Thirty Years War Behind a Pink Door: Barbie Barkeep, Keep 'em Coming

When I found these World's Smallest brand Barbies and Barbie Dreamhouse on Amazon and Zulily respectively, I thought, that's weird.  And not just because the Barbies, Thumbelina-like as they were, were too big to fit in the house.  But because shrinking classic toys down to choking hazard size for the amusement of adults is funny.  The Barbies came in just two styles: 1965 Barbie, who's an astronaut, and 1992 Barbie, who reigns under the Rapunzel-esque title Totally Hair.  

1965 Barbie was, of course, way before my time, and I was too old for 1992 Barbie when she hit the shelves.  But my preschool had the same A-frame dreamhouse, albeit in orange and yellow.  So seeing its mini me made me nostalgic and had me clicking "add to cart" faster than you can say, "We girls can do anything, right Barbie?"  (Well played, World's Smallest, well played.)  

When the goods arrived, I saw that the dreamhouse came with decals of domestic doodads including curtains, shrubbery, and one long lounge chair that didn't seem to fit anywhere.  As I stuck them to the interior walls, my wrist at an unnatural angle, I couldn't help but think that the task seemed needlessly difficult.  Maybe the brain trust at World's Smallest wanted to make the experience as authentic as possible by transporting us back to a time when we were still struggling with silverware.  Then I realized that I could detach the cardboard, making everything easier, and felt kind of sheepish.  Which shouldn't have been a surprise, because it took a long time for five-year-old me to learn how to tie my shoes.  In that vein, "setting up house" also made me think about how far Barbie has come -- and how far she still has to go.  What would 1965 Barbie and 1992 Barbie say to each other -- and to us -- if they could?  This is what I imagine: 

1992 Barbie climbed out of the Uber and looked up at the pink dreamhouse.  A passing breeze ruffled her floor-length hair, and a squirrel almost got stuck in it.  She sighed.  Once, a seagull had become ensnared, its filthy feathers caught in her crimped blond locks during a freak nor'easter on Coney Island.  She'd been doing a photo shoot for Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow magazine, her very first modelling gig.  She thought she'd been big stuff back then, but it turned out that the only big thing was her hair.  Barbie 1992 sighed, ordered herself to shake it off Taylor Swift style, and tugged at the hemline of her too-short dress.  The squirrels didn't need to see her butt crack.

Before she knew it, she was ringing the doorbell, her heart going into overdrive.  This was all so strange, and she hadn't had time to process it.  But when the door opened, she was forced to tuck her thoughts away.  A woman sporting a spacesuit and a blond bob straight from the '60s stared back at her, a tight smile straining her face.  "You're late," she said.  Then she stepped aside to reveal a pink-furnished foyer and living room.

"I know, I'm sorry," sputtered 1992 Barbie, her feet hitting the glossy marble.  "There was an accident on the Santa Monica Freeway; a dog groomer's van overturned, and there were Yorkies and Shih Tzus everywhere.  Oh, and a pit bull that didn't make it."

Helmet Head nodded.  "A pity.  Let me show you your room so you can put down your things."  She paused, suddenly noticing that the newcomer was nearly empty-handed.  "Where's your luggage?"

Barbie 1992 looked down at her pink high-heel-encased feet.  "This is all I have," she said, holding up her handbag.  "Ken 1992 got everything in the divorce.  He wanted a second chance, but I could barely look at him after catching him in the '57 Chevy with Teen Sweetheart Skipper."

Helmet Head's ice blue eyes narrowed.  "Bastard.  You know, Ken 1965 died drinking a mai tai that turned out to be lava lamp liquid.  He left me penniless."

"That's awful."  Barbie 1992 tucked her hair behind her ears and sat down without being asked.  "I hope you don't mind, but my feet are killing me."

"Stop apologizing," decreed Helmet Head.  "It makes you sound like a child.  And you don't have to tell me about aching feet.  Why do you think I still wear these moon boots?  They're so comfy they're like walking on clouds.  I'm Veronica, by the way."

"Nice to meet you.  I'm 1992 Barbie."

"Not here you're not.  Every woman in this house has a name.  What do you want yours to be?"

1992 Barbie was quiet.  No one had ever asked her that before.  But once she relaxed, the answer was clear.  "Well, I've always liked the name Lila.  It makes me think of lilacs, my favorite flower."  Emboldened, she went on.  "I probably shouldn't be asking you this, but if you were an astronaut, then how did you end up broke?"

