Desperate shopping

You know its’ been a hell of a hump day when I don’t even get around to posting my Hump Day Help on All Kinds of Pretty til the next day. With my daughter out of school, the hump has been more steep than usual and it took all of my powers to get over it. But here I am, better late than never, and as it turns out I’M the one who needs help. Fashion advice, I mean.

This past week, I went on a shopping spree, in order to find something I could wear to a reading I did on Tuesday night. It was desperate shopping. You know what I mean -- when you have an event to go to and nothing to wear and no time to really get into it, so you just madly dash around, paying way too much money for shit that doesn’t even look good on you? My favorite is when I buy stuff that I know FULL WELL requires a super-specialized undergarment which I do not own, but I hand over my credit card anyway because I’m desperate and I think maybe I’ll have the time to undertake a NEW search for the perfect undergarment to go under this overpriced, unflattering dress. I don’t know why I think I’d have the time to do this if I don’t have the time to head to a store where I could actually find a dress in my price range that looks good on me. And of course, I am not able to procure the necessary strapless/ racer-back/ seamless bra and so the dress remains in the bag and I end up wearing some old number that I’ve worn a hundred times, my back up dress. And then when the event is over and it occurs to me that I have a bunch of expensive dresses that I can have to return, I realize that since I bought them at little boutiques near my house, I have already gone over the week grace period for money-back returns and now much accept store credit. Which wasn’t part of the plan.

So this week I bought three dresses that looked just perfectly AWFUL on me – didn’t even fit, actually, what was I even THINKING? In addition to which, I purchased a new pair of shoes which I like, I really do, but when it came time to put them on for my reading, I opted not to. I just didn’t like them ENOUGH. I didn’t like them better than my back-up shoes – the pink satin Bottega Venetas I always wear. And as I still have four days left before I am stuck with the shoes permanently, I’d like your advice.

To keep or not to keep?

You're looking at the Chelsea Crew Carla Dance Class Heel, $69

What prompted me to buy these is the color also the heel, which gives you a nice lift and the feeling of wearing heels, but is low enough that I thought I’d be enticed to wear them even when I didn’t feel like making the full commitment to stilettos. The website calls it a “dance heel” which sounds about right. The cons – I don’t really have $69 to spend on a shoe I didn’t even wear for the occasion I bought it for. And also I am worried the criss-cross-edness will give me insane blisters. These ain’t no Saltwater sandals (which incidentally I am wearing right now and they feel positively dreeeeeamy).

I was thinking of exchanging them instead for these adorable little shoes, same price, which are more casual and which I think I might get more use out of. They even have them in red, and you know how I feel about red shoes in the summer.

What say you, readers?

The Holy Grail of Sandals!

It is Wednesday and I'm stepping up to the plate at All Kinds of Pretty. I’m scrambling to meet a deadline with my daughter at home because her school’s already over (way to have my back, Montessori). My son’s been up half the night with a hacking early-summer cough, and when he’s up, you can guess who else is, too. I need two things: coffee and something to wear that makes me pretty and requires absolutely no effort.

Thankfully, I can get the turbo-dose of easy pretty I need. On Saturday, I found the Holy Grail of sandals. Yes, the quest is over. Call off the dogs. I’ve got the shoes in my possession; in fact I’m wearing them right now.

Saltwater Sandals.

Why do I wax so rhapsodic? Glad you asked:

1. They look great. In the five days since I bought them, at least half a dozen ladies have stopped me to ask me where I got my sandals. They come in a few colors – my local store carried navy, brown, silver and red. Silver is super cute but I could not resist the bright red. I generally feel that just the way a bride needs something blue, a woman in general needs something red on her person at all times. It’s bold. It’s unapologetic. It says, “Watch out suckers ‘cause here I come.”

2. They cost $39.99. I defy you to find a pair of sandals much cheaper than that: even at Wal-Mart.

3. They are the most comfortable sandals that have ever graced my foot. Now this is a big deal. I dread buying sandals because the people who design them usually have sadist leanings. Either that, or they are in cahoots with the Band-aid manufacturers. The straps that burn! The criss-crossing pieces of leather than saw at your soft foot flesh! The endless blistering! And while we’re on the subject, can anything ruin the aesthetic appeal of a beautiful pair of new sandals quicker than having all your toes wrapped in band-aids which inevitably became dislodged and then flap around in a filthy state of decrepitude? All I have to say is, I have no t had a single blister with these shoes. It’s a sandal miracle!

4. You can wear these shoes in the water. Let me rephrase that – not only can you wear them in the water, the company encourages you to do so. Get them wet in saltwater and they will customize to your foot. I’m not sure precisely what that means or why its’ so great but it is a big plus if you find yourself frequently in the sprinkler area, as I do.

