Of Clowns and Cacti

Another Upside Down Clown Necklace

Top: Crown of Hearts, Alloy

So Many Succulents Necklace

Top: Collectif X, Modcloth

So, Guthrie and Elmer.  I introduced these two a while back, and they're still out there, roaming the desert.  Only now they've picked up a protégé.  His name is Ollie, and his claim to fame is that he can stand on his head.  Why don't we make his acquaintance? 

Ollie didn't know what he'd gotten himself into.  When Guthrie and Elmer picked him up hitchhiking on the outskirts of Twin Terrors, he thought they were just another couple of oldsters.  Sure, they were crotchety as all get out and looked like they'd seen more than their share of bad road.  But it wasn't until they started talking about themselves in the third person that he started to worry.  It was as if they had split personalities.  One half was the geezers who hated clowns; the other half was the clowns.  Ollie almost asked them about it.  But it wasn't the kind of thing he could bring up after trading war stories about Route 66 or commenting on a cactus-shaped cloud.  Especially not after they'd been kind enough to share their chili, even if it was vegetarian and smelled like a compost pile.  No, weird as they were, he was in no position to make waves with these gents.  So when Guthrie asked if he'd join their act at the Sidewinder Saloon, he burped up some chili and said, "Sure."  Now he was onstage -- or on the overturned washtub that passed for a stage -- doing a headstand as the Friday night crowd jeered and catcalled.  He didn't know how women stood it, having their body parts reduced to overripe fruit, their every movement turned into something suggestive.  But he told himself to ignore the drunks and concentrate on what he was doing.  Every time he stood on his head, he did it for a few seconds longer than he had the time before.  It made him feel like he had something to work toward and that he was getting somewhere.  Plus, being ridiculed up there alongside Guthrie and Elmer bonded them more closely and quickly than any campfire or cold one ever could.  Even when, hours later as they made their way home in the stark, inky night, Guthrie and Elmer unleashed a fresh verbal assault on their alter egos.  Ollie considered telling them about his own demons.  His parents had thrown him out when he was ten because they had too many mouths to feed.  But also because they were sick of explaining why their son was such a dreamer and had a head where his feet should be.  Then Guthrie started playing his banjo, disrupting Ollie's thoughts.  When Guthrie broke the banjo over Elmer's head, Ollie knew it would be a long night.         

And that's Ollie!  You can see his likeness taking center stage in the form of a plastic noisemaker in my Another Upside Down Clown Necklace:

The two things that you need to know about this necklace are: 1) The noisemaker was the prize inside a New Year's Eve cracker, and 2) it's called "another" because there was an Upside Down Clown Necklace that came before it.

Noisy is as noisy does.  But nothing's as noisy as Guthrie's banjo.     

Linked Pin: The Social Network of Not-So-Solitude

 Ice Cream Dream Charm Necklace

Cute Pursuit Charm Necklace 

 Fruit Frenzy Charm Necklace

Leopard cami: Worthington, JCPenney

Polka dot top: Wet Seal

Rainbow stripe top: Alloy

They say that people get married to have someone witness their lives.  (Also so that they'll have someone to nuke them Cup o' Noodles when they're sick.  Because technology can't do that yet, unless you're geeky and/or rich enough to own a robo-chef.)  But sometimes, I think, that's why people blog, too.  Even married people.  It's like saying, hey, I'm out here, having these thoughts as I make jewelry/bake cupcakes/paint landscapes/write music or whatever else kind of creative thing it is that people do.  Kind of like keeping a somewhat censored and very public diary without the unicorn cover and lock.  

Blogging is a form of storytelling, a kind of letter from and to yourself -- and everyone else -- that reminds us that even when engaged in the seclusion of artistic pursuits, we are intertwined and connected.  And I've always loved storytelling.  Because there's no wrong way to do it.  Sure, you can hone your craft or take a class, but at the end of the day, your story is your account of what happened, and no one can tell it but you.  

That said, this week I made some simple charm necklaces.  I used to think that it wasn't really art unless I'd suffered a little.  You know, spent hours teasing intricate designs from felt, using just enough glue so that everything would stick together, but not so much that it would seep through and make it all (symbolically) fall apart.  But lately I've taken a simpler view.  There's nothing lesser about attaching charms to a chain, not if you think the result is beautiful.  And creating beauty is what art is about.

