Showing posts with label Carrie Bradshaw. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Carrie Bradshaw. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 2, 2022

Renaissance Wear, Scarborough Flair: A Tried and True Trend for All Thymes

Skirt: ELLE, Kohl's

Eclectic Collective Necklace

Bag: JCPenney

Top: So, Kohl's

Bracelets, top row, from left to right: Apt. 9, Kohl's; Amazon; Worthington, JCPenney; Wet Seal; Amazon. Bracelets (and ring), bottom row, left to right: Worthington, JCPenney; Zulily; ROSS


Shoes: Betsey Johnson, DSW

Top: So, Kohl's

Headbands: INC, Macy's

Shoes: Mix No. 6, DSW

Bag: Target; Rhinestone bracelet: Zulily; Rings: Mixit, JCPenney; Rose bracelet: Francesca's; Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Tights: Xhilaration, Target

Club Cupcake Necklace

Top: TJ Maxx

Bag: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Dress: Candie's, Kohl's



Scarf: Echo, Macy's

Top: ELLE, Kohl's

Rhinestone Rose Necklace

Skirt: ELLE, Kohl's

Butterfly and flower bracelets: Mixit, JCPenney; Fish and deco bracelets: Target: Ring: Bloomingsales Florist, Brigantine

Socks: Xhilaration, Target; Shoes: Jessica Simpson Collection, ROSS; Shoe clips: Burlington Coat Factory

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's; Princess figure: A.C. Moore

When I hear "velvet," many things come to mind: National Velvet, Velvet Revolver, and red velvet cupcakes.  Also, fashion from the Renaissance, the '60s, the '90s, . . . and now.  Because everything old becomes new again.  Especially stuff to wear while listening to Simon & Garfunkel and/or watching a joust.  Not that I was doing either when wearing these plush pieces.  But if Carrie Bradshaw can wear couture while eating popcorn (hashtag And Just Like That . . .), then I can wear off the rack on my porch. 

Maybe next time I'll bring cupcakes.

Saturday, May 22, 2021

Mall Crawl Before You Can Catwalk

After a year and two months of buying stuff only online, last weekend I busted out and went shopping IRL.  Three weeks had passed since my second Pfizer shot, and I had a dentist appointment in a few days.  So I thought it was time to mingle with the masses -- and see if I remembered how to drive.  I chose my outfit carefully, settling on a navy sweater with a rainbow stripe in the middle, ripped jeans, navy crushed velvet flats with yellow socks, a quilted red and black shoulder bag, and a side pony tied with a red and white polka dot ribbon.  It turned out to be way too warm -- I was sweating even before I crossed the parking lot! -- but I liked the look, so no regrets.  

My first stop was Macy's.  It was a Sunday, so it was crowded.  I threaded through the racks, careful to avoid fellow shoppers even though they were masked.  I visited my usual haunts, namely juniors, shoes, and costume jewelry, and was disheartened to come up empty.  Everything was picked over, and what was there was lackluster.  So I hotfooted it up to Macy's Backstage, which is the Marshalls clone section.  Fashion-wise, it too was a wasteland, but I did find a cute picture frame, some pastel gnome salt and pepper shakers, and a pink potted faux succulent for my office.  When it was my turn to pay, I slid my finds through the opening in the Plexiglass that separated the clerk and me.  "I like your outfit," the clerk said, "It's very mall girl."  "I'll take it," I answered.  But that's where the good vibes ended.  Because next he asked what brought me to Macy's, and I explained that it was my first outing in a year after getting vaccinated.  "And you chose Macy's?" he asked, incredulous.  "There are far better places!"  I bit back the urge to retort, "I don't think Mr. Macy would agree," and instead gamely uttered, "Don't worry, I'll hit them all," meaning other stores.  But that turned out to be the wrong tack to take.  "You don't have to spend money! You can do anything!" he counseled, wrapping my $20 worth of baubles with the authority of a financial advisor trying to talk his client out of buying a Bentley.  "Now go out and do something fun," he decreed, thrusting the bag at me as if it held dog poo.  Oddly enough, this wasn't the first time I'd been shopping shamed by a clerk.  But it was certainly the most dramatic.  Nothing like dipping your toe back in the pool only to be tossed into the deep end!  

My next and last stop was Kohl's.  I was disappointed that there weren't any exciting clothes there either.  However, I did score two rainbow rhinestone Simply Vera brooches and a faux wicker pineapple picnic server that I now use to store/display beads.  This time the clerk was much kinder, so much so that she erred on the side of anxious.  I felt for her.  I wouldn't want to work in a store during a pandemic, wondering if each and every customer was carrying COVID.   

