Double Rainbow, Double Dier

 Red Pompom Bow Barrette

 Red Rainbow Rose Necklace

 Snow Bright Bangle

Sweater: Macy's

Skirt: Dolls Kill

Shoes: Christian Siriano for Payless

Bag: Candie's, Kohl's

 Ballerina Baby Earrings

 Mint Rainbow Rose Necklace

 Clara Cupcakes Charm Bracelet

Sweater: Macy's

Skirt: Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: City Streets, JCPenney

I've always been into rainbows.  There's a Christmas morning home movie of five-year-old me fiercely clutching a brand-new Rainbow Brite doll and setting up the Color Cottage with the focus of a hibachi grill chef.  My little sister toddles over to me to show me her new Cabbage Patch preemie Noreen Rhoda (the only thing weirder than those dolls' names were their Xavier Roberts butt tattoos).  And I scream for her to go away.  Obviously, I'm too busy seating the sprites at their wavy-edged, pink plastic table.  Does this behavior reveal that little me could be a tantrum-throwing Gremlin?  For sure.  But does it also show my love for the sacred spectrum?  Um, does the hibachi grill chef burn Big Bertha's perm when he's flipping the shrimp and singing happy birthday?

Spoiler alert.  He does.  Sometimes.

A few years ago, my sister gave me this Rainbow Brite Itty Bitty.  Which makes me feel like even more of a villain.  If only I could reciprocate with a bobble head Noreen Rhoda.  If you're listening, Xavier, get on it.

Anyway, they say that double rainbows are rare.  (They also say something else, but I won't go into that here.)  Which is why these twin rainbow sweaters are so awesome and cute and give me all the '90s feels.  (I refer, of course, to fashion feels, as most other feels from my teen years are locked in a mental drawer marked do no resuscitate).

Do you know what's almost as rare as a double rainbow?  Brett Dier's reign on Wednesday night TV.  I know that Brett Dier isn't a household name and that this announcement may be underwhelming.  Also, that it has nothing to do with anything else I've said.  But I'm okay with that.

What are the odds that Dier's new sitcom Schooled and his old dramedy Jane the Virgin would air on the same night on different networks, back to back?  And that it would all be so symbolically full circle?  Because Schooled is in its freshman year and Jane is sadly ending.  (Some) Jane fans fell in love with Dier's Michael five seasons ago and are still reeling from his return from the dead.  Not only was it super stirring and emotional, it put Jane (Gina Rodriguez) right back where she started, forced to choose between Michael -- her husband -- and Rafael (Justin Baldoni) -- the father of her child.  Never mind that she was accidentally artificially inseminated when she was still a virgin, before she'd even properly met Raf.  Because Jane is, as the narrator often and snarkily tells us, a telenovella.  As for Schooled, we're just getting to know Dier's C.B. as a slightly Michael-esque but also slightly annoying hey-kids-I'm-your-friend-not-just-your-teacher-and-I'm-wearing-the-jeans-and-wacky-ties to prove it kind of guy.  Yet nerdy or not, he seems destined to date fellow teacher and rebel with a heart of gold Lainey (AJ Michalka).  If you think that Lainey's too cool for this fool, think again.  After all, she was engaged to Barry Goldberg.  And who knows; she could still rekindle that flame.  Which would leave old Brett (or as my sister calls him, triangle face) to play second fiddle a second time.  Because my spidey senses tell me that Jane will be riding off into the sunset with Raf.  And I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Time to change the subject.

When I wore rainbow-rama outfit number one, I was so excited that I decided to photograph myself in it.  This meant breaking out this here selfie stick, which my mom gave me almost six years ago for my wedding.  I'd never used it before, which is obvious from the frustrated look on my face.  The subpar camera on my 3G phone wasn't helping.  But then I thought, who cares?  The graininess and washed out colors make this pic look like it's from back in the day.  Which is fitting because this outfit could've come straight out of the costume trailer of That '70s Show.  "But Tote Trove lady," you may be (but probably most definitely are not) thinking, "you said this was a 90s look!"  So I did.  But when I wore stuff like this in the '90s, my mom would say that it was just like something she'd worn in college.  So even fashion -- especially fashion -- comes full circle.  Everything old becomes new again.  And like Dier, rainbows never say die.

