Memorial Day: Memory Lane and a Mushroom

Bag: Amazon

Top: Wild Fable, Target; Dress: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Wild Fable, Target; Ribbons: Michaels

Shoes: Jessica Simpson Collection DSW

Bouquet: Michaels

I can't believe it's already Memorial Day!  I couldn't think of a better way to kick off this unofficial first weekend of summer than by reading beach book queen Elin Hilderbrand.  Endless Summer is a collection of short stories, extra chapters, and alternate endings to some of Hilderbrand's most beloved novels.  I very much enjoyed this, in Hilderbrand's own words, Choose Your Own Adventure approach to fiction.  I especially liked the extra chapter for Golden Girl, which reveals heroine Vivian Howe's ups and downs at the famed Bread Loaf Writers' Conference.  Her struggles undoubtedly mirror Hilderbrand's own at the Iowa Writers' Workshop, and I loved seeing this glimpse of what it must've been like for one of my favorite authors to become the consummate storyteller we know today.    

Of course, it wouldn't be a holiday without festive fashion too!  For yesterday's family BBQ, I donned last year's never-before-worn, fruit-print LC Lauren Conard dress and my brand-new Jessica Simpson wedges.  The wedges' height was just what I needed to lift the (on me) floor-dusting dress from the ground.  The mushroom bag is an oldie but goody -- although a poppy would've been more appropriate.  Maybe I can find one before next Memorial Day and reenact my holiday hitchhiker pose.

I hope your weekend was filled with things that you love, setting the tone for a sensational summer! 🌞🌈

Fate Gate: Written in the Scars

In the midnight hour . . .

At the stroke of midnight . . .

Before midnight . . .

Pop culture is rife with allusions to what happens when night melts to morning.  Billy Idol, Cinderella, Ethan Hawke, and countless others have spun or starred in stories about the mythology of the witching hour.  So I knew that Matt Haig's novel, The Midnight Library, would be, if nothing else, mysterious.  Which is always nice around Halloween.  I heard about it on Ivy's Closet, and I don't take librarians' reading lists lightly.  Billy Idol, not so much.  Although I am a fan of '80s pop rock.  And comic relief.  

Anyway, The Midnight Library is the story of Nora Seed, a multi-talented but depressed thirty-five-year-old caught between life and death in the purgatory of a library -- the Midnight Library.  The librarian is Mrs. Elm, an elderly sage who was Nora's high school librarian.  Mrs. Elm supplies Nora with the Book of Regrets, a tome listing everything she ever wanted to be, including a rock star, an Olympic swimmer, and a philosophy scholar.  Nora picks a regret, then opens the corresponding book to live the life she thinks she missed out on.  Sometimes she stays minutes, other times days.  If it's the right life, then she'll end up staying forever.  But if it isn't, then she'll return to the library to try again.  So, yeah, it's the whole parallel-universe-space-time-continuum-butterfly-effect thing.  Which I could've better explained by saying that Nora works in a music shop called String Theory.  

Nora's journey is fascinating, scary, and sad.  But it's also perplexing.  Because as she test drives more and more destinies, she begins to realize that they're as similar as they are different -- and that she's unsure what it is that will make the right one "right."       

Innovative yet familiar, The Midnight Library elegantly combines the best-loved elements of It's a Wonderful Life, NBC freshman drama Ordinary Joe, and every Choose Your Own Adventure book to deliver a sci-fi-tinged, timeless tale of gratitude and self discovery.  Rich in symbols and nuance, it's also a modern parable about the importance of mental health.  When I reached the last page, I was so engrossed that I didn't want it to end.  Nevertheless, the ending was perfect.  I wouldn't go back in time and/or across universes to change a thing.  

Unlike Billy Idol, who, according to Behind the Music, was caught with the nanny on the baby monitor. 

Wardrobe Wars: Jane of the Concrete Jungle

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, by Gabrielle Zevin, is one of my favorite books.  So I was excited to read another Zevin novel, and the one I chose was wonderful too, although in a different way.  (Also, the cover is cool.)  Young Jane Young is the story of a political intern who has an affair with a married congressman and how it upends her life.  "Ugh, sounds gross," you may be thinking, or maybe even, "Ooh, juicy, bring it on!"  (Hey, I don't know what you're into.)  But Young Jane Young isn't a salacious soap opera.  It's a thoughtful -- and yes, sometimes funny -- look at how society often paints women as villains, even when it's the men who are wrong.  Zevin tells Jane from the point of view of five women, and it isn't until the end that we hear from the intern herself.  On her very first day, she struggles to choose a professional outfit.  Her conundrum is relatable and angsty and sets the scene for the cautionary tale she becomes.

