Friday, January 31, 2020

Little Pink Houses for You and Tree


The subject of this post is no mystery.  Although "little" may be a misnomer considering the size of this stately Victorian (which you may recognize from Cape Escape and Beads with Bite).  Then again, kitschy Christmas trees and gingerbread trim just might be what John Cougar Mellencamp had in mind when writing about those rose-colored dwellings in his satiric song about the American Dream.  Socioeconomic commentary aside, I loved seeing this house in Cape May back in the beginning of January.  It shone in the cold, dark night like a beacon bathed in liquid cherries.  If houses were desserts, then this one would be a birthday cake, the artificially dyed and flavored kind that comes out of a box.  If you know about my love of cake mixes (and I think you do), then you know that this is high praise.

Here's something else that's pink and sweet: a double scoop of old necklaces against a background of floating cherries (a fruit that's two for two in this post).  Unlike other things that come in scoops (I'm talking to you, ice cream.  Even though, structurally, you're more like spaghetti.), they don't get freezer burned if you leave them alone for a while.  Instead, they grow brighter and more beautiful, like the pink mildew around your shower drain.  That's right: I just tooted my own crafter's horn and got gooey about a parasite.  But I take my happiness where I can find it.


That said, pink houses may be dream houses.  But they'll always be real -- and real tasty -- to me.

Sunday, January 26, 2020

Women's Lit and Ladies' Wit: Writers Gotta Write


Fabulous Felt Book Barrettes

Top: Marshalls
Skirt: Vanilla Star, Macy's
Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily
Bag: Dancing Days by Banned, Modcloth
Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I don't like classic literature.  It's as moldy as Brie, its thees and thous sticking in my throat like errant Doritos as yet someone else dies of consumption.  And yet, I love Louisa May Alcott's Little Women.  I think that almost everyone knows this novel about the four March sisters coming of age in Massachusetts during and after the Civil War.  Meg is pretty and traditional, Jo is a rebellious writer, Beth is sweet and shy, and Amy is a social-climbing artist.  Women of all ages love this story and these characters just as I do.  It just took seeing Greta Gerwig's big screen adaptation to remind me.  

Did I check Little Women out of my elementary school library multiple times so I could finish reading it?  Yes.  Did I ask the super nice librarian, with not a little (totally unwarranted) trepidation, what * * * meant?  Yes.  (Scene change, it turns out.  To this day, I can't see a series of asterisks and not think about that.)  Did I watch the 1994 movie with Winona Ryder as Jo and Christian Bale as Laurie?  And did I cry when Beth (Claire Danes) died and Jo refused Laurie's proposal?  Um, is Aunt March an asshole?  Spoiler alert: she is.  Yet despite or perhaps because of spending all this time with the March family, I was instantly under Ms. Gerwig's spell as the first scene opened that day in the theater.  Maybe it's because the story starts in the middle and shows what came before in flashbacks.  We first see Jo (Saoirse Ronan) when she's living in New York at that boarding house, teaching and publishing her vampire stories and dealing with Professor Bhaer's cruel-to-be-kind dismissal of them.  Still, despite Jo's troubles, her life has a kind of vitality, a promise that threatens to explode when she's swept up in a dark yet lively dance scene.  By contrast, when we meet Meg (Emma Watson), she's peering sadly outside the door of her shabby house, resignedly telling her children to go play.  This makes it all the more poignant when we see Meg come to the same house, then sunshine yellow, years earlier as a bride, as euphoric and blind as the teenager she undoubtedly is.  She wanted marriage and children more than anything, but money troubles drive a wedge between her and her schoolteacher husband, a problem that becomes obvious when they quarrel over the $50 that Meg spent on fabric for a dress.  They make up, of course (although not after Meg has sold the fabric), but their reconciliation is bittersweet.  John's a good man, and Meg loves him.  But Gerwig makes no mistake in showing that Meg's life is limited.

Little Women is full of romance and girlish dreams.  But it's also about women's rights and being allowed to want more than being someone's wife and mother.  Gerwig shines a spotlight on that, making this classic seem as if it were happening today.  

Anyway, here's my copy of the book.  I hate how the cover features two randos instead of the four March sisters.  But then, bargain book buyers can't be choosers.


And now for some arts and crafts!  As a nod to Little Women and other timeless tales, I made this set of Fabulous Felt Book Barrettes:  


The spines are supposed to imitate old-timey leather, all rich and scholarly like the kind in the nineteenth century library of a land baron who never reads.  Speaking of which, here I am with some of my books.  Most of them are paperbacks, and most were written by women.    


I think that Jo would agree with me when I say this: women, uncap your pens.

Thursday, January 23, 2020

Cleveland Frocks: The Price is Stripe





"The White Stripes may be a great band, but when it comes to wearing stripes, I'm all about color."