So, was the expedition a success?  Even before the quarantine, department stores were definitely on the decline.  But being away from them for a year and then seeing them with fresh eyes made me realize that maybe they weren't so great in the first place.  Online, you can find anything in any size, style, or color without having to settle for something just because you could reach out and touch it.  Brick and mortar stores are always there for you, but they don't always have what you want.  They're like that boring banker boyfriend who's punctual and remembers your birthday but whose stories about his coworker stealing his PB&J make you wish you were with a guy who doesn't wear a watch or have let alone manage a bank account.  That said, the best part of the day was, shocker of shockers, the driving -- or, rather, rediscovering the radio (apparently, I like Machine Gun Kelly).  There's just something about being out there on the road with no responsibilities, singing at the top of your lungs.  Another surprise was the, ahem, pedestrian one of walking.  Despite (sort of ) keeping up with my exercises, running in place in my living room just isn't the same as getting out of the house.  Carrie Bradshaw once famously said "shopping is my cardio."  But it wasn't until I became housebound that I realized it was mine too.  That said, some shopping trips may not deliver the goods in terms of actual, well, goods.  But they give you more than you bargained for in other (good!) ways.

So, yeah.  It's nice to know I can still take on the world, snarky clerks and all.  But that I don't have to if I don't want to.

Which means that next time I'll hit up Macy's online instead of heading Backstage.

Monday, December 11, 2017

Sad Mac Attack Strikes Again

Unlike most artsy people, I don't have a Mac.  But I did see the PC equivalent of a sad Mac frowny face on my laptop, just like our old pal Carrie Bradshaw, and as the Geek Squad guy confirmed, that ain't good.  So.  I did the only thing I could, which was to 1) hightail it to Target to buy some Christmas presents and, okay, a scarf for myself along with a $6.98 bag that I found smushed in the wrong spot, which I refuse to see as anything other than a little gift from the universe, and 2) compose a picture-less post on my 3G iPhone about the ordeal, no small feat considering I have difficulty even typing texts.  Because, pictures or no pictures, not being able to post sucks.  When my poor little HP expired, I felt the window slam down on my world.  On the flip side, with no Pintetest, Etsy, or shopping to hold me hostage, I've had much more time to spend with my reliable old vicarious/virtual reality buds, books and TV.  Which means I'll have lots to blog about once I get a new computer.  Maybe that's the takeaway.

That and don't ignore your laptop when it says its fan is broken for five years.

Monday, June 16, 2014

New Necklaces, New (Blog) Look




Tank: Boscov's
Tee: So, Kohl's
Skirt: Marshalls
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Fred Flare
Scarf: Gifted
Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's




Dress: Eric and Lani, Macy's
Shoes: BCBG, Macy's
Bag: Marshalls
Belt: Wet Seal
Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's




Dress: JCPenney
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Eleven Peacocks, Etsy
Belt: B Fabulous
Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's





Dress: Candie's, Kohl's
Tee: So, Kohl's
Shoes: Betseyville, JCPenney
Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney
Sunglasses: Kohl's
Scarf: Marshalls




Top: Merona, Target
Pants: Sears
Shoes: Guess, DSW
Bag: H&M
Belt: Marshalls
Sunglasses: JCPenney

Here's the second batch of necklaces I made with my Olivia Madison Company beads.  As I'd hoped, they're bigger, better, and more bedecked than ever before (even if I do say so myself).  But they didn't start out that way.  At first, I just strung the beads with the rhinestone sliders, trying to let the pieces shine unencumbered by anything extra that involved the dreaded glue.  I hated the result (way too run-of-the-mill) and ended up taking action with my wire cutters.  That's when I thought, why string the rhinestone sliders at all?  Why not make them the focal point of some fresh felt designs?  (See, in the end, glue always reigns supreme.)  Once I started, I couldn't stop, unsatisfied until I'd covered the key categories of desserts, seashells, critters, randomness (that would be Miss Parrot Wings), and flowers.  I left out fruit, but there's always next time.  

So, that's one new thing.  The other is that, after much consideration, I decided to add a menu bar to the top of this blog highlighting some of the pop culture topics I've expounded upon and/or referenced these past five years.  I figured this would make it easier to pinpoint particular posts.  I ran into this issue a few years ago when someone was interested in the blog on a (for lack of a better adjective) professional level and said that there were too many posts focusing on my products. "Sure," I allowed, "but I write about other stuff too!," scrambling to find a post about a book or movie.  Needless to say, this would-be venture never went anywhere.  But it made an impression on me, if not about my content, then about the way I presented it.  

