Some Stuff So Nice I Wore it Twice: Pairs and Pears, No Gala for You

Flower clip: Capelli ULTA; Necklace: Amrita Singh, Zulily

Chase & Chloe, Zulily

Skirt: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Bag: Zulily; Sunglasses: Amazon; Rings: Express; Bangle: Don't Ask, Zulily; Flower clip: Claire's

Yellow bangle: Mixit, JCPenney; Coral bangle: Silver Linings, Ocean City; Floral bangle: Zulily; Chartreuse ring: Claire's; Flower Ring: Seahorse Designs, Etsy; Parrot ring: Francesca's; Wristlet: City Streets, JCPenney

Flip flops: Katy Perry Collections (They smell like coconuts!)

Skirt and top: So, Kohl's

Top: One, Marshalls

Shoes: Katy Perry Collection

Shorts: Merona, Target

Bangles: B Fabulous; Sunglasses: Party City; Bag: Ella & Elly, Amazon

Shoes: Impo, DSW

Top: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Red bangle: XOXO, ROSS; Wristlet: Circus by Sam Edelman, Kohl's; Sunglasses: Wild Fable, Target

Ah, Hawaii.  The pineapples, the poi, and the party-time prints.  It's like summer in a bottle.  Or a message in a bottle -- a cinch to get in, but a bitch to get out.  Much like that bottle, Hawaiian shirt time has rolled around again (two years in, and it's a thing).  Because even if summer is ending, I refuse to renounce my hot tropics togs.  

I had such fun mixing these patterns, the cherry florals and banana palm trees, the blue Hawaii blooms and jade tiki huts.  All of these clothes are old except the turquoise top and skirt, which I got this summer.  Although they're a matched set, each piece was sold separately, which was nice because it meant that I could get different sizes.  Smaller on top and bigger on bottom, I'm no stranger to the pear-shaped game.  Speaking of which, in the third outfit, I'm wearing a pear in my hair.

Fabulous Felt Banana, Pear, and Apple Barrette

I sold its twin some years ago, but this one lives on in my tresses.  On Antiques Roadshow, one of those bow-tied appraisers would be all, ah yes, you can tell that this is an early Tote Trove piece because of the rhinestones, which the artist didn't use much in later years, and also because there's an absence of a stem on the bananas.  It's a little crude, but it has a kind of carnival glamour.  Conservatively speaking, on today's market, I think you could get a bushel of apples for it.  Red delicious of course, not gala.   

Which is fine with me as long as no one has to bob for them in this COVID -- or any other -- climate.  Bobbing for apples is nasty.

Ghosts and Rings and Halloween Things: Haunted Spouses With Axes to Mind

This Halloween post is teeming with treats, the first of which is a ghost story.  It all started when I unpacked this Dale Tiffany Antiques Roadshow Collection mirror from Zulily featuring a fancy lady in a pensive yet defiant pose.  When the husband (who is a huge "Antiques Roadshow" fan) first saw it, he said, "It's cool.  But also kind of creepy."  I agreed, adding, "It's the eyes."  (You can't see them well here, but they're weird and white and seem to peer out of her faux ivory face knowingly.)  "Don't worry," I said.  "You won't have to look at her; she's going to live in my closet."  That's when I got the idea to write a slightly scary but mostly silly story.  What's more, our house, a white Dutch colonial straight out of The Amityville Horror, is the ideal setting.  

So without further ado, let's enter the troubled mind of Lousia Leigh Perkins (which is not, by the way, her real name.  I don't say this for her protection or mine, but because I don't want those Antiques Roadshow hotshots stealing credit.)