"You lay three options on your extralong twin bed: a black stretch crepe cocktail dress, a navy blue summer-weight wool dress that you fear might be snug as you haven't tried to zip it up in more than two years, and a white blouse and gray kilt combo.

If you choose the black dress, turn to page 4.

If you choose the blue dress, turn to page 5.

If you choose the white blouse and kilt, turn to page 11.

You choose the white blouse because you think it's the most professional, but then, when you put it on, the buttons strain across your breasts, creating eye-shaped gaps.  You don't have time to change.  You don't want to be late.  If you hunch your shoulders forward, the eyes mainly close.  . . . You sloppily apply red lipstick to your mouth.  You are not good with makeup because you rarely wear any.  When you went to your prom, your mom put on your makeup for you.  Yes, you know how that makes you sound.  You and your mom are close.  She's probably your best friend though you are not hers.  Her best friend is Roz Horowitz, who is funny and, in the way of many funny people, occasionally mean." (208-209).

The intern is vulnerable.  She's not some tramp out to trap a sugar daddy; she's a clueless coed who doesn't know how to dress.  So later, when her supervisor pulls her aside and tells her that her outfit is inappropriate, it's all the more wrenching.  And then, when she bursts into tears in the break room and the congressman comforts her, well, it's pretty clear who's out to trap whom.

I think Zevin tells us all this at the end so that for most of the story we see the intern through the world's judgy eyes.  By the time we find out how everything really went down, we're as jaded as everyone else, making the impact of the truth even greater.  Also, the Choose Your Own Adventure style, which Zevin carries throughout the intern's narrative, is genius.  It shows that the intern has choices but that she doesn't always make the right ones.  Because she bases everything on the sometimes compromised, sometimes simplistic moral code she grew up with, making her ill-equipped to deal with adult situations.  (To give you an idea, her dad cheats on her mom and she thinks that Belle should've picked Gaston instead of the Beast).  She's an idealist masquerading as a cynic who thinks that women have all the tools they need to do battle with men -- even when those men are older and more powerful.  So she has to learn that men and women aren't treated equally before she realizes that they should be treated equally and that that's what feminism really means.  It sounds straightforward but isn't.  Especially to those coming of age in "modern" times when everything seems evolved and okay on the surface.

Still, the intern may be down, but she isn't out.  Life may have knocked her around, but it's also made her resilient.  And so after we see her fall apart, it's favorite-song-on-the-radio inspiring to see her start to put herself back together.

When the intern is older -- and no longer an intern -- she goes to an important event in an outfit that makes her feel confident:

"You put on a red suit.  You spend no time making this decision.  You don't even consider wearing anything else.  The fit is perfect and you know it will photograph well.  You're older now, and you know what looks good on you." (293)

I love the symbolism in this.  It's no-nonsense and neat, a nonsexist way to show how clothes make the woman.

Finally, Jane has arrived.

Black and White and Dead All Over: The Flavor of Fare Far from Simple

 Woven Wisdom Charm Necklace

Top: POPSUGAR, Kohl's

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Delicious, Zulily

Bag: J. C. Penney's

Belt: B Fabulous

Barrettes: The Tote Trove

Hi, bloggers!

I called upon this corny old joke to talk an itty bitty bit about newspapers and a lot about a book-turned-movie even though I saw the movie first.  Of all the old-timey, misogynistic sayings about women, I think the one about how real ladies appear in the newspaper only twice in their lives, once in their wedding announcement and once in their obituary, is the weirdest and most insulting.  Insert eye roll for anyone who believes that a woman's purpose in existing is snagging a husband -- until she stops existing at all and is shoved six feet under.  It's like saying that women who speak up are shameful, that women's stories don't deserve to be told.  Which is, of course, utter nonsense.  Making our presence known in the world -- whether it be through a tabloid or Twitter feed -- is essential to women's well-being.  Which is something I thought a great deal about while watching/reading A Simple Favor.    