All of this philosophizing has me craving shrimp. Hold the hair spray; I'm headed to the hibachi.

Spin-off Kilt-er Filter: 90s Knits and Hits

Kitschy Compass Rainbow Rampage Necklace

Top: Wild Fable, Target

Skirt: Dickie's, Dolls Kill

Boots: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Socks: Gifted

Bag: Olivia Miller, JCPenney

Belt: Wild Fable, Target

 Menagerie Madness Rainbow Rampage Necklace

Blouse: Bongo, Sears

Skirt: Vanilla Star, Macy's

Shoes: Betsey Johnson, DSW

Bag: Sleepyville Critters, Zulily

 Black and Cream Dream Necklace

Sweater: Hearts & Roses London, Zulily

Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Shoes: Penny Loves Kenny, Zulily

Bag: Tee Shirt & Jeans, Kohl's

Red bangle: B Fabulous

Cream bangle: Mixit, JCPenney

Unicorn Garden Rainbow Rampage Necklace 

Top: TJ Maxx

Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Boots: Simply Vera, Kohl's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Modcloth

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

When I first saw the commercials for The Goldbergs spin-off Schooled, I was like, "What?!  How are they going to have a '90s-something sitcom about Barry's girlfriend Lainey when the '80s-something Goldbergs is still on the air?!"  But then I saw The Goldbergs episode where Barry (who's a high school senior) and Lainey (who's a college dropout) struggle to end their engagement, and all became clear.  Although they're still in love, they don't want to get married.  Because they live in the 1980s, not the 1890s!  Anyway, Lainey makes the decision easy -- or as easy as it can be -- by leaving Jenkintown for LA to chase her dream of becoming a rock star with no more than a goodbye (VHS, of course) video.  So, she's out of the '80s and out of Beverly's kitchen, freeing her to become the new chorus teacher at her old high school a decade or so later.  Yet despite this tidy send-off/set-up, I remained suspicious.  Would Schooled work or merely be a flash in the pan?  Still, either way, I knew I would watch it.  Because if there's a sitcom on TV, then I tune in.  Even if it's one of the bad ones.  

Luckily, Schooled turned out to be one of the good ones.  I don't know if it was Lainey's classic underdog-meets-feisty-fish-out-of-water character, the abundance of chokers and plaid miniskirts, the sweet swell of '90s pop rock classics, or even the appearance of Brett Dier (Jane the Virgin's Michael) as curly coiffed English teacher extraordinaire and Lainey's nascent love interest.  But I was sunk by the end of the pilot.  The haunting yet hopeful strains of The Smashing Pumpkins's "Today" playing as Lainey's students mosh for their school concert instead of crooning a barbershop quartet might have cinched it.  Because although I talk a lot about my love for '80s trends and pop culture, at heart, I'm a '90s chick (or, as Icona Pop originally intended, a '90s bitch.  Why the FCC dubbed that out but let Meredith Brooks belt out her '90s anthem "Bitch" over the airwaves remains a mystery to me.  Perhaps the '90s were a kinder, gentler -- and yet somehow more badass -- time.).  People identify most with the decade when they came of age, and I'm no different.  To this day, when I hear Weezer or the Cranberries or Better than Ezra or any other angsty group of that era, I feel this kind of euphoric melancholy (if there is such a thing), like nothing and everything is possible all at once.  Although I like all kinds of music, it's this stuff that seems the best and most real to me, like it's delivering a personal message.  You know.  Like the super-intense, self-absorbed way you feel about everything when you're a teenager.  

