In which I help a nice girl at the Clarks store earn an excellent commission.

So, Saturday was another mall day, and I went shoe-hunting with my dear friend LittleH.  LittleH works with children, grumbles when shoe stores don't stock size five, and spent the afternoon being her hyper, excitable, distractable self, until she got tired and just went kaput (kind of like a pre-schooler).  She also bought cute gray converse and shiny purple flats.

I stocked up at a sale at the Clarks store, where things are just getting better and better.

Workwear - I've had my eyes on these for a while.

These look a lot less earthy on, and the arch support is incredible.

These aren't anything I'd ordinarily go for aesthetically, but I needed something not utterly hideous for serious walking days.  They're a new line, and totally amazing.  When I stood up in them, it felt like somehow not all my body weight was resting on my feet.

We were also told that Clarks offers a lifetime guarantee on their socks.  As in, you can buy two weeks worth, keep exchanging them as they wear out, and theoretically never buy another pair.  Yeah, that seemed weird.

What I did today (and yesterday).

Tastefully dressed young lady working accessories at Nordstrom: Can I help you with anything today?

Me: Yes.  My office is across the street.  Could you please convince me not to go there today?

Ok, actually, I didn't say that.  But I did imagine the exchange, and, knowing Nordstrom's deserved reputation for excellent service, I went thrifting instead of to work.

That's after spending an enlightening hour with the good ladies on the third floor, and an unusually large number of dollars on garments I don't intend anyone to see.  But it's all a very good thing.  And I was happy not to be the woman in the next fitting room, who was freaking out because she was four months pregnant and had already gained three cup sizes.  That just sounds painful.

After that, it was indeed off to the thrift shops.  Most of them I hadn't been to in a long time, and I wasn't missing much, as far as clothing is concerned.  There's one sizable Goodwill that seems to be the place where all the used clothing in the area (including mine) goes.  My timing was a little off - I got there late enough in the day that I wasn't up for the crowd - but I did find a couple of things:  an experimental floral skirt, and a geometric-patterned shirtdress that I would have modeled for you, but when I cut out the shoulder pads I realized it needed a minor alteration of one of the few sort I know I can do. 

Elsewhere: a scarf, a decorative belt in nice colors (I'll be lazy and wait for accessory week) and, at my local antique shop, a heavy, 3"-long gold cross that I hope doesn't make me look like a male gang member.

Recently from Target:

• Several of a nice style of jersey skirt.
  
• A bunch of mesh bags - mine had all gone missing.
  
• Oil sponge - I can't keep shoes polished for anything.
  
• A lighter shade of nail polish.  Something called "Iced Spice."  I keep my toes done in the summer, and last year was using a dark red shade that I like, but thought that something a little closer to neutral would be lower-maintenance.  

Speaking of nail polish I also picked up (at Walgreens) a nail polish pen:

Not that color, of course; mine is "Stone".  Tried it this morning, though I didn't do a very good job of it.  Definitely tidier, and did indeed dry quickly. 

I gave up polishing my fingernails a while ago.  My fingers are short and my hands not particularly elegant of form on the whole, so anything but a very light, neutral shade is extremely unflattering.  (Yes, nail polish can make you look fat.  Who knew?)  Also, I don't think my nails hold color very well.  I've never had a manicure last even 12 hours without extensive damage, even when I'm not working or using my hands at all.  So I clued in and quit. 

Also completed:

• Washing the makeup brushes.  (Cool water; shampoo; gentle massage; thorough rinse; blot dry; air dry on towel.)
  
• Cleaning (like, with cleaning chemicals) the inside of the medicine cabinet, which holds all the "every day" stuff.
  
  
  
  
  
• Sorting out the every day drawer, the space under the sink, and that shelf in the linen closet with all the spare products.  I have a very fixed routine, and the supply flow procedure is as follows:  when I start using the last one on hand, go buy two.  Everything can be bought in the same place.  Somehow, I managed to rid myself of an entire dishpan full of...I'm not sure what, but I have a lot more space under the sink now.
  
