Pipe Dreams for Posterity and a Word form Willy Wonka

 Diamond Drama Necklace

Top: Candie's, Kohl's

Camisole: So, Kohl's

Jeans: City Streets, JCPenney

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Cloud Nine, Ocean City

Jacket: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Wet Seal

Scarves: A.C. Moore

 All Sorts of Sweet Necklace

Cardigan: So, Kohl's

Camisole: Wet Seal

Skirt: Ellen Tracy, JCPenney

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Belt: Be Fabulous

 Bow Brigade Necklace

Tee: Target

Pants: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Nahui Ollin

Jacket: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Sunglasses: Cloud Nine, Ocean City 

 Day Glo Owls into Night Necklace

Top: Macy's

Jeans: City Streets, JCPenney

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Worthington, JCPenney

Belt: Izod, Marshalls

Bargain bin Kohl's earrings I upcycled into necklaces (one below, one in my jewelry box).

Rhinestone Reflection Necklace

Top: Boscov's

Skirt: Decree, JCPenney

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Marshalls

Recent Powerball jackpots have got me wondering what I'd do if I struck it rich (you know, after the humdrum expenditures associated with bills, gifts, a house and car, and several hundred pairs of shoes).  You might think I'd open a (brick and mortar) accessory store.  But if there's anything I've learned after years of craft fairs and Etsy, then it's that most people are more interested in looking at my creations than in wearing them.  That having been said, I'd open a Tote Trove museum.  Kind of like the Museum of Bad Art, but not.  Speaking of which, the husband tried to surprise me with a stop there on the way home from our honeymoon, but when we stepped into one of the three greater Boston area galleries, we found just a sad, empty room.  At first we thought that the art was so bad that the whole operation had to be abandoned.  Then the kindly proprietor of the old-timey movie theater next door informed us that they were merely revamping and would someday reopen.  

But back to the topic at hand, namely my museum.  It would be manned by an army of mannequins (with a place of honor for Tammy, complete with a commemorative plaque!) decked out in my clothes and accessories.  (I wouldn't need the clothes anymore, having upgraded to a super exclusive, celebrity-worthy, all-designer wardrobe.)   Every museum-goer would receive one of those big, swirly lollipops with the price of admission (although eating in the museum would be strictly prohibited, a rule enforced by Oompa Loompa-looking security guards armed with walkie-talkies resembling Hershey bars).  There'd be a dress-up room and a crafting station and a fun house mirror (because come on, why not?), and a lobby wall-papered in Tote Trove tote reproductions.  Kind of like my craft fair tent used to be, but classier, which is to say, without the clothesline.  Like any self-respecting museum, it would have a gift shop situated tourist-trap style at the exit, offering a small selection of Tote Trove originals as well as greeting cards, notepads, journals, bookmarks, magnets, and other assorted trinkets emblazoned with a few treasured Trove designs.  I'd get a courteous but faintly aloof middle-aged woman to run the cash register and passive-aggressively pressure customers into joining the mailing list.  Sometimes I'd show up (incognito, of course), just to check on things, ominously surveying the displays while brandishing truffle oil-drizzled Cheetos (the no eating rule wouldn't apply to me).  But mostly I'd stay home, barricaded in my Candyland castle replica of a mansion, writing my memoirs, also eating truffle oil-drizzled Cheetos.

Needless to say, I'm joking about most of this.  Except for maybe the part about the Oompa Loompas.  They'd be enough to scare off anyone looking to rough up a new lottery winner.