye Bye Birdie. It’s a very different sort of pride, since I wasn’t on stage, ever. Many bits of my life were, though, in the form of my clothes. I got to assist with the costuming. This blouse was a part of another screaming teenager ensemble, only this time it was on a actual teenager. The teens in that show were all just wonderful. They worked incredibly hard, and there were no catty attitudes. The lead actress, my gorgeous friend Kat, was remarkably easy to dress, since everything we put on her body looked amazing. This was the third show I’ve done under Annie’s direction, who is inspired and gifted, and a remarkable friend. She crafted a fun and funny production, and it was a joy to be a part of it. I can’t even count how many costumes were used in that show, but there were a ton. It was truly fulfilling creatively for me, and I hope to become more involved with costuming in the future.
Right now, though, I need a little break. While I have enjoyed every show I’ve been involved with, I need some time off if I want to keep loving the theatre. It’s a lot of work to do and maintain a full time job, and I never want to view it as a burden. When I started to become involved in the theatre here, my goal was 1 or 2 shows per year. I need to stick to that I think, as long as I am working as much as I do.
I know I’m going to miss out on some fun opportunities, though…
And what shall I do with this blouse?
**I am a sucker for all things retro. This stays as long as my guns can squeeze into it.
I Am What I Wore 