Rind Finds and a Sweet and Tart Read: Summer, Start Your Engine

 Rainbow Confetti Necklace

Top: POPSUGAR, Kohl's

Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Circus by Sam Edelman, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Michaels

 Fabulous Felt Lemons Barrette

Top: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Sleepyville Critters, Zulily

Sunglasses: Michaels

 Cherry Ice Cream Necklace

Top: Fifth Sun, JCPenney

Skirt: Amazon

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Gifted

Sunglasses: Brigantine beach shop

Memorial Day.  The sun on your face, something hot off the grill, and a tall glass of cold lemonade.  Does it get any better than this?  

It does if you score some new citrus-themed clothes and/or lose yourself in a good book.  Full disclosure: I bought these tangy togs more than a month ago and finished reading When Life Gives You Lululemons on Friday.  Which means that today I'm not doing any of that and am headed to a BBQ.  But the promise of this post is what kicked off my weekend.  Not unlike this pair of Katy Perry flip flops that I'm currently, ahem, rocking. :)

But I digress.  

Time for the book club portion of our program.

No one wants workout gear.  Especially the designer, Stepford wife kind that takes the place of bona fide clothes.  So it was mighty clever of Lauren Weisberger to use it in the tile of her third Devil Wears Prada novel.  Remember Emily (also Emily, Blunt that is, in the movie version), Miranda Priestly's (Meryl Streep's) other assistant?  The mean queen bee fashionista to leading lady Andy's (Anne Hathaway's) fish-out-of-Figi ingenue?  Well, Lululemons is all about her.  She relocated to Los Angeles to start a fabulous life as a stylist to the stars and is now a PR goddess fixer.  But lately no one is in need of her signature brand of spin doctor sorcery.  Because she's in her mid-thirties and doesn't know how to use Snapchat.  Which seems silly to anyone outside of Tinseltown's rarefied and fragile bubble.  But it's enough to make Young Hollywood shun Emily in favor of a fellow millennial.         

Now, Emily is not at all the kind of character I identify with or even usually admire.  Slick and savvy, she's a master manipulator who gets whatever she wants.  But I think that's what makes her so interesting, even if only as a lesson on how to deal with -- and perhaps even understand -- people like her IRL.  Right or wrong, her moxie serves her in righting her career as well as in saving two friends from personal ruin.  Old camp pal Miriam is a high-powered lawyer-turned stay-at-home-mom who feels overwhelmed.  And Karolina is an ex-supermodel married to a senator with an agenda.  Yet despite their accomplishments, these women lack Emily's nerve.  Emerging as more than a wardrobe warrior princess, it's Emily who reminds them to put themselves first.  Rudely and in an in-your-face way, yes, but that's what they need.  Then, as always in fiction land, just as Emily puts their lives back together, her own does a wild 180.      

When Life Gives You Lululemons is a page-turner for sure, zinging with all of Weisberger's wit, humor, and glimpses into the glitterati.  Funny and fierce, it -- wait for it -- puts the devil in diva.  I know, I know.  Simply awful.  And not something that Miranda Priestly would find the least bit amusing.   

Now for something that no one in this book (except for maybe Miriam, bless her heart) would find amusing or ever hang on her mansion door: my new lemon wreath!  I love that it's kind of unruly, as if at any moment the lemons might launch a revolt.  Also, I dig the red and yellow combo.  Because, Ronald McDonald forever.

So, this Memorial Day (and every day), when life gives you lemons, just spit out the seeds.  And grill your own cheeseburger and avoid Ronald McDonald.

He may be stylish, but he seems like a creep.   

Lars and Stripes Forever

Sure, it's a little weird that I'm trotting out a Canadian for a semi-patriotic post.  But Ryan Gosling is so much more than an overly polite, maple syrup-guzzling, hockey-worshiper.  After all, he did save that journalist that time.  And it doesn't get much more American -- or, for that matter, thespian -- than risking it all for free speech.   

We've seen Gosling in courtrooms and race cars, behind the piano and on the other side of the law.  But of all of his movies, I like him best in Lars and the Real Girl.  To me, it's there that he's at his most vulnerable and endearing.  And yes, I'm counting that one where he rows a boat in the rain.

Lars is a near-recluse who lives in his brother's garage in a small, snowy town.  His brother Gus (Paul Schneider) and sister-in-law Karin (Emily Mortimer) have an ongoing bet as to whether he'll show up for dinner (spoiler alert, he doesn't), and he cringes whenever someone tries to touch him.  Some of these anxieties seem to stem from his mom dying in childbirth, others from an innate inability to deal with change.  Still, Lars manages to hold down a job.  And it's in their shared cubicle that his degenerate coworker introduces him to the world of online sex dolls.  Before we know it, Lars is telling Gus and Karin that he's met someone.  They're overjoyed, relieved, and willing to do whatever it takes to make Lars's relationship work.

