The Desk Clerk's Day Off

Top: Candie's, Kohl's

Yellow flower clip: Capelli, ULTA; Coral flower clip: Kohl's

Necklace: Gifted

The Desk Clerk's Day Off sounds like a really good indie flick or a super annoying cartoon.  As with most things in life, my story probably falls somewhere in the middle.

Not long ago, I was dressed for a Zoom meeting when the husband said I looked like a Hawaii hotel clerk.  To be fair, I was behind my laptop at the time, and he followed it up by saying I looked very cute.  It was enough to make me want to capture this "throwaway" outfit -- or perhaps I should say half an outfit, because the bottom portion of my meeting attire is always pajama pants.  So after I logged off for the day, we took pics against this tranquil blue backdrop.  And yes, I'm closing my eyes in the last one to show off my not-quite-new mint e.l.f. eyeshadow: 

  

As for the hibiscus pics, they're from when we lived in Brigantine.  I must've known that I'd eventually need them for a tropical shirt shoot!

Finally, if I never know what the husband is going to say, then I definitely never know what he's going to bring home.  Check out these white plums and canary fruit he picked up yesterday:

He stylishly staged them on one of his handmade cutting boards.  Because artsy-craftsy DIY -- and self promotion -- run in this family! 

Oh man, maybe this is a cartoon after all.     

Sunday Dressed, Celestial Best: Playing at the Altar of Accessories

Bag: Dolls Kill

Shoes: Penny Loves Kenny, DSW

Tunic: Zulily

Fabulous Felt Pastel Celestial Barrette

Charm: Macy's

Bag: Amazon

Pleasant Crescent Barrette Brooch

Top: Modcloth

Skirt: Decree, JCPenney

Bag: Nahui Ollin

Top: Love, Fire; Macy's

Chockfull of Cheer Charm

The night sky may be a galaxy away, but Sunday best isn't far from the stars when it comes to an otherworldly wardrobe.  I refer, of course, to the heavenly stuff splashed all over today's outfits.  From the halo-wearing hearts, planets, and moons to something that I didn't catch until later, they all but scream celestial.  

Let me explain.

I was about to set up my usual neon poster board-backed flat lay (see above and almost any other post on this blog) for my accessories when I saw them scattered on this bench and thought, they look good, colorful chaos against the dark wood like stars in the night firmament.  Needless to say, I started snapping.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this (although I probably have, as I'm always repeating myself!), but the husband got this bench from someone who got it from a church.  That's right; it's been with us since Brigantine but started life as a pew.  So, the cross pendant being mixed in with this junk drawer jewelry jamboree -- which I, ahem, swear I didn't notice until after I came up with this post -- seemed like a sign.  

I know that wrangling clothes isn't a religious experience -- except that sometimes it is.  So if it's blasphemous to say that fashion's my faith, then I don't want to be right.

Garden Garments: A Shout-out to Shorts and Shrubbery

Whether you're sipping iced tea in an English garden or swigging from a canteen in an Amazonian rain forest, it's key to keep cool and look hot.  And what better way to do that than in shorts?

I'd like to take a moment to point out that there are many things wrong with the above paragraph.  First of all, I hate iced tea.  Secondly, trekking through the Amazon is not an endeavor to be launched on a lark, and no matter how hot it is, it's most definitely not one to be attempted in shorts thanks to snakes, malaria, poisonous plants, and other pleasure trip spoilers.  Finally, every woman knows that a miniskirt is way more comfortable and cuter than a pair of shorts.  (If you don't believe me, I couldn't help but sneak one in this post to prove it.)  That said, sometimes you have to sacrifice accuracy for the sake of showmanship.  No one ever promised truth in advertising. 

Now that that's over with, on to the plant portion of our program.  The first garden glamour shot is from my yard, the second is from someone else's yard (thanks to the husband who snapped it in Brigantine), and the third is from the Elizabethan Gardens, which the husband and I visited last August in the Outer Banks.  Because that's The Tote Trove way, giving you yesterday's news a year later.