It felt strange being back in the house.  The last time I'd been there was 1927 when it had just been built and rose from the street like a tall, frosted pastry.  "Oh Louisa, I'm so glad you could come," Diana had said, her long, knotted pearls and bobbed hair like a gash against the prissy wallpaper.  "You're always so . . . theatrical in your hats and big dresses."  I bristled.  Although we'd been friends since we'd met at Miss Abby's Charm School when we were seven, Diana's comments about my old-fashioned style never failed to cut me.  "Poor Louisa," I'd overheard her say to her flapper friends.  "Stuck in the turn of the century in those frumpy getups.  It's no wonder Winthrop jilted her."  Although it was true that Winthrop had left me, my clothes had had nothing to do with it.  The culprit had been Diana.  He'd been bewitched by her cat's eyes and flirtatiousness, by the subtle yet bold way she slid her fingers across his arm.  I had been devastated when I found out, destroying Winthrop's entire collection of ships in a bottle with a single swipe of my parasol.  But what Diana didn't know was that things had changed.  Winthrop had come back to me.  Last night we met at our spot -- the gazebo -- and he said that he missed our evening strolls and how I always knew the names of the flowers.  Also, that he thought he was allergic to Diana's huge tailless cat, Bertha.  I even thought I saw him tear up a little, although I suppose that could have been the remnants of Bertha' s dander.  He said he planned to break the news to Diana at the end of the week before they had lunch with her mother.  That's when he would be mine again -- him and this glorious house.  So, when Diana asked me if I wanted to go upstairs to see her closet, I could afford to be gracious.  The stairs creaked as we climbed, and at the landing the cream and pink dressing room opened like a clam shell exploding with treasure.  Even the sight of all those short skirts and fringed dresses hanging in what should have been the guest bedroom couldn't dull my spirits.  And so I nodded as Diana droned on and pointed out her prized possessions.  "Father is sending my shoes up on Friday, and I'm going to display them here, first by height, then by color."  She indicated an alcove of shelves adjacent to the door to the terrace.  The terrace was above the sunroom, and it was my favorite part of the house.  I imagined sitting up there with Winthrop, discussing the gardens over tea and croissants at a wrought iron table as we watched the world parade by.  Diana saw me eyeing the door and smiled.  "Why don't we go out there?" she said.  Her smile turned smug, but just for a second.  Then she opened the door.  It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, crisp but sunny, the leaves gleaming bright gold and crimson.  I was lost in daydreams of what it would be like to be the mistress here, what it would be like to be Winthrop's wife.  I was picturing myself in a lace ivory gown with a full train when I felt someone push me.  "You'll never have him now," hissed Diana, "and you'll never live in this house."  After a brief struggle, I tumbled over the railing, my hat falling to the ground where my head would soon follow.  I tried to scream, but no sound came out, and within seconds I was plunged into darkness.  

That was ninety-one years ago.  From that moment on, I vowed that I would make it back here someday.  Oh, I couldn't return to haunt Diana and Winthrop once they got married, which they did a scarcely respectable month after my funeral.  I had to wait on account of some bureaucratic nonsense about re-entering the human world only after the elapse of ninety-plus years.  But although I couldn't terrorize my former best friend and fiance, I could watch their lives unfold, and it gave me no small amount of pleasure to watch Winthrop step out on Diana with the cook and laundress.  Now I'm back where I belong, even if I had to become part of this tacky mirror to get here.  As I said, it's strange -- but also exciting.  The new lady of the house says she's going to hang me in her closet -- no doubt the same spacious room where Diana used to showcase her ridiculous wardrobe.  This new woman -- Theresa, or maybe Tracy, her name is -- reminds me a little of her, what with her shopping mania and flashy taste.  It might be fun to mess with her, and throw her off her dress-up game.

And . . . we're back.  Thanks so much, Louisa.

 Fabulous Felt Candy Corn Barrette

 Fabulous Felt Ghost Barrette

 Fabulous Felt Jack-o-Lantern Barrette

Top: Bongo, Sears

Skirt: Merona, Target

Shoes: Delicious, Zulily

Bag: Nordstrom

Belt: Marshalls

Fabulous Felt Gray Bat Barrette

Top: Bongo, Sears
Dress: Zulily
Shoes: Payless
Bag: Cat & Jack, Target
Belt: B Fabulous
Green bangle: B Fabulous
Yellow bangle: B Fabulous
Black and white bracelet: Mixit, JCPenney
Purple heart bracelet: Cloud Nine, Ocean City
Purple bracelet: Wet Seal

