Hang Ten: Surf's Up, Santa Jaws

Top: Rampage, Macy's
Skirt: Decree, JCPenney
Shoes: Delicious, Zulily
Bag: Modcloth
Sunglasses: Michaels

Clover and Blueberry Gem Earrings 

Circle Gets the Square Sparkle Earrings 

Grape and Orange Gem Earrings

Originally, I was going to post just five pairs of embellished oval earrings, making for a dangling, dazzling display of (ahem) deca-dence.  Then these Christmas balls (lower right; you can barely see them, but trust me, they're there) muscled their way in, shouting, "Make way for Santa!  Summer's over, you beach bum bottom feeders!"  So, six pairs it is, for a total of twelve twinkling trinkets spread across a Rampage top that cavalierly commands, "Never Stop Shopping."

Such is the force of Black Friday, butting into the quaint, quiet harvest holiday that is Thanksgiving before the turkey's even cold, like some buttinsky uncle shooting peas at Grandma from the wobbly chair at the kids' table.  Not that I was without my own (metaphorical) veggie grenade.  I was out there with the crazy shoppers, although my mission began at the crack of noon instead of midnight.  Bargains were snagged, gift lists were hatched, and, despite my aforesaid snarkiness, I found myself caught up in the excitement of the season.  So much so that I popped back into Marshalls the following Monday to check on some pastel potted cacti with happy faces (which were, in my mind, earmarked for my Arizona room, a.k.a. sunroom-slash-office.  Hey, houses need presents, too.)  But, alas, when I reached their perch between the candied orange peel and metallic gold deer heads, only one was still waiting for me.  Which was no surprise, cacti being, like Hansel, "so hot right now."  Besides, this was what-will-you-find-today-Marshalls, not the Smiley Succulent Emporium.  Although come to think of it, a store like that's not a bad idea.  Except it should be called Oren's Oasis, with Oren as a saguaro cactus wearing a cowboy hat and a rakish grin.  Both on the sign and in costume.  Now, who has the gravitas and comedic chops that such a complex role demands?

I'd better start saving up to pay Owen Wilson.

Buffet Runway: Fall Flush Rush for Thanksgiving

Dress (as a skirt in second set of pics!): Xhilaration, Target
Top: Lily Star, Target
Shoes: First Love by Penny Loves Kenny, JCPenney
Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's
Bangles: B Fabulous
Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's
Headband: Michaels

 September Sunset Necklace

Throwback Throne Necklace

Thanksgiving means turkey and cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie with all the trimmings.  For me, it also means a new outfit, which means a new necklace -- or two.  I was also tempted to make a cornucopia-themed Carmen Miranda headdress but blew my craft supply budget on plastic fruit and desserts for my kitchen.  One fake food priority at a time, I guess.  Anyway, the big necklace is called September Sunset because it's a nice harvesty yellow and orange and November Sunset doesn't roll off the tongue.  The little necklace is called Throwback Throne because the cameos and old-timey ice cream parlor chair are retro  -- and because a chair made for downing ice cream is a modern-day throne if ever there was one.  Well, other than the toilet (although I have a necklace somewhere with one of those, too).  Finally, the dress is from Target.  It was a $14.99 clearance rack steal that said "Little House on the Prairie" goes to the city.  Which is, as you know, a look for which I'm always striving.  The only problem was that the necklaces kind of blended in with the floral print.  But no matter; I just whipped out a turquoise top, and presto change-o, a whole new photo shoot shot.     

Yep, Turkey Day fashion has more game than meets the pie.  And I don't mean football jerseys and big, stretchy pants.  I'm talking about the beaded rainbow splendor of the Native Americans, the very forefathers (and mothers!) of free-spirited flair.  The Pilgrims' drab garb paled in comparison, all black and white starch and obtrusive belt buckles.  No colors in their wind, my friend.  Unless the Aldens OD'd on succotash and got an unpleasant surprise on their way to the leaf pile.  Hmm.  Looks like I circled back to toilets.

Here's hoping that your Thanksgiving was full of fantastic fashion, family, and, of course, food.  And minimal bathroom malfunctions.  

Best Western: These Boots Were Made for Squawking

 Willa Western Necklaces

Tee: Kohl's

Skirt: Celebrity Pink, Macy's

Boots: 2 Lips Too, DSW

Scarf: Boscov's

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Green bracelet: Parade of Shoes