Helmet Head -- no, Veronica -- smiled again, this time with a hint of humor.  "I could ask you the same thing, Ms. Hair Model of the Year five years running.  How does your neck not snap from the weight of that mane?  Never mind.  We've got plenty of time to talk about it.  In fact, we have an eternity."  Her smile faded when she glanced out the window, as if it showed her something she didn't want to see. "Welcome to the Halfway House of Broken Dreams, Lila.  Now, what can I get you to drink?"

And so wraps the pilot of Real Barbies of Beverly Hills, sci-fi edition.  Because that, apparently, is the medium through which our dear Barbie chooses to speak.  

Be sure to tune in next time to find out who poured Ken 1965 that fatal lava lamp cocktail.

But not really.  I think we already know the answer to that one.

Geek Peek Seeks Tweak: Go Get Those Goggles, Cowboy

We all know that things aren't always what they seem.  For instance, lots of people think that guys who wear glasses have more brains than brawn.  But this sticker from Tools Plus that arrived with the husband's new sander or whatever suggests otherwise.  He saved it for me because he knew I'd like it.  And I do!  The bespectacled mop top of a cartoon man seems to be saying, I don't always sit around reading Lord of the Rings; I can work a power saw better than the more manly Property Brother.  Just don't tell my mom.   

I too received a mailbox surprise associated with eyewear.  A pair of children's sunglasses!  Now, I didn't know they were for children.  I ordered them from Zulily without questioning that small, heart-shaped sunnies with tiny pineapples printed on the back would be intended for anyone older than ten.  

But once I realized that they wouldn't fit on my face, I decided to wear them around my neck -- as a necklace!  Yes, some wire and rainbow beads later I had a one-of-a-kind accessory that looked as if it'd come from a claw machine or -- where else? -- a Jersey shore tee shirt shack. 

Because like those beloved '80s toys-turned-Michael-Bay-movie-mascots known as Transformers, anything has the power to become something else.  And -- yes -- be more than meets the eye.  

Well, except for gauchos -- the pants, not the South American cowboys.  

Those will always be awful.

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.

Ladies First Curse: Getting Ahead but Flirting With Dead

Cami: Mudd, Kohl's; Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's; Boots: Simply Vera, Kohl's; Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's; Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Hairpins, Rite Aid

Midnight Magic Necklace

One of the reasons I love blogging is that it gives me a chance to play with outfits I like but would never wear (for yes, there are some, even for me).  Just like watching TV gives me a glimpse of exciting but dangerous things I'd never do.  Enter today's Goth club kid ensemble and NBC's Good Girls. 

If you've seen Good Girls (or even a commercial), then you know that the dark dramedy, which is in its fourth season, is about three ordinary women who turn to crime when faced with financial hardships.  Set in a suburb of Detroit, it straddles the no woman's land between the mean city streets and the cul-de-sac.  Ringleader Beth Boland (Christina Hendricks) is a domestic diva and mother of four married to her high school sweetheart (Matthew Lillard of Scream fame).  Yet when she finds out that her dear Dean's serial philandering and financial mismanagement have landed them face to face with foreclosure, she's forced to expand her repertoire from baking to burglary.  Beth convinces her sister Annie (Mae Whitman), a wisecracking supermarket cashier, and their lifelong friend Ruby (Retta), a happily married but struggling waitress, to join her in her crime spree crusade.  But no sooner do they commit their first felony than they learn that they've trespassed upon the turf of career criminal Rio (Manny Montana).  Like it or not, "gang friend," as Ruby calls him, soon becomes a fixture in their lives.  Yet as Beth plunges deeper into Detroit's underworld, she discovers that illicit entrepreneurship is the road to not only financial freedom but the kind of fulfillment that she can't get from the PTA.   

Good Girls isn't all back door deals and social commentary, though.  It's also funny.  Annie slings some first-class zingers, and the situations in which the "girls" find themselves are often so ludicrous that you can't help but laugh.  Even the background music is French noir cute reminiscent of A Simple Favor.  Finally, there are more than a few Cloud Nine references, which are an Easter egg of a reminder that the dearly departed Superstore is a fellow Midwestern star in the NBC universe.   

Layered and nuanced, Good Girls is masterfully crafted to make you think twice about everything.  Like this unabashedly badass outfit, it starts off as starkly black and white but eventually reveals shades of gray.  And it's the gray that urges you to question the difference between right and wrong, to wonder what you would do if you too were caught in a catastrophic cashflow catch-22.  Just as it's the gray that makes this sensational story not only entertaining but familiar, becoming the silver lining we seek. 