  
  
  
  
• Got sidetracked by the cabinet that contains the actual medicine, which had been attacked by something sticky.  Discovered enough cold medicine to stock a preschool teacher for most of a year.

Other things I've done, but will discuss later:

• Minor hair-related innovation; and
  
• Becoming perturbed by skin-care marketing in no fewer than three separate drug stores, and returned home to do some more research and wonder whether having a chemistry-based education is good for my sanity on days like this.

Little Engineering Mall Rats

Inspired by the issues in my last post, I took an exploratory shopping trip through the Escher-Maze Mall today with my friend S2.  For those just tuning in, the Escher-Maze Mall is one of the ten largest in the U.S. and is right across the street from my office.  Yes, this makes the commute interesting in December.  It derives its sobriquet from its maddeningly paradoxical architecture and a tangle of ramps near Macy's where there are always so many people walking in so many directions that you half expect some of them to be upside-down. 

I had a few things on the list from Week 2 piling and some mental advance work on Week 3, but the main goal was fact finding - figuring out what's out there these days. As befits two engineer chicks, our reconnaissance was highly methodical.  Starting at home base (the largest of the four Starbucks in-house), we proceeded counterclockwise for 2.2 miles and hit every appropriate shop open.  We were there for more than 6 hours - more than 8 with dinner (service was lousy).  I got a couple of things, which I'll save for my week 3 piles, but more importantly, came away with the assurance that there's nothing secretly hiding in there that would magically make my life simpler if only I knew about it.  This doesn't solve any problems, but is probably good for peace of mind.

I'm tired now.

Books are Entertaining

A rather dry statement, though hardly a surprising one for anyone who's known me for a while. 

Like Wende and SCB and doubtless others, I've hit the library shelves for resources in the spirit of Wardrobe Therapy.  So far I've learned that:

• It's important to wear clothes that fit you.
• Black is a neutral.
• You can save money by buying things on sale.

And so forth.  Most of the text is more interesting than that, but little of it more informative.  These books are clearly useful to people...but to people who've already read a dozen recent books on the same subject?  Right.  So why do we keep looking for more?

The same thing happens, of course, with all sorts of topics - decor and productivity spring to mind - which is why the self-help industry is such a cash cow.  And the then there are the quizzes, like we were discussing briefly at Wende's.  Does the average reader of Cosmo really need somebody to tell her that she's the kind of girlfriend who likes to get flowers for no reason at all?  I'm a little curious about what makes us do all this retracking - is it just entertainment, affinity, self-fascination, and/or inaction bias, or is there something more interesting going on? (I'm thinking probably not, but you never know.)

So, I was perusing these redundant books, and I finally asked myself, "What information do I actually want, here?" At this point, I know what I like, what looks good, what works, what I want, all that good stuff.  My primary issue right now is sourcing.

I understood surprisingly late that, for some women, shopping is something you do, something that regularly just happens as a part of ordinary life, akin to watching television or drinking coffee.  Silly me, all these years I've only been going shopping when I'm planning to buy something.  But I bet all those shopaholics have accumulated, along with their consumer debt, a body of knowledge that would come in handy.  When the question is how and where to find what you're looking for, familiarity with the course, so to speak, has to be an advantage.

So, other than a systematic and comprehensive inspection of every store in the mall every month, how do we get to the bottom of this?  There aren't any shortcuts, are there?

A Superfluity of Updates (Part 2)

5. Zeitgeist Photos:

Neither Belgian nor Polish.  I am Siamese, if you please.

Love the tongue.

6. Fashion Anecdote:

I went to the Escher-Maze Mall (it's right across the street...) Friday evening and, in the course of 30 minutes, was mistaken (by other customers) for an employee in three successive stores.  I don't know why.  I was there because I had determined some time ago that I ought to acquire an additional coat, and to diversify my outerwear in general.  I've been living in the Lands of Emphatic Winter since I was 18, and it finally occurred to me that, just as it doesn't make sense to try to wear the same clothes at 20F as at 60F, it doesn't make sense to try to wear the same clothes at -20F as at 20F.  I'd been putting it off for a while, but realized that if I didn't move soon there'd be nothing left in the stores but bikinis.  The problem was finding something that didn't have a hood trimmed in that German Shepherd-colored acrylic fur.  I did buy something down and purple and quite warm.