Speaking of botanical wonders, here's an accessories shot featuring my new pink and rose gold Katy Perry sandals.  I love the term rose gold because it combines the two classically feminine wish list items of flowers and jewelry.  If they could cram a box of Russell Stover in there, then they'd be, well, golden.  Of course, in my case, they'd also have to change gold to neon acrylic.  Because that, not precious metals, is what makes up ninety percent of my bauble box.   

As I said, you can't trust ad copy.

Shoes: Katy Perry, Amazon

Bag: Glamour Damaged, Etsy

Yellow bangles: B Fabulous

Mint bangle: Decree, JCPenney

Purple bangle: Target

Ring: Express

Sunglasses: Amazon

Barrettes and necklace: The Tote Trove

And finally, from my gnome to yours, here's the dynamic ceramic duo that resides in my craft room.  I brought them outside to catch some vitamin D and to say hey to the critters:

And that's the long and short of it, folks!  Next time we'll ponder palazzo pants and this timeless query: resort leisure chic or sad sack pajamas?       

Fins vs. Skins: Hipsters Don't Lie

 Fantastic Flipper Necklace

Fairy Fish Tale Necklace

Top: Decree, JCPenney

Skirt: Marilyn Monroe, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Nordstrom

Scarf: A.C. Moore

Some years ago, I was at the Brigantine farmer's market with the husband, standing in line for mini doughnuts (just out of the fryer, they slid down this little metal chute that was the last word in cuteness), when I overheard a group of twentysomethings behind us talking.  They were extolling the virtues of salt water -- well, as much as anyone in a pork pie hat can extol anything -- saying how swimming in the ocean could clear up your skin.  As a lifelong acne sufferer, they had me at "clear."  So I was already listening when their conversation moved on to the market's offerings, one kid exclaiming, "Dude, they've got stuff here you never knew you wanted!"  I wanted to laugh -- or pull him aside and say, "Hey, I know where you can get some grade A JELL-O mold jewelry . . . "  But I did neither.  Instead, I enjoyed the silent, wise crack-rich commentary that only comes from eavesdropping.  And, of course, the not-so-silent part that came when the husband and I talked about it on the walk home.  

Still, it wasn't all fun and fried pastry.  Young Pork Pie was onto something when he alluded to the sea's peerless power.  Mysterious and bottomless, these waters wield a profound magic, the kind that has captivated sailors and storytellers for centuries.  Which is why I'm drawn to them and lived by them and made these here mermaidy necklaces.  (If Fantastic Flipper looks familiar, then that's because it's the fraternal twin of Whimsical Waters.)  Sparkly and blue, they're also ever-so-slightly old looking, which is just the right amount for wearable seaside souvenirs for people who've never left their couches.  

Finally, I can promise you that, unlike other stuff that comes from the ocean, no one has ever peed on these.

Not bad, huh?  Now if only they could get rid of pimples . . .       

The Nature of Reading and Rainbows

 Happy Hues Necklace

Cheerful Charm Necklace

Top: Macy's

Skirt: Vanilla Star, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag:  Uniquely Different, Etsy

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Michaels

Barrette: The Tote Trove

When I woke up this morning, I wasn't sure what to post about yet.  Then I checked my emails and saw that there was a new post from Samantha at The Big Hair Diaries.  It was about nature and, as always, fun and insightful.  So much so that it inspired me to go with the nature theme I'd been kicking around.  Which kind of involves a book that's sort of about nature too.

A few weeks ago, I read a novel by a new (to me) author, Jenny Colgan, called The Bookshop on the Corner.  If I haven't said so already, one of my favorite things ever is curling up with a good book -- or even a not-so-good book. Truth be told, I read lots of so-so books that I never blog about. But that's okay. Because I don't read to learn something earth-shattering, or even to be amused or moved. If the book is that special, then it's a bonus. I read because I need to. It's my way of unplugging from and connecting to the world.  And that's something I can get from even the most mundane plots and basic bitch characters.