And, oh, one last thing, Saltwater make kids’ versions too so you can, were you s o inclined, buy matching shoes for your child. The kiddie ones are even cuter and more irresistible although I do confess that I don’t spend over $20 for kid shoes so I may have to wait to score some hand-me-downs for the little one. Besides, he already has triple the number of shoes I do, that little fashionista. Sometimes, even a mother had to take care of number one.

Fashion in a fantasy world

A million years ago, when Sex and the City was in its prime, I used to have viewing parties at my apartment every Sunday night. Cosmos abounded as did commentary on the fashion. The clothes – the wild successes and fall-on-your-face failures — were always the best part of the show. That and the fact that I did once star as an extra in a scene shot at the Cowgirl Hall of Fame.

So my girl friends and I were eager to take in SATC 2. Though we had managed our expectations about the merit of the film itself, we knew it would be fashion porn. And oh, was it ever. I’ll save you $12.50 (and yeah, I know movies probably cost less outside of NYC but please don’t tell me about it, just like you shouldn’t tell me how you bought your entire five bedroom house for $100K). I’ll save you, and all the readers of All Kinds of Pretty, the price of admission and sneak you some peeks into my favorite fashion from the film.

Because most of the movie takes place in Abu Dhabi, there was lots of drapey-style dresses. Swaths of deliciously-colored silky fabrics flowing and falling in a wildly casual but so-so way. My favorite was this peachy Halston Heritage Stretch Jersey One Shoulder Mini Caftan:

Then there was a duo of pleated Halston dresses which I swooned for – one floor-length orange one which SJP wore on the beach and another, an electric blue stripe cocktail one which she wore in a NYC scene.

If I had an extra couple hundred bucks and no concerns about my children eating and one day gong to college, I’d buy these. Of course then I’d have to retain a personal trainer to get my arms and legs to look like hers so I could actually wear these dresses. And then we’ve lose our apartment and be homeless. So unless these looks show up at Target, edited for the everywoman, I guess I’ll have to go without.

All of these are fairly tame pieces which one could actually wear (in a fantasy world where suitcases full of money were left next to my bed every morning by elves). But there was one outfit that I totally loved which was, I realize, completely ridiculous. It was what SJP wore in the Abu Dhabi karoake scene and it included a gold and silver lame Chanel dress and overskirt which, according to NY magazine cost $47,190 and a pair of bejeweled jeans by the Blonds which cost $4000. It is insane but rocked my socks off:



And there you have it. What the fashionista inside me wears on a Wednesday while I sport my Keens and a floral skirt I bought at Old Navy two years ago. Anyone else see the movie and have any favorite outfits?

Brighten up. Think pink.

It’s raining and gray today in New York City and I am bone tired. Three year-old woke at 2 am for no apparent reason and drove us crazy with a maddening case of “eh eh”ing instead of actually using words to state her nocturnal demands. Then I had a nightmare I stole a warehouse full of couture inspired by traditional Japanese garb but none of it fit me.

Point is: I’m feeling cranky and drab on this already gray day yet I must dig deep to find a way to incite readers at All Kinds of Pretty, who rely on my weekly posts, to reach fashion brilliance. Thankfully, on Mother’s Day, I took the liberty of leaving my family at home and taking a few glorious hours to shop. Which means I have just the shirt to forcibly brighten myself today:

$24.90 from Old Navy. Yes, nothing says "fashion brilliance" like Old Navy. And while we’re on the topic, I feel like I always have to mumble the words “Old Navy” because it doesn’t have the cred of its comparably-priced stores like H & M or even the one-stop-shopping appeal of a place like Target. I am always loath to admit that I sometime shop at Old Navy. But I love this bright pink spring blouse. I am one of those rare women who never outgrew her childhood love of the color pink. Only now that I’m grown, it’s gotta be bright pink, so that my color choice is bold and not just plain odd.

Even fuchsia has its limits as a mood-lifting agent, though. Just look at the expression on my face when I took the picture — 15 minutes late for school, pre-coffee, with the girl screaming about how she hates school and hates shoes and hates breakfast and hates umbrellas. Even pink doesn’t stand a chance against all that.

Double Hump Day Alert

Today I’ve got an extra hump to contend with. It’s Wednesday and an aunt of mine, by the name of Flo, is visiting me. Flo’s a real pain in the ass. Flo makes me cranky. Flo makes me bloated. I don’t feel much like taking big steps fashion forward when she’s in town. I feel like sitting on the couch in a plaid Snuggie, eating Nutella from a Costco sized vat and yelling insulting comments at the TV.

But that won’t do, now will it? What kind of an example would that show my impressionable children? Also, my husband threatened to stop making me coffee in the morning if I kept it up. So this double hump day, I pull my secret weapon out of the closet.

To find out what it is, read the rest at All Kinds of Pretty.

Beware the unplanned radical haircut!!!