7. Current fascinations:

• The nature of joy (theologically speaking).
  
  
• Scientific Literacy and Innumeracy (Stay tuned - E-week starts on February 14. Which is also Valentine's Day, Chinese New Year, Presidents' Day weekend, Mardi Gras weekend, and the second full day of the Olympics - so very many things to celebrate!)

8. Mostly inexplicable subjects of recent dreams:

• Getting fired.
  
  
• Laundering twinsets (with disastrous results).
  
  
• Rear-ending other cars at stop lights every day for a week.
  
  
• Sleeping for six months straight, then waking up to discover it's suddenly August.
  
  
• Earning a second bachelor's degree entirely by accident.

Uh-Oh, She Went Shopping Again...

As unfeminine as it might be to say so, I have never once derived pleasure from shoe shopping. Being a genuinely difficult fit doesn't help matters - eventually I figured out that my feet are are on the wide side, but I'm beginning to suspect that the front-to-back proportions are off as well.

But that's not the main issue. A fleeting moment of self-analysis led me to take special note of all my reactions in the shoe store the other day, and I think the observations demonstrate that the problem is totally me.

Completely unacceptable qualities in shoes:

• Heels narrower than a pencil (everyone walks stupidly in these, even the women who think they don't, and who, ironically enough, are the people who seem to own the most pairs of the tallest varieties).
  
  
• Wedge heels.
  
  
• Heels so high they make seasoned runway models literally cry in fear.
  
  
• No heels. (Ballet flats in their contemporary incarnation have only just started to not look completely repugnant to me every time I see them, though I still think they look gimmicky, in a hipster kind of way. (I warm slowly to broad shifts in look.) And there's nothing "comfortable" about walking all day on a pancake-flat sole, actually.)
  
  
• Platform soles.
  
  
• Soles or heels trimmed in wood, cork, rope or straw.
  
  
• Soles or heels stylized in any way.
  
  
• Being made of plastic.
  
  
• Any use of acrylic.
  
  
• Having the appearance of snakeskin, alligator, leopard skin or fur.
  
  
• Having the appearance of being made of anything other than cow skin tanned in the conventional manner.
  
  
• Square toes.
  
  
• Elf toes.
  
  
• Wannabe Earth Shoes.
  
  
• Attempting to exude the kind of irony portrayed by wingtip-inspired oxfords with four-inch Cuban heels.
  
  
• Athletic details on shoes other than those intended for wear during actual athletic activity.
  
  
• Bows.
  
  
• Any decorative element reminiscent of a cartoon character or a tattoo.
  
  
• Any decorative element that would be interesting to look at if not attached to the shoe. (Think outsized buckles.)
  
  
• Requiring more than two hands to put on or take off. (You'd think this one would do it for anybody.)
  
  
• Requiring more time and effort to put on or take off than the rest of the outfit combined.
  
  
• Requiring any attention or adjustment while being worn.
  
  
• Requiring maintenance in the form of occasional polishing, yet being a color in which shoe polish is not manufactured.
  
  
• Pretending not to be a shower shoe when it actually is.
  
  
• The potential for being cute, "with the right outfit." (Any garment requiring that condition is terminally underqualified.)
  
  
• Being interesting.
  
  
• Being boring.
  

• Being attractive to my sister the blond artist (don't worry, she already knows).
  
  
• Not fitting.

Do a Google Image search on shoes. Close your eyes and click at random. I will bet you any amount of money that what you find, I will hate. And yes, for the record 99% of what passes on criteria 1-25 fails on the last item, but no, I'm not whining about it. Of course not.

Yes, these are ugly, but, sadly, they're not alone.

Now, this is where your average gentleman, were he granted access to my closet (a hypothetical situation if ever there were one), would observe that, for someone who has so much trouble buying shoes, I own rather a lot of them. I can only respond that:

1. By the standards of my sex and type, I really don't. Really.
   
   
2. Most of them represent some kind of compromise.
   
   
3. My personal style doesn't accommodate shoes that are significantly incongruous with the rest of the outfit, and the differences between men's and women's fashion are such that achieving a functional wardrobe with a single pair of shoes would be multifold more difficult for us than for them.