 Bright Black Necklace

Top: Material Girl, Macy's

Jeans: Vintage Threads, Target

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Worthington, JCPenney

Bracelets: So, Kohl's

In happier hauntings, I've been wearing variations of these Halloween outfits this week.  Today it's the orange dress and black blouse combo, only I've added my Beetlejuice black and white striped blouse underneath to keep warm.  Yet the one piece that I've worn with everything is this ring:

You may recognize it as one of Samantha's PinkBopp originals, as I've been collecting them.  As always, it's a dollop of decoden deliciousness served up on a filigreed plate.  I love looking down throughout the day and seeing the whimsical witch, trick-or-treat bag, and hot heart pink heart perched prettily on my knuckle.

Also in keeping with the Halloween theme, I replaced Kermit's summer straw hat with a witchy version.

I was going to buy one, but the husband said that he'd rather make one from my stash of black felt.  (He was also the one who plunked Kermie down in this wine glass, which was hand painted by our realtor.)  I was impressed by the result, especially because structural design isn't my strong suit.  But the husband's handy like that.  And not just with mantel decor.  Check out his haunted graham cracker house.  The best part is the menacing tree.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I hear a thumping upstairs.  Louisa must be playing demolition derby with my coat racks again.

Send in the Gowns: Three Ring Sumo Circus

Fabulous Felt Clown Barrettes

Dress: David's Bridal
Shoes: Guess, DSW
Bag: Xhilaration, Target
Sunglasses: Michaels

There are few things as paradoxically creepy-cute as clowns.  So, I thought it'd be fun to make some in barrette form this week -- and even more fun to clip their colorful, madcap mugs (which, according to the husband, bare a striking resemblance to Mr. Bill) to the uber sleek and formal bridesmaid dress I wore in my sister's wedding.  The result is a look that would make anyone the belle of the Barnum and Bailey ball, right down to the mismatched shoes a la Helena Bonham Carter, who, come to think of it, looks more than a little clownish in those Alice in Wonderland movies.  These triple clowns are large and in charge and come in a rainbow of seasonal colors, spanning the palettes of fall, spring, and summer.  But not winter, because winter's the worst (and also because no one wants to see Bozo go down in a toboggan).

Clowns aren't the only characters cartwheeling through my personal circus.  I'm also sweet on sumo wrestlers.  Or whatever it is that's circumnavigating this satin box kumbaya-style.  Maybe they're acrobats, strange and smiley in their bright leotards.

I got this box on a sixth grade class trip to some now-forgotten Egyptian museum.  It stood out among the stickers and tee shirts, beckoning me with its exotic glamour.  I've always loved unusual trinket boxes.  They're weird and they store stuff; what more could a kooky collector want?  Knowing this, my mother recently rescued this one from the attic.  I was thrilled.  Even if it smelled funny and had become a coffin for crunchy critters.  Also, the "wrestlers' " leotards had partially disintegrated, shamelessly exposing the crude gray stuffing of their shoulders and rumps.  But to me they still seemed magical, a band of homegrown superheroes (sorry, Sailor Moon ad Pokemon) that had battled the attic's wilderness to emerge (mostly) intact decades later.  Bravery like that deserves to be rewarded, which is why I embellished their poor exposed innards with rhinestones.  I think the winking gold and purple add an exciting new dimension to this already kitsch-tastic keepsake, and I look forward to enjoying it for years to come.

On that note, I can just see some snooty-accented "Antiques Roadshow" appraiser a hundred years from now, turning it around in his hands and murmuring, "Ah yes, a novelty piece most likely sold at a museum gift shop in the Northeast in the early to mid-1990s.  It's a pity it's been altered.  Although the rhinestones add a sense of whimsy, they'll significantly lower the value at auction."  This is the part where the caftannned Midwesterner who brought it in snatches it away in a tizzy, huffing, "It looks better next to my velvet Elvis!" before flouncing off to have another expert examine her set of Ronald McDonald drinking glasses.

From one clown to another, this ring's come full circle.