One Climb at a Time: Lisa Turtle Power

Top to bottom: Chase & Chloe, Zulily; Worthington, JCPenney; Chase & Chloe, Zulily

It's not unusual for shoes to be the first thing you see here at The Tote Trove.  But this time, they're not just about style -- they're about making strides -- while in style.  Because March is Women's History Month, and March 8 is International Women's Day.  Which, I'm aware, was yesterday (insert joke about women always being late.  What, no girl-on-girl crime, hashtag Mean Girls, when promoting gender equality?  Okay, Tina Fey, duly noted.)  A few years ago, Stephen Colbert did a bit on The Late Show about this special day, which I remember in a degree of detail because I logged it in my "Stuff to Write about Someday" Word file (most of which is flagged "do not publish until in witness protection").  Colbert was talking about a new Barbie-esque doll that was something worthy but boring, like an ambassador or a crossing guard who moonlights as an accountant.  And he was like, isn't it enough that little girls have to deal with all the issues that come with being female?  Why, in the name of proving themselves, do they have to play with lame toys too?  No one makes boys do that.  They get to play with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!  

This really resonated with me.  Because wouldn't the truly feminist move be to encourage girls to play with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles too?  Or the frilliest, glitziest Barbie?  Or whatever they want, not for the optics, but for the fun of it?  

So.  In celebration of all things shamelessly -- no, proudly -- frivolously feminine, here's a simply red (cue "Lady in Red") grouping of some of my more photogenic cosmetics.  

Body butter: The Body Shop, Zulily; Elizabeth Arden Red Door, Marshalls; Clinique lipstick: Boscov's; Mulan compact, Zulily

Note the Mulan compact, which is truly badass in terms of girls slaying it, whether on the battlefield or in the bathroom.  

Also, there's a turtle tee!  

Tee shirt, Macy's

Girls, hands off Leonardo; he's mine!  (Sorry, Tina.  I backslid into competitive mean girl mode there.)  

It isn't lost on me that the color scheme of the makeup and the tee is Red Hat Society-approved red and purple.  Because nothing says female empowerment like a posse of post-menopausal, chapeau-domed women commandeering an Applebee's.

Unless it's Lisa Turtle killing it in a  -- what else? -- red hat!

I knew I'd use those Saved by the Bell cards again.

That said, Lisa Turtle Power, although a sick pun if I do say so myself, is too close for comfort to Lisa Turtle Powers.  As in Screech Powers (Dustin Diamond, RIP).  I blame Mattel for starting it all by forcing Lisa to share a card with Screech.  It's not very Women's History Month of them, especially as the birthplace of Barbie.  I smell another comic Colbert exposé.  

Until then, sorry, Lisa.  

And, as always, Tina Fey.

Complexion Confection: Matte as a Pancake

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily

I was going through my shoes the other day when I found these spectator T-straps and thought, Oh, they look like pancakes.  No, there isn't a different color for each foot (because I'm not Helena Bonham Carter; although that would be badass, wouldn't it?); I have two pairs, one yellow and one tan.  But together they reminded me of butter and maple syrup and made me miss the days when you could go out to brunch without fear of catching, not just ptomaine from a gross griddle grill, but the plague.  Yet they didn't make me miss it enough to make breakfast (let's not get crazy now).  Instead, they inspired me to unearth my old Fabulous Felt Pancakes barrette and build a new outfit around it.  

Fabulous Felt Pancakes Barrette

This barrette, as you may recall, started an argument between a mother and son (hashtag barrette brawl) in A.C. Moore back before that store became just another brick and mortar casualty and, consequently, a playground for rats.  Their dialogue went something like this:  Mom: "They're flowers!"  Son: "No, they're pancakes!"  Mom: "They're flowers!  Me (but only after they asked for my intervention): "They're pancakes."  Insert self-deprecating smile.  

Anyway, this sweater is one of my favorites (so cozy and yellow!), and the scarf all but screams Hershey's Kisses. 

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Clockwise (starting with amber): Cloud Nine, Ocean City; B Fabulous; Mixit, JCPenney; Target; So, Kohl's

Sweater: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Breakfast pancakes, by the way, make me think of the other kind of pancake (lots of trains of thought going off the rails here), namely pancake makeup.  And the very best pancake powder on the market is Coty Airspun.  I've been wearing it since high school (except for a brief period when my stuck-up sophomore self would cover my zits with only Elizabeth Arden), and it's never steered me wrong.  Although light and airy (it's right there in the name: airspun), it provides incredible coverage, concealing blemishes so that my skin looks as matte and flat as, well, a pancake.  But then, Coty knows what it's doing.  The company's been cranking out this miracle makeup since 1935.  The big powder puffs on the canister even mimic those on the original cardboard packaging.  Which is so glam and retro.  And also kind of endearing.   

