Something from the Star: Bright Light, Lite Brite

Neon Orange and Chartreuse Barrettes

Neon Purple, Blue, and Pink Barrettes

Banana Bow Barrette

 Neon Pink, Chartreuse, and Orange Barrettes

Inner Circle Barrette

Neon Purple and Pink Barrettes 

 Yellow Bow Barrettes

Top: Candie's, Kohl's

Skirt (a dress!): Modcloth

Shoes: Circus by Sam Edelman, Kohl's

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Belt: Gifted

What do G. Love & Special Sauce, Gremlins, and that Christmas light-like toy have in common?  They're all about lights and getting lit.  Although not necessarily in that order.  

Because Friday was the solstice, I thought it was a good time for a party look made for -- what else? -- northern lights and winter nights.  Enter this fluorescent frock, sparkly black top, and starry clutch  (holographic parka to ward off frostbite excluded.)  The top reminds me of an inky black sky, making for a spangled, albeit slightly smoggy backdrop for the brooch-styled barrettes.  I've worn it only once, to the movies.  This outfit, however, is ideal for clubbing in Juneau or Helsinki while downing mulled ciders and hot buttered rums.  Or, in my case, hot chocolates and herbal teas (see aforementioned sentence about me wearing this top to see Daddy's Home 2).  Because December is no time to guzzle the cold beverages so immortalized by the Sauce. 

So, about these barrettes.  I can't stop staring at them!  What can I say, their vivid colors and graphic shapes speak to me.  To make them, I decided not to fool with the craft store fare of openwork metal French and alligator clips and instead headed straight to the source, a.k.a. the grocery store grooming aisle, for Scunci and Goody.  These high-quality barrettes are comprised of French clips covered with durable plastic bars that make sturdy perches for cabochons.  The finished products make me think of candy, all colorful and shiny.  And yes, tasty.  Is it bad form to call one's own stuff tasty?  Not according to wannabe rap icon Big Tasty.  Then again, it's probably bad form to view the misguided middle kid from The Goldbergs as any kind of role model.  

One thing's for sure; these barrettes are a step up from the first barrette I ever made, which featured a weird, disembodied harlequin head.  I was about ten and big into harlequins, which were everywhere in the '90s.  Don't ask.  Anyway, the barrette was a big, gold-rimmed white plastic rectangle to which I affixed a ceramic sparkly green and purple turbanned head.  It was pretty heavy (figuratively and literally, clown motifs always being disturbing), and I don't think I ever wore it.  Kind of like how I rarely played with my Lite Brite set.  That was more of my sister's thing (literally; it was her toy.)  Maybe that was because of the if-not-menacing-than-unquestionably-unsettling clown head on the box.  The head that was most certainly that of a workaday circus performer and not a high-brow harlequin.  

It always comes back to clowns.  Maybe they're the ones we shouldn't feed after midnight.  

Evergreen Screen, Tinseltown Tannenbaum

Me and 3G have decided to give picture-less posting another try.  Now, usually I use my photos-slash-projects as the basis of my hook.  You know, that thread that, however tenuously, ties all my nonsense together.  So this time -- heads up -- I'm using the pictures in my mind.

Let us consider the Christmas tree.  It's but a pleat in Mother Nature's dark green gown, a relic of the outdoors that we bring indoors and domesticate with acres of lights and ornaments, some store-bought, some handmade, some elegant, some primitive, all of them converging in a joyful jumble that should look ridiculous but doesn't.  Yet even all dressed up, sometimes the Christmas tree misbehaves.  Sometimes it falls, narrowly missing Grandpa as he sleeps off his eggnog; other times it hatches insects and reptiles, reminding us that it's still wild and unpredictable despite our efforts to make it conform to our carefully curated winter wonderlands.  But that's okay.  Because at the end of the (holi)day, it's the crazy that makes it Christmas.

Which is pretty much the message of every Christmas movie ever, including the two I just saw: Daddy's Home 2 and A Bad Moms Christmas.  (See what I did there?  Hook, line, and stinker.) Boys will be boys and girls just want to have fun in these festive family free-for-alls.  No sophomore slumps for these sequels; both assault and then rescue Christmas with all the hijinks and heart we've come to expect from holiday features.  Daddy's Home 2 revisits the blended family blues, this time with a marshmallow of a John Lithgow and a hard-ass Mel Gibson joining Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg to stir the Bailey's-spiked hot chocolate pot.  And in A Bad Moms Christmas, Mila Kunis, Kristen Bell, and Kathryn Hahn take a break from being bad moms to deal with having bad moms, namely the trying trio of Christine Baranski, Cheryl Hines, and Susan Sarandon.  Through criticism, smothering, and good old-fashioned neglect, these mamas serve up fare far worse than fruitcake.  Guess Will Smith was right: parents just don't understand.  Well, at least not until they see the light -- on top of the Christmas tree.  Yep, the very same one harboring larvae and snakes, although no such snafu took place in either movie (but, hey, maybe should have).

You know, the last time I blogged about Daddy's Home, I compared it to Sisters.  And I said (something like) "I liked Daddy's Home better, but Sisters taught me more."  Well, this time I didn't learn anything, and I preferred Bad Moms. Which shows, I think, a modicum of personal growth (because it takes guts to admit that knowledge isn't always power), something our friend the Christmas tree knows lots about.

Oh, Tannenbaum, can't wait to light your candle.