Its Hump Day again and I am charged with the task of lifting the spirits of those faithful readers who visit All Kinds of Pretty, of galvanizing them to fashion greatness, even on a Wednesday. But today I can only offer a cautionary tale:

The longing to refresh your look is natural, nay, unavoidable. You want bold strokes, a little change that makes a big impact. You want a radical haircut. And, if you’re like me, a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-er, you don’t want to labor over the decision, hemming and hawing for months

But readers, oh, readers, beware the spontaneous radical haircut! It can go terribly wrong.

The deal is this: my hair is, as you see here, thin, generally lifeless, the kind that looks worse the longer it gets. I WANT to be a long-haired beauty but I am not. So, recently, I decided I had to accept my hair’s limitations and get it chopped off. I opted to forgo the cheap local salon on the corner and splurge on the fancy Manhattan salon I sometimes go to – Arrojo, started by Nick Arrojo from What Not To Wear. I always make last-minute appointments and end up with whoever’s free at the time I can squeeze the cut in, and this time I ended up with . . .

The Mean Stylist.

You know the type. He makes faces of disgust when assessing your hair pre-cut, asking you what kind of shampoo you use with eyebrows raised, wondering where on earth you went for your last (implication:awful!) haircut, informing you that your ends are way too dry, that the cut you’ve chosen makes your face look fat, and, for extra measure, recommending you get your color done – by him – as soon as humanly possible.

This stylist also told me that I was parting my hair the wrong way. I HATE when they tell me that I am fighting against my hair’s natural part because I think this shit about having a natural part is a bunch of baloney. But he convinced me

1. To go from past shoulder-length to a chin bob.
2. To get bangs, despite the fact that in 30 plus years I have NEVER looked good in bangs
3. To part my hair on the other side

This is me in the Arrojo bathroom, trying to put on a happy face:

As I told the Mean Stylist, “I’’m past the age where I’m going to burst into tears if I don’t like the cut.” However, I am NOT past the age where I’m gonna write blog-rants about it.

I hate this haircut. I hate that it makes me feel like a broadcast journalist or a soccer mom and I hate that it makes me feel like I am in the early 90s. Most of all I hate that I am now forced to part my hair on the opposite side which makes me have a minor nervous breakdown every time I look in the mirror. It’s like an alarm goes off in my head, which bleeps: “Wrong side part! Identity compromised! Adjust part! Adjust part!”

So now I’m just trying to remind myself that hair grows and hey, nothing wagered, nothing gained.

Are you as spineless as I am in the face of the mean stylist? And does the spontaneous radical hair-cut EVER work?

Meme'd!

I've been memed by the ladies at All Kinds of Pretty. Now, I don't know precisely (or really at all) what that is, but who am I to resist what seems to be a viral zeitgeist-y phenomenon? I present to you, my bag:

This bag was purchased from Old Navy, for $19.99, about 3 years ago. It’s not a diaper bag, but has worked perfectly as one, with the twin side pockets for bottles, and now sippy cups. But dude, it has not fared well over the years and I am definitely due for a new one. Look at the size of this tear in the front of the bag:

Now for the contents:

What surprised me about this exercise what how little of this crap is for me – it’s all stuff for the kids:

Five kinds of snacks (to be fair, we just got off the plane from Tennessee, so my snack supply was fully loaded).

Change of clothes, training diapers and wipes even though my youngest is pretty fully potty-trained (I know the first day I go without them, I’ll have a kid with shitty britches on my hands).

One plastic bat, because you never know when that’s going to come in handy.

I do, however, have my favorite H & M sunglasses, a mirror, and one very wonderful lipstick I stole from my 23 year-old sister. Oh, and my wallet is from my sis too – Miss Sixty and very snazzy if I do say so myself. So that’s where the glam is hiding.

And there you have it. I’ve been memed.

A little piece of hump day advice

Hey, a little decolletage never hurt anyone, especially on a Wednesday. Its what I call my Post-millennial Liasions Dangereuse look. I find any outfit is improved when you think of a really pretentious name for it. Check it out at All Kinds of Pretty

Help! It's Hump Day!

News, readers! Someone finally noticed my incredible ability to find expensive-looking empire-waist clothing at discount prices. That's right, I've been DISCOVERED as a style maven and invited to join a new style blog for moms called All Kinds of Pretty. There are about 14 of us hot mamas blogging about all things fashion-related, mainly the struggle to stay in the style game when you're covered with spit-up, sleep-deprived and only ever interact with people under the age of 5. Lots of different kinds of style, all of it affordable, on real women with real bodies.

I'm running a column called Help! It's Hump Day! about little gems of style that will get you through the miserable sunofabitch stretch of time known as Wednesday.

Today's topic: Eat your heart out, Isadora Duncan. My head may be full of snot but my throat is rocking a Sonia Rykiel jersey scarf!