So between all that and the whole Stuff Wears Out conspiracy, I kind of have to go shoe shopping.

Silver Glitter Jesus

Hot Pink Flocked Jesus not your speed? No problem. There's a holiday line.

I looked closer, and they're coin banks. I don't know if that makes it better, or worse.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all.

More Christmas Catalogs

The latest batch of mail-order frivolity doesn't disappoint.

First, there's the paper catalog from Art.com. Web retailers crossing into print, or brick-and-mortar, isn't new - I recall getting newspaper circulars for Amazon several years ago - but it still triggers my nose-wrinkle reflex. It doesn't help that they've chosen to put in their paper catalog only those pieces of merchandise most reminiscent of those oversized printed canvases for sale in the wall decor department of Bed, Bath & Beyond. Where, in any house, does one hang a 28"x36" photo of Marilyn Monroe? Or a giant painting of a martini? Or a reproduction watercolor of agave?

The artist specializes in beverage depictions.

Then there's Levenger - Neiman Marcus for the bookish set. They're kind of an easy target, with their full-grain calfskin desk accessories, hand-planed mahogany lap desks, and bookends at $300 a pair. But they've always got something new and fun to look at, like:

A bronze penguin pen stand ($128)...


...bleachers for your index cards (cherry veneer, $58)...


...and, of course, a comic book graphic novel about...Winston Churchill.


I've also gotten an inordinate number of Eddie Bauer catalogs, but they don't really sell anything weird, unless you count the dude gifts (solar-powered radios, travel shaving kits, mini-multi-tools), but this time of year, those are pretty much everywhere.

The Christmas (Catalog) Season

One of my minor ambitions in life is to reach the age of 30 without seeing Christmas merchandise for sale before my birthday (late August). Only one more year and I think I just might make it.

Surprisingly, given the slow retail environment, the stores don't seem to be as far into it even now as they could be this late in October. And the catalog deluge has only just started this week. I like Christmas catalogs, because it's amusing to see the sorts of things companies are trying to sell me now that they'd never bother with at any other time of year. Like toys.

I had a conflicted relationship with Christmas toy catalogs as a child. I found them a sort of taunt, because they always contained things I wanted to ask for, but couldn't. Not because I wasn't allowed to ask, or because my parents couldn't afford to get me anything. I just hated asking for things. I thought asking for things made me look childish, which, as a child, I considered a fate worse than death. For someone who had an utterly trauma-free childhood and basically perfect parents, I was rather neurotic for a pre-teen.

My Sister the Blond Artist, on the other hand, devoured the catalogs with glee, asking for everything on every page, blissfully ignorant of the wreckage she was making of her credibility. How, at the age of five, she could dare be so careless of her reputation, my nine-year-old mind simply could not comprehend. I lamented to share a house with such dissolution.

Now, one of my favorite amusements is flipping through the Christmas catalogs in search of the most outrageous, amazing, or just plain cool loot on the scene. Which, if you don't mind, I'm going to share with you.

First catalog to arrive was from Oriental Trading Company. Inflatable is the word this year:

If inflatable manger floats, you could use it to put on a baby Moses play in the spring. Inflatable donkey is clever. Inflatable magi gifts are pretty weird.

OTC also featured lines of products emblazoned with the slogans, "Jingle with Joy for Jesus!" and "Sound the Horn, He is Born!" And, of course, it wouldn't be Christmas morning without talking Mary and Jesus dolls under the tree:

They recite scripture verses and "tell their stories." Fully posable, batteries not included.

Next up is the American Girl catalog. Now, everything AG is pretty outrageous. You can buy your doll a bathrobe that costs twice as much as mine. The one point of interest is the Just Like You doll, which I think has been around for a couple of years. You pick the skin tone, the hair color, the eye color, and get a doll that looks, well, just like you. Unless your mother suffers from Liberal Guilt (which doubtless she does, if she has the money to buy you an American Girl) in which case you get a doll that looks like the housekeeper. (Did I just say that out loud? Shame on me.) Anyhow, what I found interesting is that it's impossible to get a Just Like You doll that looks just like me. Red hair and green eyes is an unauthorized combination.