Just this morning, the husband and I split a kiwi.  He said that kiwis are very seedy and hairy, and I said, yes, like a weird little man.  

And now I'm repeating it here.

If that's not the nexus between inner and outer thoughts and marriage and blogging, then I don't know what is.

P. S. Kevin Kiwi says hi.

Ear to the Ground (er, Crown Jewel)

Tee: Gifted
Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's
Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy
Bag: Worthington, JCPenney
Sunglasses: Michaels

Green, Orange, and Purple Peanut Gallery Earrings 

Fuchsia, Purple, and Pink Sweet Swan Earrings

Mismatched Blue and Red Heart Earrings 

Bear Buddies Earrings

Yellow, Blue, and Pink Peanut Gallery Earrings 

Yellow Lollipop Earrings 

Red Lollipop Earrings

Mismatched Pink and Black Heart Earrings 

Hoop Memes Earrings

Red, Blue, and Orange Sweet Swan Earrings

Did you hear?  I left my heart in San Francisco, just like my shirt (and Tony Bennett) says and my ear in the mouth of a sand shark.  Well, maybe not my ear.  These lobes haven't been pierced since I was nine years old and let out an ear-splitting shriek in my mall's Piercing Pagoda.  I let my ears, which turned out to be "sensitive" (i.e., they'd pus up if anything less than 14k gold passed through their delicate epidermis) close up a mere few months later, forever slamming the door on my chance at third grade glamour.  They've remained unadorned ever since.

It's funny, then, that I recently started making my own danglers of the costume variety.  For years, people have asked me, "Why don't you make earrings?"  I never had a good answer.  (Somehow, saying " 'Cause my ears aren't pierced, Swiss cheese head!" seemed bad for business.)  Still, I persisted in my stubbornness, sticking with necklaces, barrettes, and the occasional novelty bag or bracelet.  Until now.  Yet another customer asked me about my earring-less inventory, and I thought, why not try my hand at a few auditory ornaments?  So, I bought some wire earring findings, attached chains and charms with jump rings, and now I have ten pairs!  It was so fun and easy.  I even got into gluing cabochons on the charms of some, delving into my craft supplies to make the most of what I had.  It just goes to show, I suppose, that breaking out of your comfort zone sometimes pays off.

Emphasis on the "sometimes."  Despite my excitement about my newfound artistic endeavor, I'm in no rush to return to the Piercing Pagoda.

Mermaid in the Shade: Look at this Stuff, isn't it Sweet?

Heartland and Sand Charm Necklace

Top: Wet Seal
Skirt: Amazon

Shoes: B.A.I.T., Zulily

Bag: Sugar Thrillz, Dolls Kill

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

 Nautical Nonsense Necklace 

Colorful Carnival Cuff  

Nautical Nonsense Bracelet

Yellow top: Marshalls

Striped top: Aeropostale 

Skirt: So, Kohl's

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Apt. 9., Kohl's

Ocean Love Potion Necklace 

Magical Mermaid Hairpins 

Top: JCPenney

Skirt: Amazon

Shoes: B.A.I.T., Zulily

Bag: Sugar Thrillz, Dolls Kill

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

First, a note about the "stuff."  The store-bought as opposed to handmade stuff, that is.  A chunk of it comes from the Internet, most notably my good pal Pinterest.  This Dolls Kill seashell bag and these Zulily BAIT wedges started life on my Bright Bags and Show-Stopping Shoes boards but ended up in my closet.  And I first spied these Amazon skater skirts on The Big Hair Diaries blog, where big hair aficionado Samantha regularly rocks them in a rainbow of colors.  That's what I love about the web: shopaholics helping shopaholics, one purchase at a time. :)   

Now that that's out of the way, on to the mermaids.  Because they're having a moment.  Pinterest (I told you she was a pal) is swimming with bags, tees, mugs, jewelry, you name it, splashed with images of these salty sirens.  Even the beach shop down the street from me boasts a "mermaid room" where you can have your picture taken as one such maritime maven.  I think it's for kids, but then those tails looked mighty long.  

