Retail Therapy: When the Bottom Shops Out

Happy birthday to me. Who could deny herself a few confections for her 32nd birthday? There were the shoes - the delightful nude suede lace-up half-boots I bought with the DSW gift card they bestowed on me. That was followed by an Amazon order - some books and movies and CDs because those are the sorts of gift I would want for my birthday. And when I went to TJ Maxx and everything just seemed to fit, I took it as a sign to buy it all. The Borders by my house is going out of business, and before I knew it, three trips and a stack of books later, I'd swiped a fair amount on the old plastic telling myself it was a good deal.

It didn't end there. Because in addition to my spending on non-perishables like shoes and dresses and books, there was a generous uptick in my payout for perishable items. Like cocktails. And dinners. And lunches and brunches. So while I was growing fat, my wallet grew thin.

On one particular day, a box from DSW arrived at the same time as an Amazon shipment, and I arrived home to both directly from a shopping spree. My den was littered with boxes and bubble wrap and the smell of new shoes and a pile of new books and the wadded up cellophane that covered the DVDs strewn among the rubble. And I felt a twinge of something. But ignored it.

But looking back, I can see how sad it felt to sit among all those new things and still feel the void. I know it's cliche; but cliches are cliche because they so accurately portray the human condition in all its repetitive glory. I mean, it's nothing new to shop out of sadness or loneliness or desperation or all three. But cliche or no, it was still the case.

I know what I was thinking in some moments: that I deserved new things to compensate for the lack of whatever else I wanted. I was seizing those things I wanted that I could acquire with a credit card. Who wouldn't want to exact that sort of control when other things on the wishlist are so maddeningly unattainable no matter my credit limit? Why shouldn't I buy pretty clothes and beloved books and movies that provide the perfect escape from reality when faced with the immense dissatisfaction of what I couldn't purchase?

What a harrowing truth. I think I finally accepted it during a bridal shower - an affair at which we were the sole shoppers in a downtown boutique. And instead of selecting one item as a token purchase, I chose...well, more than one. Despite the discount the boutique offered, I still nearly choked when presented with the credit card slip. But with a swift flick of the pen, I signed my name under a ghastly total. That was the moment that the rationalizations and rationality collided in my head in a strange confusion of voices about what I deserved and what was okay and what had spun totally out of control.

The point is not how much I spent. It wasn't the money. It wasn't that for once in my life I burned through an entire paycheck like water. It was that I let myself. That I could be in a place where I found it permissible to soothe my wounded soul with so much stuff. The truth came close to the bone...that I could be reckless because I just didn't care anymore. Who needs to be reasonable when all hope is lost? Who needs to rein in when the rain never stops? Why not shop myself broke? What's to lose except money?

To be honest, I haven't taken anything back. Perhaps because I truly like the things I purchased. Perhaps because when I wear those jeans I simply had to have or the dress meant for the next special occasion, I'll remember. I'll remember that all hope is not lost. That there's something to hope for, even if it's just for that place where the aubergine Ralph Lauren dress will be the perfect attire.

Image via Rita H. Ireland

Promises, Promises (31)

- To post soon (about something besides Kudzu)

- To move

- To reflect upon meeting the one and only Mendacious

- To be older

- To get my passport (for Mendacious)

- To write more poems, essays, letters

- To think about tomorrow

- To take a break

- To call

- To wear a dress

- To go to bed

Getting All Dolly-ed Up

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes?"

I hold up a clearly outdated, faded sweater with a Christmas scene appliqued on the front that I unearthed in our catch-all room. "First of all, let's discuss why you still have this. And secondly, let's discuss if I can scavenge it." I hold it up in front of me.

"That's really old. And ugly. What do you need it for?"

"I'm going to cut out the shoulder pads."

"What for?"

"I need more boobs for my Dolly Parton costume, and these are the optimal shape."

(I cut. I stuff. I return.)

"Wow," she says. "That's a whole lotta boob."

Thursday Miscellany

* When I'm in the shower in the morning debating what to wear, I imagine my clothing options just like Cher's computer program in Clueless, sliding tops and bottoms back and forth for consideration in my mind.

* My mom has new glasses. This may explain why she purchased prune-flavored yogurt for me instead of mixed berry.

* Rumor has it that Johnny Depp is signing on to play The Riddler in the next installment of Batman. Oh please, oh please say it's true.