I think that would be a good opener for an infomercial about rainbow-striped sweaters.  The super cheap, super flammable, super acrylic kind that should be stockpiled in the back of a Club Wagon.  The spokesman (for some reason I see a man) is a portly fellow wearing a too-tight Crayola-striped turtleneck.  He has a comb-over and eyes like mothballs.  In the background, there's a silhouette of a guy with Flock of Seagulls hair whaling on air guitar to a jazz cover of "Seven Nation Army."  (When the producers asked Jack White about using the original, he said "hail no".)  The big finish is when Mr. Comb-over screams, "$9.99 are you out of your mind?!" while maniacally tugging at what's left of his hair. 

Now, I'm in no position to razz on cheap sweaters.  Because the one in the first pic was only $12.99.  Which isn't so far from Club Wagon territory -- even if I did buy it from that Club Wagon called Kohl's.  Still, the siren song of satire was too strong for me.

Here are some other stripes that I'm posting just because they look cool:


Maybe what that infomercial needs is a few scarves and pairs of tights draped around Mr. Comb-over's neck  Either that, or replacing Mr. Comb-over with Drew Carey.  And Kathy Kinney, otherwise known as Mimi.  Or, as I like to call her, Big M.

Because Big M. brings the bold.  Also the bullying.  But mostly the bold. 

If she and Jack White got into a fight, I think she could take him.

Sunday, January 19, 2020

Glad Tidings and Tidying




 Outer Banks Pranks Necklace

Sweater: Cara Santana for Apt. 9, Kohl's
Coat: POPSUGAR, Kohl's
Skirt: Bongo, Sears
Shoes: Zulily
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's
Striped bangle: Mixit, JCPenney
Yellow bangle: Silver Linings
Orange bangle: Mixit, JCPenney
Purple bracelet: Etsy
Green bracelet: Amrita Singh, Zulily

You know how Marie Kondo, author of The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, asks you to ask yourself, "Does this spark joy?" when deciding whether to keep or toss that alligator-shaped back scratcher?  (And no, I didn't read Tidying; I'd rather drink vinegar than read books about cleaning.)  Well, this star-spangled, faux fur jacket that I got for my birthday sparks so much joy that it's like the Fourth of July.  Not that it was or ever would be a candidate on my "toss" list.  Still, I wanted to express how much I love it.  And also make a pop culture reference.  Which, as you know, is something that I love too. 

You know who else loves stuff and isn't keen on tidying?  Rebecca Bloomwood of Shopaholic fame.  I just read Sophie Kinsella's Christmas Shopaholic (perfectly acceptable, as I still have my tree up), and it was an utter delight. 


I'm just going to say it: Kinsella's Shopaholic series is one of the best ever written.  Because it's all about chasing joy (hear that Marie?) wherever it takes you -- even if it turns out to be the mall.  Becky is quirky and spunky and full of life.  Creditors notwithstanding, she spreads sunshine wherever she goes.  Which makes her not a cautionary tale, but a role model.     

Anyway, in this Christmas-themed caper, Becky's parents sublet their house and move to the city, asking Becky to host Christmas for the first time.  Which sounds simple but isn't because each guest has his/her own ridiculous expectations.  Also, Becky's college boyfriend, who's a moody music nerd-turned-rock god, has surfaced with his wannabe-mogul girlfriend -- and an agenda.  But Becky doesn't let any of this stop her when it comes to planning the perfect celebration for her crew.  And as the grandaddy of gift-giving occasions, Christmas is the ideal season to showcase her antics.  For example: Your husband asks for aftershave?  Join a men's-only billiards club to win him a posh portmanteau instead!  Supermarket sold out of Tofurkeys for your vegan sister?  Cobble one together out of glazed doughnuts!  Schooled by a snooty browser in your best friend's gift shop?  Make up a Scandinavian word so intriguing that your friend emblazons it upon a whole line of tchotchkes that sell like hotcakes (and catch the not-so-forgiving eye of a Finnish official)!  Mixed with Becky's usual cringeworthy consumer hijinks, these misadventures and others add up to one heady holiday cocktail.  Of the hot pink umbrella kind, of course. 

It's no wonder that I'd rather be Rebecca Bloomwood than Marie Kondo.  But here's a secret: I'm more like Marie.  True, I'm not a great housekeeper.  But I'm organized and responsible and I like to plan things (ugh, I know; that sentence is about as tasty as wheat germ).  That's why I love to read about Becky and other free-spirited heroines.  It takes me out of my rigid self and reminds me that I can be freer, too.     

Note to self: Hang on to that alligator back scratcher.