So I began the reorganization, an endeavor that required slogging through hundreds of old posts to decide which ones to link.  It was a humbling experience, like reading old school papers or journal entries and wondering what the heck I was thinking.  Which sort of gave me pause.  Part of the problem of making posts more accessible is that they become . . . more accessible.  Did I really want to give people a blueprint to musings that would be better off buried in the bowels of cyberspace?  Because truth be told, my earliest ramblings were a little rough around the edges.  For example, I sometimes fell prey to the break-the-fourth-wall habit of posing audience questions a la Zack Morris in "Saved by the Bell" or Carrie Bradshaw in early episodes of "Sex and the City."  I'd end posts by asking, "What sorts of crafts do you like?," "What's your favorite piece of clothing?," and (that convenient catchall) "What do you think?"  I've since dispensed with such queries, instead taking a strong but silent "you know what to do at the beep" approach to comments.  Still, this was just one of many instances of cringe-worthy blog behavior that I uncovered; by the time I'd finished searching, I'd arrived at the following realizations: 1) I am a very silly woman, 2) I read a lot of cheeseball books, and 3) I seem to have no shame.  

Nevertheless, in this digital age, there's no such thing as maintaining a linear online presence.  With or without a navigation menu, the narrative nature of a blog is merely an illusion, not unlike time itself.  A glance at any site's traffic confirms that, on any given day, more people may have accessed something you wrote two years ago than something you wrote yesterday.  Which meant that if I were to continue on this wayward adventure (and for better or worse it seems that I am), then I had to own my postings past, flaws and all.    

So that's what's on the menu.  That and some carbo-licious casseroles.  

Thursday, June 14, 2012

TV Tuesday on a Thursday: Girls: Pearls and Pebbles

The bright bravado of this first picture channels the kind of femme, funky vibe that I hoped to get from HBO's much-buzzed-about new drama "Girls." But after tuning in to the pilot On Demand, I found that the just-got-caught-picking-its-nose awkwardness of the second picture much more accurately conveys the show's tone. Created by twenty-six-year-old writer and star Lena Durham, "Girls" follows in "Sex and the City's" footsteps by chronicling the lives and sexcapades of four introspective New York City women. Only unlike that fabulous foursome, this quartet is in its twenties and broke. (It's no accident, I'm sure, that picture number one [which I found on Glamour's Web site, by the way] echoes the iconic chic of Carrie and company.)

At the group's epicenter is Hannah (Durham), a twenty-four-year-old unpaid intern armed with an English degree and a half-written memoir. The episode opens with Hannah's parents, both professors (so that's how she got so brainy), telling her that they can no longer financially support her because - and this is pretty wrenching - they just don't want to. The kicker? Hannah's an only child, a fact she incredulously hurls in dear old mom and dad's faces in the elegant and dimly lit restaurant where they broke the news. It's an awful, hide-your-head-under-the-pillow moment, and, as I soon found, a fitting appetizer for what was to come. The next day Hannah asks her boss for a paying position only to be fired. Then she has some hard-to-watch sex with a heinous-looking guy who criticizes her tattoos. When she confides that she got them as a teenager to take control of her overweight body, he says that she should get them lasered off because she's "not that fat anymore." (Oh, the horror.) Then, to top it all off, she goes home to an unpalatable dinner party only to down a mug of opium. High on it and the advice of globe-trotting hippy dippy newcomer Jessa, she bursts into her parents' hotel room, announces that she's the voice of her generation, and demands that they read her memoir -- all moments before collapsing.

It's well done. You know, gritty, disturbing, and weird: your basic unvarnished, coming-of-age slice of life. I get it and there's a good chance I could have lived some version of it had I taken a different path. But I didn't enjoy watching it. I think I would have ten years ago, when I thought that all entertainment had to be painful and deep and different to be good. These days, though, I appreciate TV's lighter side. Luckily, there's a whole TV Guide's worth of laugh-track-happy programming out there to deliver me from my doldrums.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Book Report: The Carrie Diaries by Candace Bushnell


"Meet Carrie before Sex and the City." That's what it says on the cover of Candace Bushnell's The Carrie Diaries, a prequel to that other book that launched the popular HBO series of the same name. The idea interested me. After all, Sex and the City offered us little information about Carrie Bradshaw's background or her early days in the city, dispensing only small clues couched in glib one-liners such as, "I came to New York wearing Candie's," and "Sometimes I'd buy Vogue instead of dinner; I felt like it fed me more."

I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't what I found. The Carrie Diaries takes place during Carrie's senior year in high school in a small Connecticut town, and it's all about those staples of high school drama, namely cliques, crushes, hookups, and back-stabbing best friends. It seems geared toward thirteen year-olds (for all I know, maybe it is) and made me glad that high school is far behind me. Furthermore, some of the details don't match up with those in the TV series and the two subsequent movies. For example, it turns out that Carrie is the oldest of three girls. Her father is a doting scientist and her mother has passed away. Yet there's an episode of Sex and the City in which Carrie blames her problems with men on her dad who ran out on her (which makes a lot more sense than her having a nice dad and a normal middle class upbringing when you think about it). Also, the second Sex and the City movie features a flashback showing how Carrie met each of the other girls. She bumps into Charlotte first, on a subway, Miranda second, in a department store, and Samantha third, when Samantha's still a diamond-in-the-rough bartender. Yet in The Carrie Diaries Carrie is dropped off by her father in the city only to have her purse stolen (to Bushnell's credit, this does happen in the movie), and is forced to borrow change to call a friend's cousin -- who just happens to be Samantha, who is already a successful advertising executive. These are all subtle discrepancies, I know, but it's hard to believe in characters when their back stories flip-flop like that.