Anyway, The Bookshop on the Corner is about a librarian named Nina who lives in Birmingham, (England, not Alabama) and is on the verge of losing her job.  She's amazing at what she does -- she always knows just which book to recommend to each person, and she has so many books in her apartment that they're threatening to break through the ceiling -- but the thing is, people don't need libraries anymore.  At least not city people.  So, she stumbles through an interview for a media specialist position even though she has no idea what that is and predictably loses out to a slicker candidate.  Then her roommate, who's had enough of Nina's literary hoarding, kicks her out.  So Nina digs deep and asks herself what she wants to do with her life.

And the answer is . . . run a bookshop.  When she sees an ad for an old van for sale in Scotland, she thinks, why not a mobile bookshop?  She goes up there.  It's scary.  The challenge of doing something new, that is, not the place.  The place is bucolic and calming.  And in many ways, the situation is serendipitous.  The locals, who are farmers with little in the way of stores and entertainment, are eager to have Nina, and she needs a place to live.  One life-defining van accident later (you didn't see that coming, did you?), Nina is comfortably installed in a surprisingly sumptuous guest house apartment, driving her newly christened The Little Shop of Happy Ever After to swap meets and craft fairs to the delight of everyone she encounters.  Sure, there a few bad apples, but for the most part, her customers are nice, and Nina wants to get to know them.  As a result, she soon becomes enmeshed in the town and its dramas, transforming her from a mousy spectator into a, if not mouthy, then self-assured star.  Scotland's peaceful, green countryside (not to mention its farm fresh bacon and eggs) is the antidote to Birmingham's harsh hustle and bustle, and being surrounded by nature invigorates Nina in way that the concrete jungle never could.  She looks up at the sky and wonders how she could ever have lived in a city or limited her dreams to its claustrophobic skyscrapers.

In the end, it is this cleansing power of nature, as well as the love of a gruff-but-kind dude (did I mention that there's a dude?) that leads Nina to -- spoiler alert -- just what she's looking for.  Which is, of course, lovely.  That said, I was struck by Colgan's reflective summation:               

"She had started with a van.  But somehow it had opened her up to so much more.  And now she wanted that real life that she felt she had been missing out on, that she felt other people got a shot at while she sat quietly in a corner being nice." (295)

  

The Bookshop on the Corner is a good story.  Simple and sweet and afghany.  Overall, I enjoyed it because it's about country life, new beginnings, and, most importantly, people who love books.  I look forward to checking out the rest of Colgan's canon.           

Like Nina (and Samantha), I believe that nature has an other-worldly and energizing-yet-soothing effect, encouraging us to open our minds.  Which is why I like to preserve it in pictures.  Here's one I took last fall of the Atlantic City skyline from Brigantine:  

And here's one of a dew-spangled spider web on my own front lawn just last week:

I don't have a picture of a rainbow.  But "rainbow" was a good way to round out the "r" in "reading" in this post title -- and to give a shout-out to LeVar Burton.

Also, I made these rainbow-y necklaces.

Mama Drama: Going Postal

 Whimsical Waters Necklace

Dress: Zulily

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: JCPenney

So last week, I received an email from a customer informing me that she still hadn't received a necklace that she'd purchased in March.  Needless to say, I was gobsmacked.  As always, I'd shipped the package within three days of purchase and emailed the customer the USPS.com tracking number to let her know that it was on its way.  True, I didn't receive a response or get Etsy feedback, but that happens more often than not, so I thought that no news was good news.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Not knowing what else to do, I logged onto USPS.com and plugged in the tracking number.  The red No Record Found that flashed on the screen made my heart sink.  There was only one explanation: the package had gotten lost in the mail.  In my nearly ten years of selling on Etsy, this had never happened.  I couldn't make the customer a new necklace.  The one in question was one of a kind, made from eclectic fabric flowers that I wouldn't be able to find again.  Instead, I issued a full refund along with my heartfelt apologies and the offer of a free item from my shop.  Thankfully, the customer accepted all of the above with grace and good humor.  Better yet, she loved the necklace she chose as her consolation prize, right down to the packaging.  Which meant everything to me.  When I send something across the country (or, once a in a while, across the world), I feel like I'm putting good out into the universe, and I want to keep those vibes going.