On a less introspective note, in the '90s I was also into plaid minis.  I had dozens and now wish that I hadn't given them all to Goodwill.  Fortunately, like rainbows, chenille, faux fur, checkerboard prints, and ring zippers, they're having a moment again.  So I restocked my closet.  This week I put together not one, not two, not three, but four outfits in which Scotch skirts rule.  Here they are by themselves, photographed Warhol-style:

That said, Schooled has fashion, nostalgia, and nostalgic fashion all locked up.  But more importantly, like The Goldbergs, it's also a (putting on my adult voice now) quality program.  Part of the genius of The Goldbergs is that grown-up Adam's voice-over never tells you exactly which year it is, just that it's such and such a date in 1980-something.  This frees the show to reference movies, songs, and fashions of the time in keeping with the storyline instead of the date without prompting nitpicky viewers to protest exactly when said stuff hit the market.  Not that some viewers don't do that anyway (I've seen that Fan Corrections segment on Conan; I know that there are basement-dwelling Internet trolls as far as a Nielsen box can reach).  The point is, The Goldbergs isn't about being a factually perfect chronicle of what happened during an iconic decade.  It's not The Eighties on CNN, or even I Love the 80s on VH1.  It's about creating a tribute to all the things everyone loves about this decade, all the little slice-of-life snippets that make it what it is in our memories.  Also, the show is equal parts big laughs and heart, which is a sure-fire formula for any sitcom.  No one wants to love a family who isn't funny, just as no one wants to laugh if they don't care about the family in the first place.  And Schooled is following in The Goldbergs's neon pump footsteps.  In addition to offering up relatable and hilarious characters, witty dialogue, and colorful costumes and sets, it continues its predecessor's pop culture pulse tradition.  The first two episodes are chockful of '90s references including but not limited to Kurt Cobain, Zima, She's All That, Discman, and Mrs. Doubtfire.  Also, the first episode opens with Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch's "Good Vibrations."  If that doesn't set the tone for a bitchin' school year and TV series, than I don't know what does.  So, gold star, Adam F. Goldberg.

Can't wait to see what you teach us next.

Ribbons and Bows and Lots of New Clothes: I Enjoy being a (Gilmore) Girl

Top: Monteau, Marshalls
Jeans: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's
Bag: Glamour Damaged, Etsy
Shoes: Penny Loves Kenny, DSW

Blue and Lime Dot Double Bow Barrette 

Peach and White Stripe Double Bow Barrette 

Embellished skirt: Macy's
Ruffle skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney
Pockets skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Rainbow Ribbon Necklace

I was already planning on the ribbons and bows and clothes component of this post. Because there are few things I enjoy more than trotting out the still-tagged items in my staging closet. What's a staging closet, you ask? In my case, it's the tiny, old-timey closet adjacent to the actual closet in my bedroom. I like to think that it was where some stray cat slept back in 1927 when this house was built (not really; I'm not a cat person and don't know why I said that. Maybe because it sounded more PC than saying a servant slept there or something.) The husband uses the actual closet, whereas my closet is one of the spare bedrooms. Yes, you read that correctly. An entire bedroom is my closet -- and it's full. Maybe someday when I'm feeling brave and/or braggy I'll photograph it and post it here.  But let's get back to the matter at hand, namely, what do I keep in the staging closet? Clothes I haven't worn yet. Also, less glamorously, my winter pajamas, workout clothes (i.e. hole-speckled over-sized tees, hoodies with broken zippers, and exactly three pairs of sweatpants). Anyway, I was all set to center this post around my old faithful and favorite topic of fashion when I read Lauren Graham's Talking as Fast as I Can: From Gilmore Girls to Gilmore Girls (and Everything in Between). And I thought, hey, why not throw in something a little cerebral? What's that? An autobiography by an actress is about as cerebral as a smoothie? Maybe some of them, but not this one. And also, smoothies are good for you.

I used to watch "Gilmore Girls" back in the day, but I sense that there are episodes, or maybe even whole seasons, I missed. (Clearly, I wasn't always the loyal TV devotee that you know and love today.) But I remember really liking it. Lorelai and Rory had the kind of cool, best-friendsy relationship that every mother and daughter wanted, and no small screen duo has come close since, except for maybe Jane and Xiomara from "Jane the Virgin" (which, like "Gilmore Girls" once did, airs on the CW. Coincidence? I think not.). Lorelai and Rory's snappy, adjective-laden dialogue was the kind you'd find in a quality chick lit novel, and the setting of Stars Hollow was postcard perfect in a modern-day Norman Rockwell, college town kind of way, making it an ideal backdrop for all those conversations.