I always liked Molly's fashion sense best.

Once you have your doll, you can get her accessories, like (deep breath): a cell phone, an ipod, a guitar, a pony, equipment for snowboarding, skateboarding, volleyball, soccer, tennis, golf, cheerleading, ice skating, hockey, gymnastics, ballet, and karate, a treehouse, a typewriter, a wheelchair (and crutches, ace bandages and a finger splint), Ugg boots, love beads, and a wheelbarrow. Oh, and, like, clothes and furniture. You know, doll stuff.

Last catalog to date was MindWare, an educational toy supplier, where I found THE most AWESOME thing EVER.

Math Scrabble. I think I'm in love.

.

Hot Pink Flocked Jesus!

...for sale now at Borders.

A few more thoughts on fashion retail.

1. One unanticipated consequence of the current trend of un-clothing is that, if you happen to be in an unfamiliar department store and actually searching for the lingerie department, you might spot a garment from a distance that looks right and head towards it...

...and find yourself in "Better Sportswear."

2. Wilson's Leather sells dresses. Not leather dresses, ordinary dresses. Calvin Klein. It would have been nice to know that before.

3. From the "Secure Your Supply Lines" files: as I was walking into Target on Saturday for some essentials, I realized with mild chagrin that my entire outfit came from Target. I mean, that's just where I get things like shorts and socks and tank tops and headbands. I tried to collect my cat litter and toilet paper without looking too self conscious.

4. While doing some bookkeeping, I found the credit slip from when I bought my Austin wedding dress at Carson's. The dress appears on the receipt as, "MODERATE DRESSES." Is this the brand for which we've all been searching?

I know the secret!

The secret to fashion retail karma, it seems, is complaining loudly to everyone who will listen about how impossible it is to find anything to buy. In addition to you lovely ladies, I also whined about outfitting myself for the sauna wedding to two Boston friends on the phone, several people at Sunday lunch, all my coworkers, and my mother.

After work today I stopped at Carson's (it's right across the street...) for no discernible reason - I'd found no luck there last week, but I guess I didn't feel like going straight home, and, oddly, didn't have any reading material to take to the Starbuck's Conference Center. Turns out there was a whole section of dresses there I'd missed the first time around (not surprising in the particular layout of that store, which I don't visit often), and I found something there with an actual potential to work. Such a special occasion that you get an actual modeled photo.

Got the shoes there too, on steep discount. It doesn't look like the sort of thing that would be so hard to find, does it? I think it could stand to be accessorized with some color - any ideas?

I'll probably stop in at State Street Macy's/Field's* and big Carson's when I'm downtown for the book fair this weekend, but given that I found exactly one realistic possibility out of two dozen stores out this way, I'm not holding my breath for anything exciting.

*Check out the interior pics in that link. It really still looks like that, so it's always worth a visit when you're in the neighborhood. Marshall Field's was bought by Federated a couple years ago, so it's now a Macy's - meaning that Chicago's flagship Macy's has a ceiling by Louis Comfort Tiffany.

Phrases I never thought I'd use to describe actual objects in the real world, Installment 37

"cable-knit sandals"

I wish I'd taken a picture.

Things I didn't say aloud at the mall tonight.

(Yes, I did regain my ability to walk painlessly.)

• Cotton dress with poly lining - for those days when you want all the wrinkles, but none of the breath.
  
  
• You know, if I could ever muster the nerve, that strapless "dress" would make a great skirt.
  
  
• I hate this building. I didn't know Escher designed shopping malls.
  

• Note to designers: Seersucker. OR eyelet. Not both. That's just wrinkled embroidery with puncture wounds.
  
  
• Excuse me miss, do you carry this in Not Ugly?
  
  
• Has Macy's stopped carrying women's clothing during its remodel? That seems like a fairly bad idea. (They hadn't, but they did hide the department remarkably well.)
  