Of course, I've always been hip to mermaids' magic.  Even as a second grader I wanted to be one in our class anti-pollution movie (yes, you read that right; no plays for us in high tech, 1980s South Jersey) even though my teacher had me slated to portray the "philosophical fish," a peacock feather-wielding do-gooder who warned humans of the dangers of discarding uncut plastic soda can rings.  This was right around the time The Little Mermaid came out, and as such, the height of my Ariel obsession.  Needless to say, it was farewell feather, hello fins!  Wearing that orange sequinned, slightly smelly rented mermaid costume made me feel far more glamorous than the humdrum hat and cape of that know-it-all fish ever could.

One of the things mermaids are known for (besides promoting recycling) is their enchanted tresses.  Ariel famously ran a fork (er, dinglehopper) through her fiery, animated locks, and any woman with a long, flowing mane is said to have mermaid hair.  So, when I set out to embellish my very first set of hairpins, I thought, why not go with seashells?  Pastel and pearlized, they make just the right contrast to the dramatic black pins.  Although I love the way they turned out, I still wanted to make something brighter, bolder, and, yes, bubbling over with big, bad beachiness.  And so I spawned this matching Ocean Love Potion Necklace.  Because if there's something else that mermaids are known for (besides luring sailors to their death), then it's sporting seashells on their chests.  

Or, at least sometimes.  For this wasn't always the case for the Stowaway With Me mermaid mascot:

This sign, oddly, is not in Brigantine, or anywhere else at the Jersey shore, but on a not-quite stretch of highway enroute to Philadelphia.  It's been there as long as I can remember, but it wasn't until ten or so years ago that the management of Stowaway Storage saw fit to cover mistress mermaid with a pink seashell bra.  (To be fair, pre-bra, her hair strategically covered her most scandalous bits.)  The why remains a mystery.  Who knows; maybe Stowaway was getting too many late night phone calls from sailors looking for a good time.  Elaine (because let's call her that, for reasons that may or may not be clear at the end of this paragraph) does have a big ass phone number plastered right next to her head. Also, if these Nautical Nonsense Necklace and Bracelet photographs are any indicator, then she has a shore thing for sponges, cartoon and otherwise.  

Sounds kind of fishy to me.

Leather and Space: The Vinyl Frontier

Weather or Hot Big Bertha Charm Necklace

Top: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Skirt: Decree, JCPenney

Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW

Bag: B&B, Ocean City

Belt: Gifted

Sunglasses: Michaels

Fabulous Felt Saturn Brooch

Top: JCPenney

Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Nordstrom

Belt: Marshalls

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Sparkly Saturn Charm Necklace

Tee: Gifted

Skirt: Decree, JCPenney

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Candie's, Kohl's

Blue purse charm: A.C. Moore

Bumblebee purse charm: Carole, JCPenney

Sunglasses: Michaels

Anyone who thinks that black leather is a don't in July has never ridden with a motorcycle gang . . . or been sideswiped by one on the highway.  Yep, winter, spring, summer, or fall, leather -- or even its genetically inferior twin, pleather -- is badass.  Indeed, when I wore this pleated pleather skirt with a black leather jacket and low ponytail a few months ago, the husband said that I looked like Steven Seagal.   

Leather/pleather miniskirts in particular embody their own mystery -- even if the mystery is the material they use for the pleather. You know what else is mysterious? Outer space (just ask a white dwarf or black hole or that dude who hosted The Twilight Zone).  So, I decided to send them (pleather and space, that is) on the same mission -- namely, to create some out-of-this-world outfits!   

Saturn, always my favorite planet (despite my distaste for the car of the same name -- and, uh, my love for oxygen here on Earth), takes center stage by starring in not one but two of this week's accessories.  Still, it's the ringless Weather or Hot Big Bertha Charm Necklace that's stolen my heart -- and has the Cupid's arrow to prove it.  The five huge, laser cut moon/star, lightning bolt/cloud, and heart/arrow acrylic charms actually came from key chains.  I love their unabashed larger-than-life-ness.  This necklace is what I imagine Flavor Flav would wear if he signed on with NASA.      