Still, whenever Rio pops out from the shadows, I can't help but think that baking -- which I usually loathe -- looks pretty good.

Little Lion Lady

Each spring brings that great, age-old debate: are dandelions flowers or weeds?  Now, if you've been reading this blog for awhile, then you know where I stand on this.  Dandelions are firmly flowers.  Consider the evidence.  They're yellow and cheerful and look like small suns.  They pop up their heads at that pivotal time as the world's shedding its winter coat.  Finally, and perhaps most convincing of all, they're plant Transformers.  Just when you think that they're at death's door, they swap their golden petals for cotton candy crowns.  True, people aren't bringing bouquets of dandelions to dinner or wearing dandelion corsages to prom.  But there are few things sweeter than a little kid offering one up as if bequeathing a diamond.  

That's why the dandelion, or as I like to call her, the little lion lady, reigns supreme in my heart -- and on my lawn.  

She may have a name that sounds like Mumford and Sons.  But her roar is all Katy Perry.

Cheese Tease, More Please: Gobbling Up Green and Gold

Skirt: Dolls Kill

Rings: Mixit, JCPenney

Blouse: Candie's, Kohl's

Headband: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Unicorn Bow Necklace

Bangles, from top: Iris Apfel for INC, Macy's; Mixit, JCP; Amrita Singh, Zulily; Mixit, JCPenney

Top: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Skirt: Wild Fable, Target

Bangles left to right: Strawbridge & Clothier; B Fabulous; ZAD, Zulily; Ring: Mixit, JCPenney

Purse clip (really a barrette!): Plymouth Plantation gift shop; Bag: Nine West, ROSS Dress for Less

Sweater: So, Kohl's

Emboldened Arches Necklace

Scarf: a new day, Target

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Seahorse of Course Necklace

Tee: So, Kohl's

Bag: Amazon; Bag: B.A.I.T., Zulily

Blouse: Candie's, Kohl's

Ah, green and gold.  This time, the classic color combo isn't about the Green Bay Packers (although I do dearly love cheddar), but the way the sun filters down through the trees like so much Velveeta on broccoli.  Which is still, I realize, about cheese, or, more particularly, the romance between veggies and dairy.  Will artery-clogging, wrong-side-of-the-tracks cheddar break fiber-rich, prim-and-proper broccoli's heart, figuratively and literally?  Only time -- and an ER trip -- will tell.  

Green and gold aren't just star-crossed ingredients for a delicious if potentially deadly side dish, though.  They're also the main course of this outfit quartet.  Sure, the shades are more butter-mint-pastry than Cheeto-cruciferous.  But that doesn't make them any less theatric -- or tasty.  

Nevertheless, the real drama starts when cheddar cheats on broccoli with bacon.    

Two for Two: Giving COVID the Cold Shoulder

It's official!  The husband and I got our second COVID vaccines this morning!  Before arriving at the Atlantic City Convention Center, we stopped to get gas and saw a truck that said J-CORONA, with the Os filled in to look like suns.  Weird, huh?  Whenever I encounter "coincidences" like this, I know that everything's connected.  Anyway, as with my first shot, I wore a shoulder-baring top for easy access, although this one was more out-of-style cold shoulder than Susan Sarandon off-the-shoulder in Bull Durham.  I still love it, though (as I do the dozen or so others I'm still hanging onto).  

In other fashion news, the husband asked if I brought a cactus wristlet because I was getting pricked, and I said maybe subconsciously, as I carried a (different) cactus wristlet last time!  See?  Everywhere, connections.

Now that I'm fully vaxxed, it's great knowing that in just two weeks I can safely go out if I need or want to.  The first order of business will be scheduling all those long-overdue doctors appointments.  And then maybe, just maybe, I'll feel ready to reopen The Tote Trove!  Last week someone emailed me asking how long I'd be on break (it's been more than a year), and I said maybe until Memorial Day.  I've been updating my site a little, tweaking listings and weeding out the ones that seem past their prime.  It's strange to think about going back to the post office again.  A little scary, but mostly good.  I miss the thrill of seeing an Etsy Transactions email in my inbox, then drawing hearts and rainbows and cupcakes on a padded envelope and stuffing it with something I made that someone wanted.     

So, yeah, now I'm one step closer to rekindling the human element of this crazy arts and crafts venture.  Which is pretty exciting.  

Also, it balances out the mammogram.