Beaded bracelet: Plymouth Plantation Museum

Green ring: Claire's

Orange ring: Gifted

Barrette: The Tote Trove

 Toothy Triumvirate Necklace

Dress: Lula Roe

Shoes: Nine West, Marshalls

Bag: Olivia Miller, JCPenney

Silver belt: Boscov's

Turquoise belt: Mixit, JCPenney

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Royal blue bangle: Kohl's

Turquoise bangle: Mixit, JCPenney

Flower bangle: Mixit, JCPenney

Barrette: The Tote Trove

Snazzy Steer Necklace

Top: Xhilaration, Target

Skirt (a dress!): Target

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: JCPenney

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's 

Sometimes you want to feel country but not be country . . . which is why they made glamping.  At least that's what it says in Sophie Kinsella's My Not So Perfect Life, a novel about a farmer's daughter masquerading as a city slicker.  Because if there's one thing that books and movies tell us, it's that people always want to be something they're not.  For example, sometimes I dress like a cowgirl even though I've always lived in New Jersey.  I realize that this makes it sound as if I want to be a cowgirl, which I do not, cow patties and stunt riding being a mall parking lot away from my wheelhouse.  But once in a while it's nice to enjoy the trappings -- and the rhinestones.  The result is always a Halloweenish, Hollywood version of what I think a cowgirl should look like.  Kind of like when Ree Drummond (yes, that Ree Drummond, of Pioneer Woman fame), dons her gussied-up version of dressed down to meet her boyfriend's parents for the first time only to find them in old clothes, giving her the once-over.  (In case you're wondering, this vignette isn't from Ree's Food Network show, but rather her memoir-slash-origin-story, Black Heels to Tractor Wheels: A Love Story.)  Ree's experience resonates with me because it makes a strange sort of sense.  Having style is -- despite what the fashion rags say -- defined as the dreaded trying too hard.  Fashion is frivolous.  If you're putting in the time to look a certain way, even if that way is I-couldn't-care-less-and-rolled-out-of-bed-like-this, then the jig is up.

But back to western wear.  Or should I say flair?  Or maybe even square . . . as in, dancing.  No, definitely not that one.  Too many flashbacks to fourth grade music class and the grand drama of being paired up with the class Casanova or the kid who always smelled like old cheese.  So, flair it is!  And I troweled it on when making these necklaces.  Impractical, kitschy, and showy, they're everything that a no-nonsense country girl isn't -- and still somehow capture her essence.  And who knows?  Maybe that girl is sick of wide open spaces and stores that only sell chicken feed.  Maybe she wants to light out for the city and kick up her heels and wear something sparkly, Bessie and her bum udder be damned . . .

Okay, time to rein it in.   Let's peruse a few pics of ranch-friendly stuff in my suburban-New Jersey-estranged-from-Mr.-Ed house, shall we?  I don't know about you, but I think a little frontier flavor makes any house homier.

And hits the spot when you want something western that isn't an omelet.   

 A painting I got for $5 at Kirklands. 

 Cacti and birdies, a.k.a. the "squawkers." 

Sunny side up with sunflowers. 

The Tortoise and the Hair: Slow and Steady Wins the Lace

Top: Mossimo, Target
Pink tunic: Miken, Marshalls
Skirt: Mossimo, Target
Shoes: Penny Loves Kenny, Zulily
Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's
Belt: Hand-me-down
Bracelets: Cloud Nine
Rings: Delia's

Sparkly Circles Barrettes 

Rainbow Reptile Necklace 

 Dazzling Dog Tag Earrings

When I was a kid, I was confused by tortoiseshell.  It didn't look anything like its namesake reptile, but more like a leopard or a puddle of Coke with raisins incongruously mixed in.  Still, I liked it.  It had a timeless, simple sort of glamour that made otherwise ordinary combs, sunglasses, and barrettes seem sophisticated.  So, when I saw these tortoiseshell circle barrettes, I was immediately inspired to put my own stamp on them in the form of Swarovski crystals.  Because accessories this delicate call for something more refined than mere rhinestones.  The result was part princess part disco diva, and I liked it so much that I kept going, hunting down other turtle trinkets that I could embellish.

Speaking of turtles, here's a shot of the official mascot of this post.  I lured him from his perch on my bookshelf with promises of fame and fortune (okay, insects), and once he got in front of the camera, he was hooked, hamming it up with with all of the gusto of our old friend Tammy (who is, by the way, residing comfortably in her new quarters.  But more on that later).   

That said, let's talk about this top.  I've shown it backwards because that's how I first put it on.  The "real" front is plain except for a little keyhole.  (Also, there's no pink.  That's another lace top.)  I blame Target, as this is the way they displayed it.  Then again, it seems like they've suffered enough, as they still have a rack full, reduced to half price.  That's when I nabbed mine, as gleeful as a gazelle tracking a fresh crop of grass shoots (hey, no one said success had to be bloody.)  I may not always know a blouse's front from its back, but I could bargain stalk in my sleep.  Anyhoo, turns out I like the ruffle in the front.  It has a kind of Victorian-lady-meets-Dolly-Parton feel with a 1970s twist when teamed with the tortoiseshell.  Plus, it makes a great frame for necklaces.  Mr. Turtle liked it, too; I know because he was nibbling it post-shoot.  I think he thought it was albino lettuce.

I guess shopping and life aren't all that different.  Slow and steady wins the lace.  At $9.99.  Unless you're supermarket sweeping your way through the express lane or something and set off a sensor.  Which, now that I say it, doesn't make any sense.

I think this one got away from me.