So, the next time I go out for a big stack of buttery pancakes, even if it's forever and a day from now on account of COVID, I'll be wearing a thick coat of this precious powder.  (Also, probably a colorful winter coat, but that's less relevant.)  

Because as many a wise and vain person has said, it's better to have pancake on your face than egg.

Red Barn Yarn: Sevens to Betsey and Then Some

Dress: Xhilaration, Target
Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily
Bag: Fred Flare
Purse Charm: Carole, JCPenney
Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon
Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

 Fabulous Felt Red Barn Barrette

In general, I'm not big on big brand names.  But I do love a good Betsey bag.  By bargain hunting and being lucky enough to receive many as gifts over the years, I've amassed quite a collection.  Now I have, not seven, but twenty-two (even if one is a lunch bag).  So, I thought it'd be fun to round them all up for a photo shoot.  (My apologies to the shoe montages of yore; I know it's tough, but try not to be jelly.  Unless, of course, you are jellies, in which case, get out here, I've been looking for you!)  

It's hard to say which bag is my favorite, but if pressed, then I'd have to go with the (smaller) rainbow, followed by the roller skate and mushroom.  Curiously, I get the most use out of the pretzel.  The brown makes for a nice neutral.

But we're not spending this entire post in handbag heaven.  Instead, we're floating on over to another kind of great hereafter with Fannie Flagg's The Whole Town's Talking.

The Whole Town's Talking is the last in Flagg's Elmwood Springs series.  Set in a fictional small town in Missouri, the Springs stories are folksy and familiar and center around ordinary people who learn extraordinary things.  Flagg begins her narrative in the late 1800s when dairy farmer Lordor Nordstrom founds the then fledgling Swede Town.  Although Lordor is an innovator, he's shy and self-deprecating, and the new settlement doesn't offer many options in the way of a wife.  So he takes out an ad in the paper and meets the beautiful and gentle Katrina.  The two engage in a short courtship and, after a few sweet rom com-worthy mishaps, become man and wife.  Flagg goes on to chronicle the growth of the Nordstroms' dairy, the metamorphosis from Swede Town into Elmwood Springs, and the lives of the Nordstroms' descendants as well as the descendants of their neighbors.  The most endearing character is Aunt Elner.  A woman who doesn't worry about anything, she spreads hospitality like sunshine -- and keeps a can of pet worms on her coffee table.  (For the record, I'm no Aunt Elner.  I'm more like her neurotic niece Norma.  And not just because I'm skeeved out by worms, but because I worry about everything.)  Flagg shows us how Elmwood Springs reaches its heyday in the 1950s only to surrender to the sprawl of suburbia like so many other towns by 2020.

Yet the one thing that links Elmwood Springs and its inhabitants from generation to generation is its cemetery.  As people pass away, we get to see where they go when they die.  I know, I know.  It sounds morbid.  And it is.  At least a little.  In this way, it sort of reminds me of "Our Town," which is my favorite play.  But, like "Our Town," it's not just bittersweet -- it's thought provoking.  Because no matter what your own ideas about the afterlife, you can't help but compare them to Flagg's version and wonder who's got it right.  Which is a little comforting and a little scary.  When I said as much to the husband, he said, "Oh Tracy, it's just a story, one person's interpretation of things."  Which is true.  But it still sort of puts it all out there, opening a Pandora's box of possibilities -- and questions.

That said, The Whole Town's Talking is also warm and funny, a real crazy quilt of heartland characters.  (And yes, I know that I've used the crazy quilt metaphor before, but like all quilts, I like it, as its fluff keeps me and my prose cozy.)  There are several mentions of barns in it, too, which struck my fancy and led me to make this Fabulous Felt Red Barn Barrette.  I like barns because they remind me of Red Door perfume, which reminds me of my late grandmother, who wore it and called it Barn Door.  Now I wear it too, and I always save the pretty glass bottles.

My grandmother is on my mind more than usual because her birthday is this week.  Here's a picture of her when she was young:

Isn't she beautiful?  I especially love her hat.

Before I leave you, here's a shot of a dew-dappled elephant ear.

Because if the whole town's talking, then there'd better be someone -- or something -- down here listening.