* NY Fashion Week purportedly featured models that demonstrated that "thin isn't so in" - several size 2s and 4s worked the runway this year. So go ahead and eat that ice cream, ladies.

* I sort of love my hairdryer. Like, it's been with me through a lot. It comforts me to count on it every morning.

* I'm going on a date tomorrow. A third date, actually.

* In one month? NEW Keane AND Ray LaMontagne. Perfect Symmetry and Gossip in the Grain drop Oct. 14.

* I can't believe Kenley got through with that abhorrent dress last night on ProRun. Although, Blayne's was an atrocity. I'm with Heidi, "Ooooh, that's bad."

* The debut of Fringe has me jonesing to pick up the Dawson's Creek series finale and watch it will eating a whole cookie cake by myself. I heart Pacey.

Why So Scrunchious?

I understand that Olympic competition isn't about vanity. As noted by Nik, the swimsuits tend to make the women look, well, less than feminine. And let's face it - there's zero room for boobs at the Olympic games. But one thing I don't understand...is the scrunchy.

I know the gymnasts have to keep their hair out of their eyes. Whether for sheer aerodynamics or because a stray wisp will cost them a one one-hundredths deduction. But that's what hairspray is for. Don't have any? See the US Men's Gymnastics team.

The use of the scrunchy as an instrument of severe hairstyling doesn't even make sense. Back in fourth grade when I wore these - hey, hey, they were acceptable at the time - they were rather loose fitting and I always had to wear a rubberband under them. The scrunchy was simply for aesthetics.

And though I don't condone the millions of barrettes dotting the scalps of the competitors, I can see how these clips would keep the hair at bay. But the scrunchy - oh, odious scrunchy! Why dost thou plague the Olympians?

I find myself particularly surprised by the US athletes sporting them. Somehow, I can convince myself that in Eastern Europe, scrunchies are still partying like it's 1999. In China? Maybe it feng shui to wear a scrunchy. But in the good ol' U.S. of A.? I know it's simply not done. Low marks for the fashion faux pas.

A Myriad of Miscellany

* Completely annoyed by Kid Rock's new song that samples liberally from Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London" and Lynard Skynard's "Sweet Home Alabama." You can't make it better, Kid.

* Christian Bale was on VH1 this morning talking about The Dark Knight in his native Welsh accent. Dreamy.

* Les Mis is coming to the Fox Theatre in September. I am pee-in-my-pants excited!!!

* At a chamber function last night, was invited by two almost-40 married men to have a drink at a bar along with my intern who is 21. Wrongness.

* This morning, I tried on no less than six outfits with four different pair of shoes before I left the house.

* I'm considering possibly maybe starting my own charitable organization. More later as my plans take shape...

* Headed northwest for the weekend and considering a trip up to old B.C. for taking photos. A new round of 26 things started last week, and I've got to get crackin'.

* Me, at work today? Totally useless. But that's okay...I've already put in about 50+ hours this week.

Berlin Babes

Now this is a little more like it:


The ladies looked even more fashionable at the big screen debut in Berlin. Kristin Davis rocks the shamrock frock, and I absolutely adore SJP's dress. It reminds me of the Big dress. (The first time?) And her hair looks really elegant, although this shot doesn't really do it. Plus I love her shoes. Cynthia Nixon is still showing that clavicle, but the V cut accentuates her features better and gives the illusion at least that the girls are a bit more perky. And though this shot makes it look like there might be some fit issues, Kim Cattrall's tangerine is a much more daring and interesting choice than the red. Overall, a step fashion forward.

Wednesday's Whatevers

* I snapped a photo of Dillon in the lion towel I bought him for Christmas and submitted it to the contest held by the company that sold me the towel - and I won! The prize is not even worth mentioning, but I did win.

* Tonight I didn't get home until 10:15 because I was hanging out with friends. Who would've thought?

* I have been having serious night sweats for the past few weeks, and I can't figure out why.

* Today I was trapped in the bathroom stall while the maintenance man changed the trashcan liner. I decided that silence was the best course of action for the least humiliation of all parties involved.

* We started talking about registering for classes today with our interns; and we gave them the beat down for complaining about online registration.

* I love the smell of citronella candles.

* One of today's headlines on Yahoo was about what a great Dr. Evil impression Pres. Bush does. Really?