Which brings me to Talking as Fast as I Can. You know that I love autobiographies by comediennes, and this is a really good one. In no small part, I'm sure, because Graham is not just an actress, but a writer (she wrote the semi-autobiographical novel Someday, Someday, Maybe. I know it's only semi-autobiographical because she goes to great lengths to correct the misconception that it is entirely autobiographical in Fast.). This book is filled with the kind of random observations and personal anecdotes that I've come to love in light-hearted memoirs. One of my favorite parts is when Graham introduces her alter ego, Old Lady Jackson (OLJ for short). She invented OLJ to give advice to her young costars on Parenthood so she wouldn't sound like a stick in the mud. For example:

"OLJ is (obviously overly) worried about things like that dating app that wants you to have your location on all the time (how is that possibly safe?) and the fact that all you ate yesterday were liquids that came in mason jars from that juice place on the corner (really? No solid foods at all?). OLJ doesn't love it when that guy texts you at eleven o' clock on a Friday night after you haven't heard from him all week and wants you to "hang out," and you do. She's worried that you aren't being treated as well as you deserve, and while she understands that "things are different now," surely there have to still be people out there with better manners and an ability to make plans with you at least a day or two ahead of time?" (158)

Classic, right? A real Mary Poppins for the digital age. Even if it is for the clubbing vs. Romper Room set. (Please, no notes about how "Romper Room" came out long after Mary Poppins.)

I just may go back and watch the entire series ("Gilmore Girls," not "Romper Room"), then launch right into the much-anticipated Netflix "Gilmore Girls" special "A Year in the Life."

Because Stars Hollow is a happy place, one where new clothes and flowery prose are celebrated in equal measure.

And also to see if I can find the ghost (or, what the heck, cat) embodying the spirit of Old Lady Jackson.

Romper Room Vroom: Three's Company Hue

Blues Cues Charm Necklace

Pretty Parfait Whistle Purse Charm

Top: Liz Claiborne, Marshalls
Skirt: Modcloth
Shoes: Christian Siriano for Payless
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's
Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's
Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Prehistoric Princess Necklace

Top: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Shorts: Merona, Target

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Betsey Johnson

Sunglasses: The Tote Trove

Brenda Bow Necklace 

Pretty Parfait Elephant Purse Charm 

Top: Wet Seal
Skirt: Stoosh, Macy's
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's
Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

I said I'd never wear a romper.  Not only do they present a bathroom conundrum, but they kind of sort of scream three-year-old (a demographic that is, incidentally, no stranger to potty problems).  And yet, there's still something about them.  I blame this on my childhood fascination with "Three's Company" reruns (really, every six-year-old should be so invested in the antics of Santa Monica singles).  So, I found myself trying on two in the past week: a candy striped confection from Kohl's and a floral affair from JCPenney.  And each time it was, as I predicted, a very bad scene.  Ladies (and gentlemen; I'm not here to judge), if you've ever been in a fitting room struggling to squeeze into a garment and have heard the heart-stopping sound of seams ripping, then you know exactly what I mean.  Needless to say, I went home empty-handed.  And promptly ordered this ice cream truck from Amazon:

Ice cream means summer, and summer means shorts.  Which is why I have a cute flowered pair (ice cream!) sandwiched between two skirts in this week's ensembles.  Of course, in this post, ice cream also means purse charms.  I had the best time recreating the same colorful parfaits I used to make my Sherbet Shenanigans Necklaces.  Only this time I paired them with -- you guessed it -- Flash Charms!  Despite my recent lament that I'd soon be out of these totally 1980s treasures, they've proved themselves to be the bottomless pasta bowl of my craft supply collection (not sure if I'm ripping off the Olive Garden or beloved children's book Strega Nona here, but I'm a happy camper as long as crafts and carbs are in abundance).  I even had enough charms left over to make my Blues Cues necklace, which fit in so well with its non-Flash Charm school companions.  I'm talking to you, Brenda Bow and Prehistoric Princess.  I don't know about you (you the reader, not you the necklaces), but I love living in a world where ribbons and reptiles can peacefully coexist.  Also, mythical rompers.