And then Lars wheels in Bianca. 

Even after one of those hurried, honey-help-me-with-dinner kitchen conferences, Gus and Karin remain flabbergasted.  But Karin, who happens to be pregnant, insists that they be supportive.  And so they solider on with the meal and everything that follows.  Lars has crafted an elaborate backstory for Bianca, which he relays with confidence.  He knows her likes and dislikes, her hopes and dreams and fears.  It's funny.  It's sad.  And because of Lars and his childlike ways, it's also kind of sweet.

Before long, everyone in town pitches in to help with Bianca.  They invite her to potlucks and sewing circles, to volunteer at the hospital and sit on the school board.  And slowly, something happens.  As the community begins to accept Bianca, Lars begins to accept himself.  It turns out that Bianca is how he works through his issues, navigates social situations, and prepares for his first "real" girlfriend.  Because bringing all of his fears to the surface is the only way he can put them behind him.  When we first meet Lars, he's so anxious and self-contained that he can't even bring himself to hug Karin.  And yet, when things take a turn with Bianca, the whole town turns out for him.  Making him realize that he's not so alone after all.

Lars and the Real Girl blurs the lines between what's real and what's not.  Bittersweet and sensitive, it brings new meaning to embracing the bizarre.  Because sometimes going crazy is the only way to get back to normal.

 Both shirts from TJ Maxx.

Both bags Liz Claiborne from J. C. Penney's.

So . . . stripes.  This bold top twosome is somewhere between the spangly sex worker garb that Bianca arrives in and the down-home sweaters in which Lars swathes her.  As for the bags, they're more Good Ship Lollipop than trollop.

Which is just about as sweet as it gets for this more Liz Claiborne than Dolls Kill kind of girl.

May Flower Power

Fabulous Felt Tulips Barrette

Top: Marshalls
Skirt: Amazon
Shoes: Penny Loves Kenny, DSW
Bag: Bisou Bisou, J. C. Penney's
Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Groovy Girl Charm Bracelet

Top: One Clothing, Marshalls

Skirt: Celebrity Pink, Marshalls

Boots: 2 Lips Too, DSW

Bag: Arizona Jeans, J. C. Penney's

Belt: Sheplers

You know what they say about April showers -- they bring May flowers.  And May flowers remind me of the Mayflower, which isn't nearly as whimsical, unless you're into big belt buckles -- or butts -- and diphtheria.  None of which, luckily, were at the Borgata, where I snapped these gorgeous glass flowers.  Scratch that.  I probably did see some big butts there, buffets -- and their groupies -- being in abundance at any casino.  But you can trust me about the diphtheria. 

Anyhoo, I've always loved casinos.  Not for the gambling or even the grub, but for the so-bad-it's-good decor.  Not like in the movie Casino, mind you, or any other such drab, shoot 'em up narrative.  More like in Vegas Vacation, with cartoonish lights and head-to-toe rhinestones and everyone driving home in a new car.  And the aforesaid bold blooms are bursting with that aesthetic.  Far more exotic than anything that ever grew on Plymouth Rock, they whisper of far-flung escapes and enchanting encounters.  Which is maybe, now that I think of it, why they're in the Borgata lobby in the first place.  They're supposed to say, hey, fresh-off-the-bus-sequin-track-suit lady.  Give us your grocery money and never ride the Greyhound next to Gassy Gert again!  Hit the jackpot and jet to Aruba!  Beat blackjack and book Bora Bora!  And if by some slim chance you don't sashay away with a bucket of tokens?  No worries.  A tropical getaway is still within your reach -- in the form of comped coconut shrimp.  Which will come in mighty handy now that you've gambled away your groceries.

So . . . maybe forget the glass garden.  And hang with the tulips and daisies.  'Cause Grandma would want it that way.

Unless, of course, she's pawning her pearls and making a beeline for the baccarat table.

Buckle Up, Buttercup

All belts from Belt is Cool, Amazon except for the orange one, which is from Marshalls.

But then, "suck it up" works well here too.  Especially when it comes to stubborn guts and too-big butts.  Because a belt -- especially these woven ones -- can accommodate behinds of all kinds.  (No notes about a belt going around your waist, please; I like the behind thing.  Mostly because it rhymes.)  You just pull tight, stick the needle thingy in any hole, and go.  Of course, there is such a thing as pulling too tight because sometimes I feel like I'm wearing a corset.  That said, I have a couple of elastic, buckle-less bow belts that spring open if I eat a big meal.  Which I naively found out last Thanksgiving.  

So, belt it out when you want to keep it all in.  Or are just jonesing for some Peg Bundy-style funky flair.  I blame that last part on the husband, who insists on humming "Love and Marriage" whenever I wear one of my beloved waist cinchers.  

But I'll take it.  It's better than "Baby's Got Back."