A Simple Favor (by Darcy Bell) is not a feel-good book.  It's kind of a feel-bad book, and I wouldn't have read it at all if I hadn't seen and liked the movie (directed by Paul Feig).  This is the premise:  Uber sophisticated and cool Emily (Blake Lively) befriends quirky cute people-pleaser Stephanie (Anna Kendrick) through their five-year-old sons in their sleepy Connecticut suburb.  Emily is married to a gorgeous British dude (Henry Golding) and does PR for a fashion designer.  She's a seasoned rule-breaker, a Hitchcock blonde who's easily bored and refuses to have her picture taken.  Stephanie is a widow who blogs.  She's a do-gooder supermom who bakes gluten-free cookies and apologizes for everything, a habit that alpha dog Emily insists she break.  If they were characters from The Baby-Sitters Club, then Emily would be Stacey and Stephanie would be Mary Anne.  Their friendship deepens quickly, with each revealing secrets.  Then, one day, Emily doesn't pick up her son from Stephanie's house, and what started as a tongue-in-cheek Peyton Place-type tale veers off into "48 Hours" territory.

Stephanie's blog (vlog in the movie) is, in many ways, the core of the story.  Being a blogger, I found this interesting.  I always like to know why people blog and whom they blog for.  For Stephanie, her blog is her identity, a way for her to showcase her stay-at-home-mommy brand and combat her loneliness.  She shares parenting tips, healthy recipes, and handmade friendship bracelets, beginning every post with a cheery Hi, moms! and signing off with a Love, Stephanie, suggesting that she and her fellow moms are all in this parenting thing together.  Yet despite Stephanie's efforts, she has few followers.  It isn't until Emily vanishes and Stephanie begins investigating Emily's disappearance that her blog becomes popular.  Solidarity, it seems, isn't as intriguing as sordidness.  Stephanie crafts posts that let Emily know that she knows she's out there.  She does so through subtext disguised as earnest grief and soul-searching, her posts becoming an echo of that old Mark Twain chestnut about fiction being the truth inside the lie.  As a result, her blog becomes more honest.  In exposing Emily, she stops apologizing, transforming this story from one of a runaway friend to one about the things we say vs. the things we don't, about the lies we tell each other and the lies we tell ourselves.

As I said, the movie and book are different.  The movie is funny.  It has a ring of mean-girl (and in one case guy) moms who serve as a sort of Greek chorus of Stephanie's torment, providing the all-too-real elements of competitive parents and PTA cliques.  The dialogue is spiked with dark humor that slices the tension, which is handy once things escalate.  The book, although a page turner, is umitigated by mirth of any kind and settles, stone-like, in the psyche.  Sometimes it's a little too creepy.  Also, in the movie Stephanie is likable.  Sure, (SPOILER ALERT!) she has a questionable, Flowers in the Attic past.  But she's kind and vulnerable and well meaning, and I wanted her to come out of this mess okay.  So, when she starts getting wise to Emily's ways and plans to break free, it's satisfying.  In the book she's a lapdog who never gets a clue, an unwitting (albeit willing) pawn in a game beyond her comprehension.  To this end, the most dramatic  difference between the movie and the book is that the movie ends one way and the book ends another.  And as everyone knows, the ending is the most important part of any story because it delivers the message.  In this case, the message is mighty confusing, a kind of Choose Your Own Adventure vortex of forks in the road.  One ending tells us that good triumphs over evil and also that life is pretty hilarious, so why not laugh at it already?  The other says that evil can never be caught, that's there's no escape from -- and no laughing at -- someone who's a sociopath.  I think that the ending you like says a lot about how you see the world.  Or, more to the point, if you see it through the eyes of an Emily or a Stephanie.   

But that's enough heavy stuff for one post.  Thankfully, this Woven Wisdom Charm Necklace lightens even the most somber of moods.  My favorite thing about it is how eclectic it is, the bold striped gumball beads contrasting with the bright tapestry charms and baby owls.  With so much going on, it was tough to find a top that would be a good backdrop, but this red POPSUGAR tee made it, well, pop.  That said, maybe Woven Wisdom isn't as far removed from this post as it seems, being complex and contradictory. 

'Cause what a tangled web we weave, when we practice to deceive.

Sorry not sorry.

Love,
Tracy