Saturday, March 27, 2010

Frumpy Footwear, A Mini-Gallery

Lately, I've been surreptitiously snapping photos of the frumpy footwear that seems to be taking over my little section of suburbia. Everywhere I look my eyeballs are affronted with shoes that make me wonder if there is a giant shoe store filled with camping shoes somewhere in my midst that I'm overlooking. I wouldn't even know where to buy these shoes, even if I wanted to (and I don't and won't, unless I get some kind of head injury. Or hardcore bunions.) Odds are good that this is just the first in a series of these galleries, since the subjects are just so darn plentiful. It's like whale watching during mating season.

These are probably the least offensive, but still. They look like convertible house slippers:

And now for the ever-popular "grandpa tourist" look:

"Excuse me, I'm just stopping in for a latte before my daily riverbed-walking expedition":

Can't stop. Hammertime (click on the photo for the full effect. I beg you.):

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Why hello, 80's. I've missed you.

I have been doing a little spring shopping lately and I feel like Alice in Wonderland who fell down the rabbit hole right back into 1987. And I love it. I have never hidden my devotion to the 80's, mainly the music and, ok, specifically Michael Jackson and Jon Bon Jovi. But I still have heart-flutters when I think about certain outfits I wore in the 80's—the pink zip-up dress, the fisherman sweaters (worn backwards, of course), the pop beads, my dad's army jacket. The 80's were good to me, fashion-wise. Part of this is the same reason why I'm happy to see them return. See, the whole baggy-on-top-slim-on-bottom look is EXACTLY what this busty, skinny-legged body needs. One time, I was reading one of those magazine articles where they ask you what fruit you are—apple, pear, etc. I said to my husband, "I never relate to these... I guess maybe I'm an upside down pear?" To which he responded, without even looking up from what he was reading, "You are a lightbulb." So see, I need this trend back. The entire era of the 90's, with the baggy Z Cavaricci jeans and the tight bodysuit tops, was an abomination to my particular body type. Yes, I realize I'm thinking selfishly, but I'm overjoyed to see it all—the neon, the converse, the boots, the layers.

Here are a couple of things I bought that make my toes curl with happiness. First, the cutest, most comfortable ballet flats ever, and you can't tell by this picture but they are straight-up NEON pink:

You can buy them here.

And this army-inspired jacket that for some reason was $29.99 off of $118.00—reminds me of when I used to wear my dad's army jacket to school with my CP Shades long pink skirt:

You can buy it here.

Ah, yes. Now if only John Hughes were here to share my joy.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Watch out Gwen Stefani, I'm a comin' for you

After the whole surgery/hospital/lack of sleep/purple eye bag thing, I decided I needed a serious look pick-me-up. I mean, I felt like I aged twelve years in two weeks and mama needed to turn back the clock. So here's what I did.

First, I bought myself these glasses. Normally, I'm more of a Nicole Richie/big sunglasses type of gal. These are way more hipster than I usually go for, which has the effect of making me feel like a total stranger when I have them on. They make me younger, more attractive, skinnier and smarter. They do. I swear. They also make my bad haircut fabulous and turn my minivan into a Porsche Cayenne.

Next, I went and got a mani/pedi, but I did something different this time. I went for super-dark-purple-almost-black on my feet AND my hands. I mean, the last time I had a shade on my fingertips besides pale nude, I think it was the 80's and my nails were acrylic. I also believe I caught them on fire, but that's another story. Again, the dark nails transformed my hands into hipster hands, cured my hangnails and added two carats to my diamond.

Between the shades and the nails, I feel like a rock star. Mind you, I'm not saying I LOOK like a rock star, that's not really for me to say. But, on the back end of 30 with two kids and a minivan, feeling like a rock star is a damn good start. Grand total was about $250. Not exactly chump change, but for a full week's supply of being a superstar in my own mind, I'd say it was well worth it.