  
• Pardon me, high school girl, but has anyone told you that the micro-mini bubble skirt you're wearing with five inch spike heeled pumps and a Nirvana t-shirt looks like a diaper? Besides, Nirvana? You weren't even born yet.
  
  
• Ralph Lauren has gone colorblind.
  
  
• And Calvin Klein has decided that a good way to keep strapless dresses from falling down is to line the upper bodice with latex. Ouch!
  
  
• (At Macy's): That's a cute skirt...wait a minute, that's the dress from H&M. (I'm dead serious. It was the same item.)
  
  
• Note to designers: Just because you can make it out of jersey, doesn't mean you should.
  
  
• Ditto terrycloth. Ew.
  
  
• Why is this size 6 twice as wide as that size 12?
  
  
• Speaking of which, don't you carry any sizes other than 6 and 12?
  
  
• Never mind, here's an 18. Still with the multiples though.
  
  
• Talbots clerks have been hitting the Starbucks hard.
  
  
• Maybe if I scribble out the 1 on the 18, it'll fit...
  
  
• Note to designers: I don't care how short you make it; it's still a mu mu!
  
  
• Too Prom.
  
  
• Too short.
  
  
• Pink. (All pink is too pink.)
  
  
• Too mother-of-the-bride.
  
  
• WAY too Doris Day.
  
  
• This could have been Liberace's favorite table cloth.
  
  
• Polka Dot. Polka Dot Polka Dot. Polka Dot. Polka Dot. Polka Dot.
  
  
• Isn't it cute how in Sears men's sportswear is right outside hardware?
  

Non-Windows Shopping

Despite risking the Wrath of SCB (why am I not that scared...?), I can't think of anything remotely interesting to say about my accessories. I did, however go shopping this evening. I visited some real department stores for the first time in...longer than I had realized, apparently.

The mall, like all other forms of chain retail, is right across the street from my office, and I needed to go dress shopping. I needed to go dress shopping because my special occasion wardrobe, though seemingly more than adequate for the demands of my lifestyle, has never until now been called upon to outfit me for a formal morning Chinese Jewish wedding in Austin in mid-July. Actually, I doubt my wardrobe has ever been called to outfit me for anything in Austin in mid-July. Meteorologically, I try to ignore that things like "Austin" and "July" exist at all. The one dress I had that would have worked best departed when this round of WT made me acknowledge that it was doing me no favors. Its fault was that it took off about 15 years, which would make it highly desirable in some contexts, but I'm still young enough that people 15 years younger than me have no business attending black tie events.

Anyhow, back to the stores. Clearly, a revolution has been going on in the field of materials engineering, and I never even heard about it. Never have I seen so many different fibers tortured into resembling third rate parachute nylon.

I also got to witness the degradation of Jones Brands that Wende's been so diligently reporting. Sad.

Apparently the goal of summer clothing is to simulate nudity. Is it still called a neckline if it reaches the bottom of your ribcage?

Somehow or other I injured myself stepping off the escalator in Lord & Taylor, so I had to limp out after hitting only a few stores. So far I've failed to find anything suitable that's stocked in my size, but there's lots more mall to cover. And it's right across the street.

Finally - Something I Need!

Gah, I keep writing things and somehow failing to actually post them. This one's only a couple days past due.
________________________________

I'm well set for the holiday party season (my office party isn't until January anyhow), but still I've been waiting for this week, since it applies to one very specific gap in my wardrobe I identified some time ago. Fortunately, it's not urgent, and can probably be filled during post-New Year's party-wear clearance sales.

Two of my favorite people in the entire universe are getting married this spring. To each other, if that wasn't clear. I need something to wear.

Here are the facts as I understand them: Wedding is mid-April, at the chapel of our alma mater in central New York, early afternoon ceremony, followed by winery reception, under 100 guests.

The problem: I have several things which would be perfect to wear if the wedding were in the winter, in the summer, in the evening, or in California. Or if it weren't a wedding - the one outfit I have which would be suitable in all other respects is white, and not just any white, but exactly the same shade as the bride's gown, so far as I can tell from the photos she's sent me.