Mother Earth Mirth

Dress: Mudd, Kohl's
Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Modcloth
Bangles: B Fabulous

 Fabulous Felt Red Folk Flowers Barrette

Dress: Ruby Rox, J. C. Penney's
Shoes: Delicious, Zulily
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Amazon
Top bangle: Silver Linings, Ocean City, NJ boardwalk
Middle bangle: B Fabulous
Bottom bangle: Amrita Singh, Zulily
Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Fabulous Felt Yellow Folk Flowers Barrette

Ah, Mother's Day.  A time to honor Mom -- the perennial keeper of the familial garden -- as the pampered flower she deserves to be.  And what better way to do that than with flowers?  Or in this case, flower barrettes.  (Mom, don't worry; these barrettes are not your gift, just part of my pseudo sales pitch.  Pseudo because 1) Mother's Day is already here and 2) I hope all the moms are getting brunch and handbags and real flowers).  Speaking of my mom, (as we just were), she always planted the first flowers of the season, which were always pansies, on Mother's Day.  And I would think, why does she want to be down in the dirt on her own holiday, when she could be eating Twizzlers or taking a nap?  But the thing is, my mom loves flowers and making things beautiful.  She wanted to be starting her garden, giving root to the first of the many blossoms that would make our yard explode with color.  That's what makes her such a gifted gardener, both literal and figurative, nurturing not only roses and marigolds, but my sister and me through all of our less than lovely years.  So thanks, Mom, for being tougher than crabgrass and grub worms and doing the hard work of helping us grow.   

On that note, here are some of my flowers.  Okay, my only flowers.  I didn't plant these azaleas (that credit goes to the previous homeowner) or even maintain them (the bottoms are choked by dead leaves), but they're blooming just the same.  And that makes me happy and hopeful that maybe someday I'll plant flowers, too.

Even if they're only plastic.  

Cinco de Mayo: Five Alive

 Fabulous Felt Cute Fruit Barrette

Tee: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Bag: T-Shirt & Jeans, Zulily

Shoes: Cape Robin, Ami Clubwear

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Necklace: The Tote Trove

Blue bangle: So, Kohl's

Green bangles: B Fabulous

Fabulous Felt Pink Strawberries Barrette

Top: Almost Famous, Macy's Backstage

Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Striped bangles: B Fabulous

Ring: Delia's

Polka dot bangle: Mixit, JCPenney

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Back in the day, Five Alive was one of those frozen canned juices.  In addition, of course, to being Jonny's catch phrase in Short Circuit.  But this post isn't about robots or discontinued beverages from the '80s.  It's about fruit.  And Cinco de Mayo.  Sort of.

On previous Cinco de Mayos, I explored dessert quesadillas, avocados, flowers, and straw hats.  But I've never given fruit (proper fruit, that is, as everyone knows that avocados are just something you smear on carbs) its due.  Which seems unfair when you consider the starring role that nature's candy plays in fiestas.  I realize that when people say nature's candy they mean raisins -- which are fun for no one.  But rest assured; there's no shriveled produce lurking here.  Just three strawberries, an orange slice, a pineapple, and -- drumroll, please -- a big bunch of grapes.  I'm glad I caught them before that doe-eyed chick from the Sunmaid box could do them dirty.

She isn't fooling anyone with that bonnet.

Also, she might be a robot. 

Ketching Up With Mustard

Tops: Self Esteem, Zulily

Pumps with turquoise interior: Delicious, Zulily

Other pumps: Worthington, J. C. Penney's

Top necklace: Colors, Kohl's

Middle necklace: Wet Seal

Bottom necklace: Mixit, J.C. Penney's

French's, Gulden's, Grey Poupon, 

They're all so sharp,

You can't go wrong . . .

. . . unless you're building a sandwich instead of an outfit.

I've never liked mustard the condiment.  But in recent years, I've developed a taste for mustard the color.  As someone who hates ketchup but loves red, I should've seen this coming (and probably did, as I sense I've already blogged about this.  Just think of me as your aunt who never stops asking if that's your real nose.)  Anyway, I like the way it makes other colors -- especially its stepsister, yellow -- pop.  Also, it has a warm, retro feel.  Like the harvest gold stoves of the '70s (including the one my parents had in the '80s).  So of course I purchased two nearly identical tops in this nostalgic hue.  Both have sweetheart neckline lace insets, both are made by Self Esteem, both come from Zulily, and both cost $12.99.  I bought the one on the left last year (I wore it a ton), and the one on the right just last week.  Both go great with lots of things, including this piping hot pretzel.

Betsey Johnson, Macy's

By the way, the runner-up title for this post was Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory With a Candlestick.  Not because I like the game Clue (I don't).  But because I used to have a pair of sweatpants in this oh-so-special shade, and when I wore them, the husband would refer to me as that esteemed-yet-murderous (or should I say Self-Esteemed?) military man.  Which I, wanting to be Miss Scarlet, wasn't crazy about.        

These days he steers clear of candlesticks.