Rebel Romance Stance: Hearts and Glowers

Romance Rampage Necklace

Sweater: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Hollister, Marshalls

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Modcloth

Belt: Kohl's

Barrette: Carole, J. C. Penney's

Red bangle: XOXO, Ross

Strawberry bangle: B Fabulous

Today may be Presidents Day, but here at the Trove we're still having a fling with Cupid.  Sorry, Washington and Lincoln.  Maybe you should've swapped the wig and mole for diapers.  Also, I know that Cupid's a baby.  Which is weird.  But I won't overthink it if you don't. 

Anyhoo, I'm super excited about this Romance Rampage Necklace.  As if you couldn't tell from this pic where I'm wearing it.  (Hey, I had to test it and make sure that the beads didn't go rolling down the movie theater aisle, sending popcorn and grannies flying.)  Brace yourself -- this is the part where I get all saleslady-like and poetic:

A-twitter with red and pink hearts, a big red rose, and an abundance of glitzy rhinestones, the Romance Rampage Necklace is a cluttered cliche of love tokens, a bouquet of Valentine dream date delight.  

See?  It's a regular greeting card store explosion.  Just like the movie Isn't It Romantic.  

I probably shouldn't even bother to exclaim SPOILER ALERT! because if you've seen a rom com ever, then you already know everything I'm about to say.  But you know.  Politeness.  

I saw Isn't It Romantic yesterday, and it met all my expectations of what a snarky-sweet-spoof-of-slash-homage-to-rom coms should be.  Natalie (Rebel Wilson) is a big girl trying to find love in a little girl's world.  (By the way, isn't Natalie a lovely name?  Despite what that sod Blake says.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.)  Scratch that.  Natalie's not actually trying to find love.  She's trying not to find it.  And it's all because of her mother.  (Well, and society.  But mostly her mother.)  As a kid, she loved romantic comedies.  Then, one day, she's watching Pretty Woman, all but hypnotized by that scene where Julia Roberts accepts Richard Gere's invitation to stay for the week while cackling in the bubble bath, when her mom's all, sorry not sorry, happy endings aren't for girls like us.  Fast forward twenty years or so.  Natalie's a gifted but undervalued architect living in a tiny New York City apartment with a mangy mutt and a bunk bed.  The only bright spot is her friends, which include her rom com-loving assistant, Whitney, and her nerdy but well-meaning work pal, Josh (Adam Devine).  Yet despite their support, Nat's a negative Nancy (Natalie?) who looks at life as a cruel joke.  The one time she takes Whitney's advice to be more open she gets mugged.  Then she bumps her head and plunges into a dream/coma/parallel universe (because in movie land, these are all the same) where her dingy world is filtered through rose-colored glasses.  She's got the gay best friend, the massive closet full of every shoe she's ever wanted, and the fancy job complete with the nemesis (Surprise!  It's a catty Whitney.).  Not to mention a gorgeous guy all but stalking her in a swoony, benign, and rom-com-friendly way.  You know, as opposed to the kind that inspires restraining orders.  His name is Blake (of course), and he's played by Liam Hemsworth (double of course), and he just happens to be the hotelier bigwig that Natalie's architecture firm is trying sooo hard to woo.

Other rom com tropes flourish like kudzu (or, er, long-stemmed red roses).  There's the adorable act of gentle lawbreaking in the name of spontaneity (Was that a siren?  No matter!  Time to skip off to the next twee event!); the hero's confession of something awful that makes him seem more human (His favorite ice cream is butter pecan!  And his second favorite is rum raisin!); the other woman who's perfect and gorgeous; the unrealized love for the dorky best friend; the stopping of the big wedding; the heroine's realization that the hero is actually a heinous scumbag just out to use her for his own selfish gains . . . 

And finally, at the end, the cherry on top of the strawberry sundae -- the heroine's epiphany that the best romance is the one you have with yourself.

Wait, what?  That last one isn't part of the genre!  The heroine is almost always a prize to be won by a guy -- not the scumbag guy, that part checks out -- but the dorky guy who really deserves her!  Hmm.  Well, that happens here too.  But not before Nat realizes that 1) she doesn't need anyone else to complete her (take that, Jerry Maguire) and 2) that her male neighbor really is gay.  Turns out that all those girls coming out of his apartment were just there to buy weed.      

So, Natalie sees that her real life, bunk bed and all, is better than the glossy dream version.  Because it's hers, and no one is trying to change her name.  (Georgina?  Really, Blake?  It's not like your name is so great.  Also, it rhymes with fake.  Coincidence?  I think not.)  And yes, Natalie and Josh do get together.  And all of these things are a cliche, but that's okay.  Because cliches are cliches for a reason.   

It's like they say -- the road to true love never runs smooth.  Or gets past the first mile marker without breaking out into a flash mob.  So, here's cheers to a beautiful story about two people accepting each other.  Moles and all. 

'Cause I got you, Abe.  Georgie, better luck next year.