Here are some admittedly fuzzy close-ups of the skirts.  (Pleather's such a rebel that it doesn't even listen to cameras.)  Just pretend that they're a bunch of nebulae or the exhaust from a Hells Angels' Harley: 

My favorite is the one with the buckles and zipper (sorry, Steven).  That's why it's first and gets to be with Big Bertha.

That's all for this space hog blog post.  In the meantime, keep those crop circles spinning.

Pinning Plays: Shoe Montage Collage Flashback

Clockwise from top: Ami Clubwear; Charles Albert, Alloy; Ami Clubwear; Worthington, JCPenney; (center) Not Rated, Journeys

Left to right: ELLE, Kohl's; Bucco, Kohl's; Madden Girl, Macy's

Left to right: Guess, DSW; Ami Clubwear; Guess, DSW

Big news, I'm being pinned!  No, I haven't become a gorgeous lady of wrestling or joined a sorority.  The Tote Trove is finally on Pinterest!  I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I'm finally pinning as opposed to being pinned, which could also be a pun for winning, but the sorority-wrestler thing was so much more fun, don't you think?  Anyway, I got "pinning" in in the post title.  So, I guess that's two wins. Er, pins.

For years, people have been telling me to get on Pinterest.  "You'd love it!"  they'd say.  "You can find anything!"  For those not in the know, Pinterest, "the world's catalog of ideas," is kind of like Facebook, only with just pictures.  All kinds of pictures of everything, uploaded by users and copied from all over the web.  So, instead of reading an update on Aunt Enid's bunion surgery (no disrespect to Aunt Enid, as I'm sure my wild shoe-wearing ways will land me in the podiatrist's office sooner than later), you get new pics of wedges.  And booties.  And stilettos.  All sailing past in dizzying Technicolor.  (See what I did there?)  Anyway, at first I resisted.  Not because I didn't think I would like it.  Oh, no.  Because I knew just how much I would like it, that once I started, my collector's nature would take over, and I'd be pinning anything and everything with abandon.  There's no doubt about it; Pinterest is the Pringles of the social media world.  Part of its lure, I think, is the whole FOMO (i.e. fear of missing out) thing.  Because if you find one fantastic hat/skirt/bag/necklace, then there's no telling just how many more are a mere scroll away, waiting to light up one of your already bursting boards.  (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that that's where you put your pins -- on boards.  I have about twenty, with have names like Nifty Necklaces, Bright Bags, Awesome Outfits . . . you get the idea.)  It's inspiring and exhilarating, a fabulous fantasy land of fashion at my fingertips -- if only I never leave my computer!  Indeed, more than once the husband has resorted to wheeling me away from the screen, usually at dinnertime.  I can't say I blame him.  It's a sad day when mac n' cheese can't compete with (for all intents and purposes) imaginary stilettos.  I've been at it for a month, and so far I've amassed more than five thousand pins.  Which, now that I say it, sounds like too many.  Still, although this technological trend has fueled one obsession, it's curbed another, perhaps more deleterious one, namely shopping.  Instead of going out and buying two new shirts, I can pin dozens of them from the comfort of my own home without spending a dime.  What's more, when I do venture out to the stores (or, as they so quaintly say in Britain, "the shops"), most of what I find looks oh so tragically basic.  Just one more example of how the internet skews our expectations.

Anyhoo, yesterday I decided to take some of my own shoe pics to add to the photo fracas.  One wouldn't upload to my Show-stopping Shoes board because Pinterest can sometimes be a finicky priss.  But no worries, because they're all here!  That's right, I'm embracing my shoe montage roots for a cute reboot (there's a line I'm sure I've used before).  If these punchy pumps and wacky wedges look familiar, then it's because . . . you've seen them before.  But never in such colorful configurations, or against such brilliant backdrops!  Here at the Trove, I've learned some things over the years.  Like, there's no such thing as too much color.  Really, sometimes I marvel at the way posterboard has changed my life. 

