Bohemian Barbie Jumps for Joy

 Funky Feather Bunch Barrette

Dress: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Gifted

Scarf: The Tote Trove, repurposed from We Love Colors

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: JCPenney

 Southwest Sandy Necklace

Sweater: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Jeans: Mudd, Kohl's

Shoes: Madden Girl, Macy's

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Jacket: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Sunglasses: JCPenney

 Un-mellow Yellow Necklace

Top: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Skirt: Lily Rose, Kohl's

Shoes: City Streets, JCPenney

Bag: Marshalls

Coat: Worthington, JCPenney

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

 Sweet Treats Necklace

Sweater: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Jeans: Mudd, Kohl's

Shoes: Qupid, DSW

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Bohemian Barbie is what I should call about seventy-five percent of my posts.  Aztec and animal prints, feathers, denim, and sun-ripened rainbows strung together by bright beads conspire to look like they tumbled out of the nearest caravan (and I don't mean the one made by Chevy).  Yet despite her plethora of personas, I can't say that I recall Barbie ever embodying this fashion flavor.  Maybe it's not glam enough, or maybe it's too political a style statement.  All I know is, if I were a kid I'd be delighted, right down to the inflatable cactus and tinsel-bright tumbleweed accessories that would accompany the fringed-caftan-draped blonde one camped out in the pink cardboard box.  I have faith in her and think she can rough it (see below, where she takes on the wilderness, albeit red carpet-ready).  Because we girls can do anything, right Barbie?

I like to think that Joy Mangano, the inspiration for David O. Russell's Joy starring Jennifer Lawrence, would agree.  In the beginning of the movie, we see young Joy crafting a white paper fantasy world, talking about her dream of one day making wonderful things for everyone everywhere.  Fast forward some twenty years later to a dead-end job, a divorce, a mortgage, and a crazy extended family living under her roof. To say the least, things haven't turned out the way Joy thought they would.  One day she seems to be at rock bottom, using an old-school mop to clean up some red wine her ex-husband spilled on the precious teak deck of her dad's (Robert de Niro's) girlfriend's (Isabella Rossellini's) sailboat.  She gets shards of glass in her hands -- but she also gets a brainstorm.  What if she'd been able to use a mop that she didn't need to wring out manually?  Now, I know that mops aren't all that exciting.  And I myself almost never use one.  But Joy's been through so much -- she's the poster child for the downtrodden woman -- and her austere yet sincere enthusiasm is nothing short of infectious.  (Besides, her plight did bring me back to the time I had to use a nasty old, non-self-ringing mop during my stint at the local CVS.  And rest assured, it was disgusting.)  So, I was amped for Joy and her revolutionary household helper. Re-energized by her idea, Joy holes up in her daughter's bedroom, using crayons to design the Miracle Mop, an uber-absorbent device made up of a lightweight plastic rod and a detachable head that can be tossed into the washing machine.  She builds a prototype and is off and running.  Sort of.  It becomes clear that Joy's journey will be anything but smooth as she embarks, Cinderella-style, on a fool's errand mission to sell her product despite endless obstacles from rival inventors, QVC executives (most notably a hard-nosed but open-minded Bradley Cooper), lawyers, and her own family.  Throughout it all, the mop emerges as an all-encompassing symbol, coming to mean second chances (getting a clean slate), class mobility (from scrubbing the floors to running the show), feminism (controlling the mop -- and indeed, the domestic messes -- that once controlled you) and yes, a little magic (cue those dancing broomsticks from Fantasia because by this time we're in need of some silly).  As a bonus, Susan Lucci appears as a big-haired fictional soap star seen through only the lens of Joy's mom's TV, and Melissa Rivers is an uncannily convincing Joan Rivers selling jewelry on QVC.  Still, at the heart of this film is the business of wonder, of the fine, intangible, insistent things that work to help you get it done.  It's a classic underdog, American dream kind of story, and Lawrence shines as the heroine who never stops kicking -- even if it means maybe risking her glass slipper.  

