Silver Screen Dream: Reel Romance

Fabulous Felt Filmstrip Barrettes

Top: Candie's, Kohl's

Cami: Macy's

Skirt: Delia's, Dolls Kill

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Wallet: Betsey Johnson

Belt: Wet Seal

Necklace: The Tote Trove

Last week, I read a novel by a new (to me) author, which is always exciting.  It's called Waiting for Tom Hanks, and it's by Kerry Winfrey.  The main character is Annie, a Midwestern rom-com-obsessed aspiring screenwriter who's waiting for Mr. Right -- which, to her, means a guy like Tom Hanks.  (Quick aside.  Annie's fixation isn't as weird as it may seem.  I remember reading a Glamour article that said when women say they want Tom Cruise, what they really mean is they want Tom Hanks.  Of course, this was back before I gave up on magazines.  And before Tom Cruise jumped on that couch.)  But when Annie scores a gig as an assistant on a movie set, she collides, coffee cup in hand, with alpha actor Drew Danforth (meet cute, check!), causing her to rethink her plans for landing a self-deprecating copilot.  Sure, Annie has misgivings of the classic rom-com heroine's but-this-wasn't-the-plan! variety.  But she also has the classic feisty BFF who Will.  Not.  Let.  Her.  Squander this opportunity.  So, she and Drew strike up a friendship that turns into more.  Their rapport is surprisingly easy, which I didn't quite trust, as Hollywood is reputed to be something of a dream-crushing shark tank.  But I banished my inner cynic, choosing to believe that love could bloom between a girl who lives with her Dungeons and Dragons-playing uncle and a guy who gets paid to French models.  Drew encourages Annie in her screenwriting endeavor, going as far as to talk her up to the director.  It's sweet and nice and something that you wish could happen.  Still, their romance isn't without problems.  For one, there's the ever-present paparazzi (so pesky!), and for another, Annie discovers a secret about her dead mother's past (somehow, these things always surface).  It forces her to shake her fantasy -- i.e. all those things she thought she wanted -- to get to her reality.  Which, this being a rom-com, ends up being a lot like her fantasy anyway.

Waiting for Tom Hanks is breezy and quirky and has lots of heart.  And something Annie said stuck with me.  She loves rom-coms in general and Nora Ephron rom-coms in particular because they're not about everything being sewed up at the end.  They're about women finding a partner to help them weather life's storms.  It's not that the guy is the be-all-end-all.  It's that having someone along for the ride makes the ride easier.  And I think that's something that everyone - whether they watch rom-coms or sci fi or anime -- can agree on.

And now for a walk-on from my Fabulous Felt Filmstrip barrettes!  Black and yellow and solidly square, they represent any movie anyone wants to see.  I like that they have that old-fashioned, outdated tech look, like, say, a rotary phone or boombox.  I mean, no one wants a cute little likeness of an iPhone or Alexa, right?  Unless maybe it's a barrette of what Alexa's face looks like.   

I'll tell my people to get on it.

Rain Forest Ready (on Solid Ground)

 Happy Heartland Necklace

Dress: Modcloth

Shoes: Betseyville, JCPenney

Bag: Marshalls

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

 Fabulous Felt Jade Jungle Necklace

Dress: JCPenney

Shoes: Alloy

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

 Fabulous Felt Huge Red Hibiscus Barrette

 Fabulous Felt Huge Blue Hibiscus Barrette

Fabulous Felt Huge Yellow Hibiscus Barrette

Top: Marshalls

Skirt: Forever 21

Shoes: Frederick's of Hollywood

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Cloud Nine, Ocean City 

I don't mean an actual rain forest.  (Please.  I rarely leave the confines of South Jersey.)  No, this post is more about rain forest-inspired raiment, lush showers of shoes and bags and necklaces that make you think of the tropics from the comfort of your own yard (or couch -- hey, this homebody doesn't judge).  Then again, I did catch an episode of the Science Channel's How Do They Do It? last weekend (which is to say that the husband was watching it while I pieced together synthetic palm fronds) about gum harvesting in the Yucatan Peninsula, and the voice-over warned, "for all of its beauty, the rain forest is a dangerous place."  Truer words were never spoken, ominous announcer man.

But back to the topic at hand.  I've always wanted to do a post of solid outfits, no prints allowed.  Not only would it be a challenge (I've got a penchant for prints), but it would make my necklaces pop.  I often have this dilemma when dressing myself, drawn to the drama of dueling motifs and intricate accents.  (Forget about taking one thing off before leaving the house; it's more like, one more necklace?  Don't mind if I do!)  So here it is, clean color-blocking at its most minimal, the very voice (voice?  sure, why not) of restraint.

Still, I love a good pattern, especially a resort-ready one.  I recently saw a spread on (albeit subdued) floral fashions -- I think it was called "tropical mixers" -- in Real Simple magazine.  I really like Real Simple.  I realize that this sounds odd, given my love of extravagance (simplicity's less sensible but better kitted-out cousin), and at first I was surprised, too.  Sure, this somewhat matronly monthly lacks the colorful flash of Vogue, Elle, or Glamour -- even its pages are matte instead of glossy -- but it more than makes up for it with its abundance of human interest stories.  Readers write in to answer questions, such as, "What book most inspired you?"; there's always an essay about a personal challenge, some big, some small (one of my favorites is about a woman overcoming her fear of sleeping alone when her husband is away on business); and the advice column focuses on etiquette rather than beauty or dating.  Even the editor's note is delightful, and I never read those!  I think that what sets Real Simple apart from other women's magazines is that it focuses more on who women are than on who they think they should be.  Well, except for when it's firing off advice about being a more efficient cook and housekeeper.  As someone who subsists on pasta and clutter, such can-do directives really annoy me.