Still, I can't help but wonder what happened to that package.  Is it lying in an alley somewhere, pigeons pecking away at the illustrated envelope?  Or is some postal worker wearing the necklace to a summer shindig, margarita in hand, even as I type this?  In the future, I'll always track the package myself to find out if it reaches its destination, if only so I can contact the customer instead of her (or him) contacting me.  But the fate of this one will just have to remain one of life's mysteries.

In happier news, I saw Mama Mia: Here We Go Again last weekend, and it was fabulous.  So fanciful and colorful!  Plus, I always love a story with flashbacks, which is pretty much the whole deal with this one.  As you probably know, in the first Mama Mia, Donna's (Meryl Streep) daughter, Sophie (Amanda Seyfried), wants her father to walk her down the aisle.  The only hitch is, she doesn't know who he is.  He can be one of three guys (Colin Firth, Stellan Skarsgard, or Pierce Brosnan) that Donna wrote about in her diary.  So, Sophie invites them all to her wedding, they show up, and chaos ensues.  In the sequel, which is partially set in 1979, we return to the idyllic Greek island of Kalokairi to see a young Donna (Lily James) fall for her three handsome suitors and sing her (broken) heart out about it.  (As a bonus, we also get to see her buy her signature overalls at an outdoor market).  The air crackles with the delicious angst of young love in an exotic setting, and the songs play in your head long after you've scarfed down your popcorn.  Yet even more intoxicating is the sense of freedom and adventure.  Donna is an unapologetic risk taker, exploring the world fresh out of college without a plan or a safety net, bewildered by those who follow more well-worn and traditional paths.  And she's absolutely ecstatic doing it, even when her world seems to crumble.  It makes me wish that I would've done something like that at twenty-two instead of combing Monster for a "normal" job.  But then again, I guess it all worked out.  This strange little public diary of a blog is more my type of adventure.

Anyway, I stumbled upon a treasure trove of ocean-themed jewelry-making supplies not long after I saw the movie.  When I spotted these dolphin-shaped beads and the groovy druzy rock pendant, I thought, ooh those would make a cool necklace.  Beachy and boho and blingy and blue.  Just like Mama Mia!  

Speaking of beaches, here's a shot of the faux surfboard attached to the Conex box that is the Sol Berrie smoothie stand on the less glamorous but beloved island of Brigantine.

Bold and inviting, it's the kind of picture you want to dive into -- one dutiful hour, of course, after downing your smoothie.  Or, you know, thirty seconds after downing your smoothie, pineapple-mango froth still dribbling down your chin.

How's that for unapologetic?

Summer Fling, Don't Mean a Thing; Summer Ring, Means Everything

 A quick word about "Grease".  I don't know about you, but a little part of me died the first time I saw Sandy swap her poodle skirt for those black leather pants.  That said, I usually avoid endorsing stories about women abandoning their true selves to land a (and let's be honest, in this case questionable) man.  But my love of great tunes -- and yes, costumes -- won out.  My apologies, feminism.

That said, love affairs may come and go, but baubles are forever.  Which is why I'm ringing in summer with yet another rockin' ring from Samantha at PinkBopp.  You may recall that I've purchased other awesome rings from this chic shop in the past.  One is springy, one is wintry (ok, Christmasy), and the new one, which is called Lady in Lime, is summery -- perfect for today, the first day of summer.  The fuchsia and lime really pop, and the tiny crystals remind me of morning dew (and Mountain Dew -- this ring being just the right shade of green!).  I wore it last week with a pineapple print blouse and friendship bracelet braid flip flops (and also jeans, lest I imply any Winnie the Pooh imagery).  Come fall I'll need an autumn addition to transcend the trifecta, giving me all four seasons.  So move over Vivaldi, '60s super group, and fancy schmancy hotel chain -- winter (er, autumn) is coming.