Perhaps somewhere out there in syndication Suzanne Somers is rocking a terry cloth number.  Even though Suzanne played Chrissy, not, ahem, her successor Terri.  That honor went to Priscilla Barnes.  Who, by the way, is now a paunchy villainess on "Jane the Virgin."  These days she favors caftans . . . and, more recently, an orange jumpsuit.  

Which is, when you think about it, just another kind of (oh so wrong) romper.

If Y is for Yellow, then J is for Jaune, er, Jane

 Sassy Stripes Gumball Necklace

Top: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Skirt: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Shoes: Venus

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: JCPenney

 Lock it Up, Love Necklace

Top: Self Esteem, JCPenney

Skirt: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: a. n. a., JCPenney

Bag: Marshalls

Sunglasses: JCPenney

 Mighty Bright Medallion Necklace

Top: Merona, Target

Skirt: Eric and Lani, Macy's

Shoes: Guess, DSW

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Belt: Marshalls

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Yellow is one of my favorite colors.  Sunny, happy, and vibrant, it sets any scene or ensemble ablaze.  So, as spring ripens into summer, I'm always glad to see it take center stage.  Just like I'm glad to be painting my toenails after months of hibernating in closed-toe clodhoppers, taking walks without a jacket, and ordering ice cream instead of hot chocolate.  But amidst all these warm weather welcomes skulks the bittersweet threat of good-bye.  That's right, I'm talking about TV series season finales -- finales that, more often than not, leave us teetering on the edge of gut-wrenching cliffhangers.

Of all the shows I watch, the one dangling upon the most precarious precipice is Jane the Virgin.  As soon as I tuned in to this CW freshman dramedy, I was hooked.  A kind of cerebral soap opera that pokes fun at itself through the wry observations (and captions -- no multi-tasking while watching this one!) of a world-weary narrator, this Miami-based, more-than-a-melodrama lauds and lampoons the telenovela genre, delivering intrigue and heart through an impressive network of original plot lines, the, ahem, mother of which is Jane's accidental pregnancy via artificial insemination.  Jane's virginity complicates an already surreal situation, challenging her relationship with fiancé (and local detective) Michael while tossing her into the maelstrom of madness that is the Solano family.  For, the father of Jane's little miracle is married former playboy and Marbella Hotel heir Rafael Solano, who just happens to be, in a telenovela-worthy twist, her boss.  But at an exceptionally grown-up twenty-three, Jane is level-headed enough to handle it all with grace, humor, and a sense of adventure.  And why not?  She's got the live-in emotional support of fiery, aspiring singer mom Xiomara and straitlaced but sweet grandmom Alba, not to mention a sure-thing future as a teacher.

But then things begin to unravel.  Jane discovers that the father she never knew is the purple suit-clad, obliviously vain (and hilarious!) star of her favorite telenovela.  She forges an unlikely friendship with Rafael.  And she turns down a teaching job to pursue her dream of becoming a writer.  What's more, weird stuff starts happening at the Marbella, casting suspicion upon the entire Solano family, a development that conveniently requires the services of one Detective Michael Cordero.

Employing a well-rounded arsenal of satire, flashbacks, dream sequences, and eye-catching outfits, Jane the Virgin is the everything bagel of the TV breakfast buffet (even though I hate bagels).  It's at the same time dazzling and deep, smart yet surprisingly poignant.  Which is why, I suppose, the season finale packed such a punch.

So what, pray tell, was the shocker?  For once, I'm not going to say.  I'm going to practice restraint and retain some mystery.  Not that the answer isn't lurking in about a zillion other internet outlets or in your very own memory given the show's popularity (that, and the finale aired a whole week ago).

Speaking of which, I recently caught Golden Globe winner Jane, or rather, Gina Rodriguez, on Access Hollywood or Entertainment Tonight or one of those shows being interviewed about her skyrocketing stardom.  "How does it feel to know that you can buy those shoes?" archly asked the reporter, no doubt referencing Louboutins or some such seemingly hallowed brand.  Gina looked baffled before offering a very Jane-like response: "Uh, I gave some money to my grandmother?"  Now, I like shoes as much as the next girl, but I thought that this was as good and genuine an answer as any.

Alba would be proud.