* On a presidential note, I do have to give props to the first family for keeping Jenna's wedding private. I mean, I know there were pics out there, but it didn't seem to be a three-ring circus. Good for them.

* Angelina Jolie is officially having twins. So glad that's been cleared up.

* Have an important meeting tomorrow. Any thoughts on what I should wear?

* Cream cheese brownies are divine.

UPDATE:
The winning photo, per Andi's request.

Flower Power

So I'm at work, eating my lunch at my desk (lest you think I'm blogging on company time - I am a good girl) and checking out the latest posts on Perez. The Sex & the City movie premiere was last night in London town (sighs), and the ladies showed up dressed thusly:


Everyone is taking potshots at Sarah Jessica Parker for her over-the-top headgear. But, really? I kind of love it. Isn't that what we all thought was awesome about Carrie Bradshaw? That she wore hot pants, white heels and a gold lame belt pack and somehow made it cool? There are a lot of fashions throughout the six seasons that I personally couldn't pull off, but they dared, and that was what made it wonderful. And honestly? Kristin Davis' dress is a snoozefest, and Kim Cattrall looks like she's wearing a red slinky. I'll give Cynthia Nixon props for her clavicle-bearing black dress, but I'm not sure that it accentuates her best features.

All in all, even though I might not rock a giant green flower tower on my head, I give SJP credit where credit is due - she takes the risks and she works the carpet. You don't get to be a fashion icon by playing it safe in basic black.

You Don't Even Have to Give Me a Penny

* Another 4:45 wake up call tomorrow

* Kudzu, and how he seems to know right now that I need him, so he's hanging out with me on the couch

* That John Mayer's latest blog entry further convinces me that we would be really good friends

* Feeling really good about going paperless on my Chase credit card statements because they gave $5 to the World Wildlife Fund because I made the switch

* What's going to happen with Miranda and that devilish rake Jack in the book I'm reading

* My six-month review at work which was unbelievably good...maybe I can do my job

* Friends...far away and across the table tonight. It's good to have 'em.

* The Olympics protesting...I can't quite decide what I think is the best course of action. Read the article unearthed by HAT for an interesting perspective

* Whether to wear pantyhose or go bare-legged to the meeting with the law firm tomorrow. My legs look dreadful.

* Haircut plans. It is time. I am scheming.

Confessions of the Strange but True

* Tonight I attended a sheep shearing. I also correctly identified a tool used for castration.

* I have taken to wearing a velour track suit cast off to me by Anna who received it as a Christmas gift from her in-laws. I am so ashamed.

* I bought three pair of shoes this weekend. And two of them were comfortable. I know. I don't know what's wrong with me.

* I went to a groundbreaking today for the very first hotel in my home county. Scout's honor.

* In the office NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament pool, I am currently in 51st place out of 51. There goes my $5.

Some Thing Never Change

I'm in the shower and Mom yells, "Stick your head out!"

So I look around the curtain and she's standing there in that sort of how-do-I-look pose. She's wearing a cocoa colored empire waist shirt with pintucks around the yolk and a long olive green quilted jacket. I screw up my face. "It's all...too long."

She departs and I continue soaping and sudsing. "I'm back," she calls. I stick my head out. "What if I tucked it in?"

"Mmm," I say, eyeing it. "That's better." She bustles off to get her coat, and I carry on. Minutes pass.

"One more time," she calls.

I'm standing on one leg, razor handle clamped in my teeth, and I pull the curtain aside. The pintucked top is tucked in, khakis belted with brown leather and she's thrown a soft denim jacket with a mandarin collar and oversized buttons over it. "Perfect," I mumble around plastic.

"Thanks," she calls, already scooting down the hall. "I thought I might have to go to work naked just because I couldn't find anything to wear."

I finish showering, hoping that when I'm 63, I'm still spunky enough to discard four outfits to get it right.

Absurdly Pleased With...

* What I wore today - very simply, new jeans, a navy sweater with a button-up underneath and my new quilted vest and cowboy boots

* Almost being done with a good book and knowing I have another waiting upstairs

* A new episode of Women's Murder Club tonight

* New organic cotton bathrobe

* Kim's admission last night that her career aspirations as a child were to solve mysteries with Lavar Burton

* The size and shape of me...no more, no less

* Cherries

Project Runway: My Two Fashion Cents

It's back. It's time to gather round, people, and make it work. And last night's premier of Project Runway promised all the drama, cattiness and fashion that make it so magically delicious. So here's how the competition stacks up.