Still, even disappointing stories have redeeming qualities, and The Carrie Diaries is no different. I enjoyed the parts about Carrie becoming a fashionista and a writer. An edgy girl in a conservative town, she wears vintage white go-go boots the first day of school (much to the horror of her best friend) and reinvents a destroyed designer handbag left to her by her mother by painting her name all over it in pink nail polish. Always creative, Carrie has been dreaming up stories since elementary school, but it isn't until she meets college boy George (no, not that Boy George) that she realizes the value of the old adage "write what you know" and begins documenting her own experiences in her high school's newspaper. Finally, we catch a glimpse of Carrie's budding feminist outlook as she relays memories about her mother, who went back to college for her architecture degree after having children, and who always taught her daughters that feminism isn't about being anti-feminine, but about living the life that you want. I liked that part. Critics and viewers have always argued about whether or not Sex and the City sends a feminist message. As in, are these women falling into the old trap of being obsessed with their appearance and attracting men? Or, are these women bending the rules of society, refusing to be tied down by husbands and children to build careers and do their own thing? As someone who's always been in the latter camp, I thought this section of The Carrie Diaries tied in nicely with the way Carrie's adult life unravels.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Gone Shopping

Golden Girls Pocket Mirror, Snappy Mirrors

Mixed Button Pack, Sick On Sin

Snazzy Skirt, The Lazy Oaf

Flowers Tee Shirt, The Lazy Oaf

Splash Color Tights, We Love Colors

Polka Dot Sheath Dress, XOXO

Crayon Dots Tee Shirt, The Lazy Oaf

Every January I find myself going on a post-holiday online shopping binge. (And yes, this is in addition to my day-after-Christmas brick and mortar store shopping binge.) By this point any worthwhile winter bargains have been wiped clean from the stores, forcing me to stalk cyberspace's great marketplace. I tell myself that it's my opportunity to find some truly unusual, can't-get-this-at-the-mall pieces, and more often than not this turns out to be true.

Some people stock up on canned goods in case of a snowstorm, alien invasion, or nuclear holocaust. I stock up on fashion items. Sometimes I honestly feel as though I'm trying to squirrel away enough essentials, both funky and classic, to last me a lifetime in preparation for the day when I run out of spending money and can no longer shop. Don't ask me why I think this will happen; that would be like asking the can-hoarding Mrs. X why she fears a day when she won't be able to get her hands on green beans or fruit cocktail. All I know is, the shop-til-you-drop-for-survival game is one I've liked to play since high school.

January isn't quite half over, and I've already racked up an assortment of sweaters, tee shirts, and dresses, including a black and white tuxedo-style cocktail dress that I purchased from XOXO in a fit of Rebecca Bloomwood-style inspiration, thinking things like, "I could get invited to a cocktail party! Or a wedding! I'll wear it to every function! Everyone will know me as the girl in the black and white cocktail dress!" (For the uninitiated, Rebecca is the heroine of Sophie Kinsella's Confessions of a Shopaholic.) I would've included a picture of the dress here, but when I went to copy it from the site I discovered that it was sold out, and the picture gone. (Who knows? Maybe I even scored the last one.) I also nabbed some baubles from Etsy, namely a pair of pocket mirrors from Snappy Mirrors, one of which features The Golden Girls, and a selection of kitschy, produce-themed buttons from Sick on Sin that I look forward to pinning to various sweaters and handbags.

Yet even with a take like this, I fear the siege isn't over. I've got my eye on a trio of duct tape clutches, a collection of octopus pendant necklaces, and an anime cartoon-printed mini skirt, all from Etsy. The only saving grace is that I got most of my stuff on sale, if not clearance. This is the sort of twisted logic I use every time I amass a new mini wardrobe, rationalizing that Carrie Bradshaw would've spent more on a single pair of shoes. Never mind that Carrie Bradshaw is a fictional character. Or that every time I open my closet I'm pummeled by a rainbow of sweaters and jeans raining down from the top shelf.

Something tells me, though, that I'm not alone in my obsession. The cliché about women loving to shop is a cliché for a reason. So, what are your go-to guilty pleasure purchases? Clothes? Cosmetics? Kitchenware? Spooky porcelain dolls? (Each to her own.) This shopaholic wants to know. :)