Who knows?  Maybe someday Mattel will come up with a Joy Mangano Barbie, complete with snazzy suit and pink -- no, rainbow -- glittery mop.  Put in your bids now, QVC.

Movie Moment: Silver Linings Playbook

I didn't think I was going to like Silver Linings Playbook.  But I always go to the movies on my birthday, and that was the only one out that I hadn't seen (or would consider seeing).  Also, I'd already gotten the idea to photograph my silver clothes and accessories to post with the review, and I wasn't about to abandon that pipe dream.

Football and ballroom dancing, strung together by the threads of grief and mental illness, shouldn't have made for a cohesive story, much less a moving one.  Also, I've never really liked Bradley Cooper on account that I think he's cocky.  Yet despite all of this, I was hooked.

We meet Pat Solitano (Cooper) as he is being sprung from a Baltimore mental institution by his mother.  Although the courts have discouraged the release of the bipolar Pat, who nearly beat his wife's lover to a pulp, they have allowed him to re-enter the world on the condition that he lives with his parents, namely said concerned mother and a just-laid-off Eagles fan fanatic of a father (Robert De Niro) who has plenty of problems of his own.

Still obsessed with his high school English teacher wife, Pat insists that his mother stop at the library on their way home (Philly, haven of hardasses and Eagles enthusiasts) so he can check out all the books on her syllabus.  Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms tops the list, and Pat devours it only to hurl it out the (closed) window in the middle of the night and storm into his parents' bedroom to rant about the sad ending and the unfairness of life and the refusal of Hemingway and all his ilk to give an already-suffering world just one measly silver lining.  It's an impassioned and funny scene (and one I appreciated, having never been a Hemingway fan) that shows just how much Pat is hurting.  It is this vulnerability, despite his violence, that makes him so sympathetic.

No second chance saga is complete without a love interest, and Pat finds his in Tiffany, a new widow and recovering nymphomaniac.  Not that he readily admits his attraction.  Tiffany gives him a run for his money in the hard words department, and he initially resists her friendship on the grounds that he wants to reconcile with his wife.  But Tiffany ambushes him one time too many on one of his trash-bag-clad (all the better to sweat in) runs, and after several unfiltered, in-your-face exchanges, he finds himself agreeing to be her partner in - of all things - a ballroom dancing competition.

Character-driven and introspective, Silver Linings is about two damaged people trying to make a go of it in this crazy, mixed-up world.  It's honest and unvarnished and makes sense of the idea that we're all just a little bit crazy.  Believe it or not, I left the theater in a much better frame of mind than when the credits rolled for This is 40.  Uplifting, indeed.

Movie Moment: X-Men: First Class

I've been watching a lot of movies lately.

The most recent was X-Men: First Class. I wasn't too keen on seeing it. It was the bf's pick, and while I enjoy the occasional Marvel movie adaptation, I'm more of a Spider-Man kind of girl. Nevertheless, I'd seen all of the other X-Men installments, so it was kind of interesting to find out how some of the mutants came to be who they are through the lens of this 1960s-era prequel. For example, the smoldering go-to-hell Mystique (in this version Jennifer Lawrence) was once a scared little girl hiding her blue scales and red hair. Beast (Nicholas Hoult) was a glasses-wearing nerd, and Magneto (Michael Fassbender) began on the side of the mutants before killing his mentor (a menacing Kevin Bacon) and crossing over to the dark side. All that and we find out how Xavier (James McAvoy) becomes wheelchair-bound, too. Despite the convoluted, somewhat drawn-out plot, these kernels of information provided the kind of human interest necessary to keep my interest in a movie barraged by explosions and guns. The 1960s fashions helped, too. At least I didn't fall asleep like I did during Transformers 2 at the IMAX a few years back. With Transformers 3 out in theaters, I may want to stock up on Coca Cola . . .