Speaking of which, gotta jet.  A fresh pair of Ferragamos is waiting.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Dice: Part 1

Red Candy Bow Barrette 

Green Candy Bow Barrette 

Candy Bow Barrettes

Top: Material Girl, Macy's

Skirt: Forever 21

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

*Please see the below post for the Introduction to this epic post series.  Or, if you stumbled upon this post while wandering the wilds of the internet and have no way of navigating this blog (if that's a thing; I'm not sure, crafts are my wheelhouse, not code), then click here.

Relax; you've hit the sweet spot.  Sugar is the first stop in this series, so what better way to kick it off than with candy?  I got these retro-licious, circus-slash-carnival-looking candy appliques from kawaii jewelry supply super seller Delish Beads and added them to some colorful bows.  Are they hard candies?  Or taffies?  Who knows?  Either way, they do kind of sort of resemble something that a Nicholas Sparks hero might bring to his sweetheart.  You know.  If Sparks sagas had a campy, Willy Wonka-meets-Shopkins type vibe.

If you know Sparks, then you know that he's sugary, penning the kind of saccharine, read-it-and-weep stuff that sends most men in search of the nearest Home Depot or Hooters.  Being a sucker for such fare, I've read everything he's ever written, even his nonfiction memoir Three Weeks with My Brother. He releases a new title every other fall, and the husband always gets me the latest for Christmas.  This year I was happy to learn that old Pepe Le Pew had published Two by Two just one year after See Me.  Like See Me (which was a bit of a thriller), Two by Two is edgier than Sparks's previous stories.  It's about a guy named Russ who gets divorced and is forced to fight for custody of his five-year-old daughter.  Which is no surprise considering that Sparks himself recently made things officially unofficial with his wife of 26 years. 

That said, there are shades of Sparks that are less than sweet in this novel.  And it's not just because both he and his alter ego called it quits on marriage.  In the real world, guys -- even troubadours -- get divorced.  It's because of Russ's slightly controlling, chauvinistic attitude toward his wife.  Vivian is a classically beautiful shopaholic who drops out of the PR rat race to be a stay-at-home mom.  She enjoys wine, reality TV, and yoga, and she doesn't eat sugar.  To be fair, Russ says that Vivian is a wonderful mother, not to mention a more dedicated parent than he is (well, except for one no-wire-hangers-ever moment and a new job that uproots their lives, both of which seem melodramatic and out-of-character for the generally level-headed if cliche-riddled Viv).  But Russ also complains that she lets her "chores" slip, whining that he "doesn't like a messy house," and going all Scrooge when she spends a little too much at -- gasp -- Walmart.  Although this neat freak cheapo chump makes appearances throughout the Sparks canon, he's more fully realized here, so much so that I can't help but wonder if Sparks himself is the kind of guy who runs his finger over mantles in search of dust and expects women to spend an eternity in last season's shoes.  One thing's for sure; he wouldn't take too kindly to our spice and dice representatives, in-your-face funny lady Amy Schumer and free-spirited spendthrift Rebecca Bloomwood (but more on them later).  Can it be that Mr. Sensitive is actually a (and the romantic in me cringes to type this) misogynist?  It's a weighty question, and one that shakes my belief in not only Sparks, but in fiction.  You see, I've always put a lot of stock in the Mark Twain quote "fiction is the truth inside the lie," which is to say that I think of writers as truth tellers, wise souls who have valuable information to impart about life.  But Two by Two forces me to admit that they -- or, at least some of them --- aren't Yoda-esque messengers at all, but agenda-toting hucksters pedaling shoddy goods.

Now that I've aired my hostilities, I feel okay saying that I still like Sparks's writing.  Fascist or not, he has a way with words, managing to make the minutiae of everyday life not only interesting, but a little bit charmed.  Which is hokey, sure, but nowhere near as bad as saying that you watch "The Bachelor" for the cinematography.  (To be clear, I do not watch "The Bachelor."  Unless you count that SNL parody where all of the contestants sidle up to Beard Hunk and theatrically purr, "Mmm, I like this.").  To that end, Two by Two is worth reading (and blogging about) despite, or perhaps because of, its need to be read through a more feminist lens.

So, here's to enjoying the journey without drinking the Kool-Aid.  Or, in this case, sweet tea.