Carmen - I like her, but she also has that sort of aggressive Laura-vibe about her. I thought her design last night was interesting even if I didn't love it. Prediction: A strong contender to make it through to the late stages unless overconfidence or bizarre design get in her way.

Chris - A wild card. I liked his dress last night - I thought the purple fabric was gorgeous. He could also teeter toward one of those whose designs never have the wow factor. Prediction: Must wait and see.

Christian - The New Austin Scarlett. Love him. Love his wacky haircut. Love his sass. Love all of his interviews. And liked his design - didn't love the fabric, but I thought the design was interesting. Prediction: Strong contender for the final three.

Elisa - Totally bizarre and over the top. I think she's the new Vincent. And not in a good way. Prediction: Auffed over extreme creative differences with the judges (but great television while she's still around).

Jack - Beautiful dress. I thought was lovely and wearable. Which may get him into trouble for not establishing a stronger point of view. Prediction: A strong contender, although from the previews, it looks like something horrible will be revealed by him at some point.

Jillian - I think Jillian has potential, but for some reason, I can see her being one that has a challenge where she totally flips out and doesn't get it done. Prediction: Auffed in the later part

Kevin - He's trying to be the new Jeffrey/Santino with his elegance-with-an-edge. Didn't love his work last night, but I reserve judgment here. Prediction: Another wait and see.

Kit Pistol - I like Kit Pistol (just because I think that's an awesome name) and I think she has a strong and different POV. I could see her hanging in there into the late game. Prediction: Contender.

Marion - I noticed last night that Marion was largely ignored in the storyline, which made me wonder how important he'll be. I felt totally blase about his garment a la Robert last season. Prediction: (Yawn) Auffed early

Rami - Fabulous. Beautiful garment. I hope he doesn't get drape-obsessed like Uli did with the billowy dresses. Could be my one sticking point with him. Prediction: Definite contender for top three.

Ricky - Three words: What happened to Andre? Prediction: Auffed, but not before a spectacular meltdown

Simone - Boring. Auffed. Reminded me of the first one to go in Season 2, who, sadly, was from Georgia.

Steven - Steven, Steven, Steven. Could be fabulous. Or take a total turn for the worst. I think, if Steven keeps his head together, that he could be a contender. Prediction: Possible maniac, possible fashionista.

Sweet P - Hmmm. I get a bad feeling about Sweet P - like she's going to annoy me to no end and produce clothes that she really likes and believes in and will justify til she's blue in the face even though we can all tell they're ugly. Like Angela last season? Prediction: Auffed at the halfway.

Victorya - She definitely got the Kara Saun/Chloe Dao vibe about her. She's very together, less eccentric than the other designers. I'm expecting elegant, chic work from her that I totally love. Prediction: Judges will coo over her consistency. Final three contender.

Thoughts, fellow ProRun aficionados?

Fashion Smashion

Dear Men of the A-Town:
Please stop wearing mirrored sunglasses with those little straps. Especially offensive is wearing them indoors around your neck and turned to the back. Oh, and stop with the dress pants/no socks and loafer combo.

Love,
Dame Fashion

Lift & Separate: A Tale of Two Boobs

Confession: For most of my adult life, I've been wearing the incorrect bra size.

It's true. And I am going public with this information for any of my readers who may also be suffering from IBS (Incorrect Bra Sizing).

I arrived at the bra size I've been wearing through trial and error - trying on bras and giving my best guess at which one fit right. But today, I said modesty be damned and allowed the lingerie assistant at Nordstrom's to help me find the right bra. Turns out that the La Mystere bra that Oprah loves, and which I had been wearing, isn't so right for me. And to add insult to injury, I've been wearing the wrong size bra by a long shot.

I know I'm not the only one out there confused about what bra size I should be wearing. In fact, my mom was wearing the wrong size, too. I was slightly befuddled at being 27 and finding myself asking the the assistant, "So how should the bra fit?" Here's a hint: you should not, as I was, be using the straps to hitch the girls up.

And once I had on the right size - and after I had recovered from the astounding cup size from further down the alphabet than I would've liked -I was amazed at the results of a little lift and separate. I discovered that the size of my bust does not mean I must endure a painful bra with digging shoulder straps and an underwire hellbent to break my ribcage. Forget the truth - the right bra size will set you free. For those of you who wish to follow in my footsteps, I support you. And your bra will, too.