April in the Fingerlakes is a problematic thing. It could be a lovely spring day. It could be a rainy spring day. It could be 85*F. But it wouldn't surprise me at all if there were a blizzard.

(True story: The week before spring break during my freshman year started out beautifully - 75*F and not a cloud in the sky. The next day, and I promise I don't exaggerate at all, it was -20. We had ice storms for the rest of the week. I suspect a lot of people got sick.)

My initial idea was a day-to-cocktail style dress with a jacket - that's something I can imagine being useful in the future - though I may go with something totally different. This is lovely - check out the alternate view - except for one little detail which would make me utterly miserable (I bet you can guess what that is...). Unfortunately, most of the options I've found so far have the same drawback. The rest are not age appropriate - I don't want to compete with the Mother of the Bride (another of my favorite people) any more than the bride herself.

Even in the course of writing this post, I've done a bunch of Windows Shopping and spotted a lot of very nice things, none of which is quite right for the occasion. I could add even more links but it's more of the same. (For the record, Macy's sells some seriously weird stuff.)

I don't want black (daytime, and ostensibly spring; besides, a joyous color would be better).

I don't want something that absolutely requires the jacket to complete the look (since the whole point is that I might have to take it off for the entire day).

I don't want the wrap thing. Fussy for day, if you're under 65.

I don't want something that I can't in good conscience consider appropriate for a religious ceremony (even though I might be unique in my generation for even having such reservations, and even though I might be the only person in attendance besides the bride, groom, and officiant with any religious convictions worth mentioning).

Ideally, I'd like something that would make me invisible to everyone but the people I'm actually interested in seeing and talking to, but I suspect that technology is beyond my price point.

Whatever it ends up being, it may also be called upon to do duty at my 11-year high school reunion (the ten-year was postponed due to logistical issues) which will occur at roughly the same time. However, that event will be in California, so I have other suitable options.

I could make something appropriate - something with vintage styling, I think - but I'm not yet certain whether that will be a practical undertaking during the next several months, so I'm not getting up my ambitions.

So, my strategy for now is to scour all the department stores during the first week of January.

Ugh, shoes.

I know I just said I don't need to buy shoes, but my brown loafers experienced catastrophic failure last week. They will have to be properly replaced, but a short term substitute was absolutely essential. I ended up with these:

I actually do like them, and can imagine them becoming pillars of the wardrobe community, though I wouldn't have sought them out under normal circumstances. As a matter of illustration of my footwear issues, though, these represent the absolute bleeding edge of my sartorial taste where shoes are concerned. And that's after my loosening up significantly over the course of my early adulthood - five years ago I wouldn't have come within 50 feet of these.

A quick lesson

Hm, I wrote this a few weeks ago but apparently never posted it...an artifact of my excessive picky-ness. More later.

_________________________________

I was feeling inspired by everyone's inspiration photos of shoes and bags, so I thought I'd do some Windows Shopping to post my own eye candy. Apparently, this is a bad season for me.

I looked at several department store sites, Shoebuy, Zappos, eBags, and the (barely navigable) apparel and accessories department of Amazon. All in all I probably laid eyes on over 1,000 pairs of shoes and several hundred handbags. I didn't see one single thing that interested me enough for a second glance.

To put this in perspective, I know from experience that, of all the shoes I've ever seen while shopping that I actually liked well enough to try on, approximately 5% fit me well enough to be worn at all. Those that fit well enough to buy are a subset of the 5%. And a goodish number of those I end up resenting.

Sigh.

It's a good thing I don't actually need to buy any shoes right now, isn't it?

Look look look look look look look look!!!

Edited - right photo this time.

Tada! Look who's here!

He's still getting settled in - his permanent home won't be in front of the big shelf - but he just wanted to say hi to everyone.

We're getting on splendidly so far.

Part of the packaging...

Where Ikea gets its inspiration.

Presenting, the namesake:

Never noticed this before, don't know how old it is. It doesn't exactly stir my soul, but whatever, I'll take my 15 minutes. And since my real name couldn't be remotely construed to be Scandinavian, it's probably the best I'm going to get.