It Had to be Hue: A Cardi Party and Notes from New England

I hate the back-to-school shopping season.  And I'm not even a student (or teacher)!  It's just so disheartening the way retailers shut out the still-strong summer sun to usher in that most hated of clothing categories commonly known as "transitional wear."  You know what I'm talking about.  Warm-weather tanks and sundresses tainted by sepulchral tones of terra cotta, olive, harvest gold, and eggplant that all but whisper, "The ice cream stands will soon be closing.  Time for a glass of apple cider to wash down that algebra!"

That having been said, you wouldn't think that I'd be into shopping for tights and sweaters before Labor Day. But that's where the plot of this post thickens.  I've never been one to abandon the fruits of the bargain bin, however out of season.  That's how I came to own this host of last season's Hue hosiery and these sweet-shop-shade-shrouded sweaters from that mecca of markdowns, Kohl's.  I especially love the heart one because 1) it's mint, and 2) it makes me feel like a I climbed out of a comic strip (oh, Cathy, how we miss thee!).

Lastly, if this post is glaring in its lack of usual Tote Trove finery, then that's because I've recently returned from my honeymoon.  The husband and I (ooh, how weird that sounds!) road tripped it up to Massachusetts.  During the drive we spied Ohio license plates that said, "Birthplace of Aviation," and North Carolina license plates that said, "First in Flight," both capitalizing on the celebrity of the Wright brothers.  We couldn't help but wonder if Ohioans and North Carolinians fight about this and went as far as to fabricate a Nicholas Sparks-esque story of star-crossed lovers.  She's a pilot from Ohio, and he's an award-winning model plane builder from North Carolina, and they meet in a bicycle shop (in Canada).  The whole sorry saga is called Flight Risk, and it goes without saying that one of them dies.    

Speaking of license plate slogans, the Spirit of America state was a scenic delight (even if they do make you pump your own gas).  Moreover, New Englanders are my kind of people.  Which is to say that they don't get all up in your business or chorus out, "How can I help you?" as soon as you cross a shop threshold.

To this Jersey girl, it felt almost like home.