Frugal

I was assisting Mom with the finishing touches on the quilt she's been making for Dillon. By assisting, I mean offering opinions and not actually sewing. I watched her run something through the sewing machine - a fixture in our house for as long as I can remember. "So that was a pretty good purchase, huh?" I asked.

After saying she thought she had gotten her money's worth out of it, she confessed that she spent $900 on the top-of-the-line Elna in 1978. And so strong was her buyer's remorse every time she made the $50 monthly payment, that she kept a list of everything she made on the machine. She pulled out a little green memo pad and showed me where she had kept a meticulous list of the garment, how much she paid for materials and the estimated retail value of what she had made. The list started in 1978 - and continued through summer of 1991. Catalogued in its pages were dresses, skirts and pants she had made for Anna and me, a suit vest and coat she made for my dad, all the way down to a belt she made for herself. She had estimated somewhere along in the 80s that she had saved about $1,200.

I never thought much of the sewing machine growing up. I thought everyone had one and that everyone's mother was as handy as mine with needle and thread. All my life, I've thought of her at the machine, the gentle hum of its motor, the clickety-clack of the foot moving up and down, the thick sweet smell of the machine oil.I took for granted that she made our Easter dresses every year, outfitted us for Sundays year-round and even made ensembles for Cabbage Patch Kids and Barbies. I recall a very swanky strapless fitted kelly green dress with accompanying shrug jacket she constructed for my Barbie.

At that moment, I felt in awe of her talent and her foresight and her own way of saving money and providing for us all. And I felt terribly sad that I can barely sew a button on.

Fashion Statement

I will not be reading any more romance novels set in Medieval times as, not even in my wildest imagination, are men wearing "puffed trunk hose" sexy. No. They are not.

Fashion Espionage

Tomorrow, I'm going to the Azalea Festival Garden Party in historic Airlie Gardens. We'll all stand around under the giant live oaks drinking gin and tonics and eating East Carolina barbecue to the sounds of the band who will undoubtedly be wearing seersucker suits and playing "When the Saints Go Marching In." And while the majority of these people "aren't from 'round here," they'll all play Deep South for the day. Women will wear all manner of floral-printed sundresses and giant hats and men will wear madras pants and pastel blazers.

And in the grand tradition of it all, I decided to go by TJ Maxx after work to see if I too could find some sort of appropriate head accoutrement. Instead, I encountered Miranda, office executive assistant by day and personal stylist by night. Before I knew it, she was shoving me toward the fitting rooms with 7 garments in my hand.

I fell in love with one of the dresses. A dress that I loved despite its requiring a strapless bra. And even though I worried that its babydoll shape might be a bit young for me. I loved it. Needed it. Had to have it. But it was a bit too big. No matter, I thought. I remembered seeing a smaller size on the rack.

When I went back, there was a woman there who was clearly almost twice my age - with my dress. I waited 35 minutes for her to go the dressing room with it. I figured she would try it on, decide it was way too young for her, and discard it - for me.

I lurked one row over from her. Followed her through the shoes and the handbags. That's where Allison, another officemate, found me leaning against the size sixes, peering through the last row of purses, my eye on the fitting room door. And finally, after 45 minutes of waiting, the woman emerged, carrying not one but two of my dress. She kept holding them up and considering them.

I lost my patience. "Excuse me," I said. "If you decide you don't want either one of those dresses, will you let me know? Because I really want it." She had the next two sizes down from the one I had. And gave me the smaller. I felt sad, thinking there was no way it would fit. But it did! Hurrah!

Almost two hours after getting there, after an insane debacle in the checkout counter, I left TJ Maxx, feeling rather satisfied that my stakeout had paid off. Tomorrow, I will be a precious magnolia in bloom.

Just What I Needed

After hearing what others in the office are wearing to Lauren's wedding tomorrow, I worried that I might be under dressed for the occasion. I'm rather terrible at determining what's appropriate to wear to a wedding.

I decided to go to TJ Maxx in a last-ditch effort to find something better to wear. I tried on several dresses - too much cleavage, too tight, too much tummy pooching out from the side view. I walked out with a shirt and a pair of Ralph Lauren sunglasses. How is this going to help me tomorrow? At least the sun won't be in my eyes.