Speaking of summer, here are some pics to kick it off, from farm stand to sand.  And also, for some reason, cupcakes. 

Going green here at home in Galloway.  No better place for a ring than a "pond shop."

Beloved Brigantine Beach in all of its hotel room painting glory. 

The box from some pina colada cupcakes I baked a million years ago.  Yeah, I hang on to pictures.

So, soak up the sun and the slushies.  Because if school's out for summer, then school's out forever.
Especially if you're a beauty school dropout.

Which is, come to think of it, a pretty badass and feminist thing to be.

Moving to the Country: Good-bye, Brigantine

Tourist Trap Charm Necklace

Top: Macy's

Shorts: ELLE, Kohl's

Flip flops: So, Kohl's

Bag: Betsy Johnson, Macy's,

Sunglasses: Michaels

Barrettes: The Tote Trove

It's finally happened.  The husband and I bought a house -- and it's on the mainland.  Which means good-bye, Brigantine.  So I thought I'd commemorate the occasion with a little Presidents of the United States-and-Elton John mashup.  And, of course, a new Betsey Johnson handbag.  'Cause there are peaches a-plenty in the country (even if home is now kinda sorta a suburb), and Brigantine is equal parts peaceful and tempestuous.  Or at least its weather is, just like Marilyn/Norma Jean.

I also decided to make myself a souvenir send-off necklace using -- what else? -- key chains from the corner beach shop.  It's funny.  At a time when I was supposed to be getting rid of stuff, I found myself shopping even more, racking up shoes, tees, and cold shoulder dresses as if I were moving to Mars instead of a few towns over.  But the act of acquiring made me feel more armed for the journey ahead.  I guess it's like Cat Stevens sings in "Wild World":

"But if you want to leave, take good care
Hope you have a lot of nice things to wear"

You said (sang) it, Cat.  New clothes have a way of making life's transitions somehow smoother.

At first, I wasn't too sentimental about leaving the island.  Not being able to walk to stores, restaurants, and, of course, the beach would take some getting used to.  But I was too wrapped up in packing and jumping through mortgage hoops to over-think it.  Besides, I was looking ahead, more than eager to vacate a shoe box-sized rental that smelled as mildewy as King Triton's halitosis (maybe that, not Prince Eric, was why Ariel lobbied so hard for legs).  The move had been a long time in coming, and the new casa was roomier, more private, and best of all -- ours.  Also, it was vintage (if you can say that about a building), and I'd always wanted to live in a charming old (albeit restored -- let's not get crazy, now) house.  You know.  Something with more character than cul-de-sac.

So, I was all set to pull up stakes, no looking back.  Then I went to Acme to pick up a few last-minute things and started crying in the cereal aisle.  It suddenly hit me that it'd be the last time I'd ever go there, at least as a resident.  And although I always said it was creepy and overpriced and that the chicken was one step away from salmonella, the realization made me sad.  Partly because it reminded me of when the husband and I were first starting out nine years ago and we'd run to the store for something easy to throw together instead of a week's worth of groceries for grown-up meals.  Partly because there's something bittersweet about something being over, even when you know it's time to move on.  Kind of like the last episode of "Friends" (which also, by the way, made me get weepy).  I could come back to the island any time to walk the beach or eat at The Crab Shack.  But, like watching reruns of the Central Perk gang, which I can do any time, it wouldn't be the same.

Then, this past Friday, on the first day of fall, the husband and I signed on the dotted line(s) and officially became homeowners.  Which was exciting and scary and wonderful and made me realize that we were exactly where we were supposed to be.  And that was before I even started filling my spare room-slash-closet.

So.  If you don't hear from me in a while, then it's because I'm buried in boxes or fighting with Comcast or embellishing an old-timey mirror.  But that only means that bigger, better adventures and all things Tote Trove are just a few weeks away.

Until then, here's the best of Brigantine in pictures.