Monday, January 6, 2020

Happy Cappy: A Birthday Tie Dye For

 Top to bottom: Wild Fable, Target; Elizabeth and James, Kohl's; Rebellious One, Macy's


 Crown Rules Necklace

Posh Perch Necklace 

Fuzzy Wuzzy Woodland Necklace 

They say that tie-dye is trendy again, begging the question: Where has it been all this time?  In the back of a VW van?  Or, in the closet of some '90s teen next to a lunchbox overflowing with baby barrettes and a cracked copy of No Doubt's "Tragic Kingdom?"  Tie-dye does sound a lot like To Die For, that mid-'90s flick where Nicole Kidman would rather be a murderous weather girl than have Matt Dillon's baby.  Still, I vote for the van.  It sounds mellower.   

Regardless of where tie-dye came from or when it came back, I opted to wear one of my new tie dye tops for my birthday.  Yep, thirty-eight years ago today, I came into the world looking, I imagine, every bit as bewildered as I do here on my kinda-sorta-but-not-quite-tie-dye rug:


Back then, my mom used to tape bows to my tiny, hairless head.  Maybe that's where I got my love of accessories?  Anyway, much like tie-dye, birthdays make you think about where you're going and where you've been.  And I can honestly say that I'm a lot happier at thirty-eight than I was at twenty-eight or eighteen.  Partly because I'm more settled, partly because I'm more confident.  

And partly because I've got a bigger closet.      

As a Capricorn goat, it takes me a long time to get where I'm going.  But I've always been equipped for the climb.  Which makes me wonder what the next ten, twenty, or even thirty-eight years will bring.

Hopefully, pizza.  And a No Doubt reunion. 

Sunday, January 5, 2020

Imperfection Connection: Small American Rejects


Top: Bongo, Sears
Skirt: Vanilla Star, Macy's
Shoes: Betsey Johnson, DSW
Bag: Sleepyville Critters, Zulily



Sweater: Candie's, Kohl's
Skirt: Hollister, Marshalls
Shoes: Madden Girl, Macy's
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Marshalls
Pink bracelet: Belk's
Blue and marigold bracelets: Cloud Nine
Hair tie: Riah Fashion, Zulily
Hair clips: Kohl's


Top: Marshalls
Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Modcloth
Boots: Simply Vera, Kohl's
Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Sometimes I don't like the pictures I take.  So, I end up deleting them by the dozen.  Still, some of these runners-up have a glint of something that says, "Don't discard!"  So, I file them in a folder marked "mishmosh" and let them marinate into candidates for another week, month, or year.  And that's where I found the images for today's intrepid triumvirate.  If they look familiar, then that's because they're less stellar variations of outfits I've posted before.  And if you're thinking, "Um, I don't see anything wrong with these," then I'll kindly ask you to consider that tiny pimple/freckle/growth below your left eye.  You know the one.  You obsess over it daily and think about ringing your friendly dermatologist to give it a proper Viking funeral.  (The only thing stopping you isn't the thought of burned flesh, but your dermo's not-so-tiny fee.)  Yet you needn't worry.  Because although to you it's a mountain, no one else notices it.  They're too busy obsessing over their own, ahem, molehills.  Except for maybe that creepy crawler stalker of a gas station attendant who stares at you every Friday.  But he's got a goiter the size of a grapefruit, so what does he know? 

Speaking of things that are imperfect but lovely (you, that is, not goiter guy), take a look at this tree:


You may remember it with me posed in front.  Only then it was a-flower with summer's white lace and fall's purple frills.  Now it's brown and withered and more paper bag than ruffly dress.  But the last time I really looked at it (I can see it from my kitchen window), I couldn't help but think how striking it is against the cerulean sky.  Like an earthy sweater vest over a robin's egg blue blouse on the wacky neighbor on a '70s sitcom.

A sweater and blouse combo that are so arresting, may I add, that the neighbor's lazy eye escapes you completely.

So here's to lazy eyes and not-so-lazy sweater vests and the real and fictional people who wear them.  May the sun never set on your splendor.  And may your eye patch never clash with your loafers. 

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

One Year More and Beads Galore


A new year means new adventures -- and new necklaces!  And one of the best things about making new necklaces is the supplies.  Here are some bits and bobbles I've amassed recently.  Some are craft store scores, others are jewelry clearance rack rescues, and a few are from my sister's supply stash.  "Take what you want," she told me, "I'm just never going to make jewelry."  So I did.  (I left behind a David Lee Roth button, which she then disposed of.  Both of us now regret it.)  I like looking at it all and imagining what it'll become.  Will the finished pieces best suit a hippie or a harajuku lover?  A fairy tale fan or an '80s enthusiast?  Or some magical mash-up of all these personas?  There are no limits, like a no-holds-barred, never-ending, grown-up game of dress up.  And that's what I love. 

Boho-kawaii pop princess (could've been prince, sorry, David), suit up