Painted Pony Party

Boots: Penny Loves Kenny, Amazon

Palette Party Necklace

Top: POPSUGAR, Kohl's

Paint Party Earrings

Sweater: Hooked Up, Macy's

Jacket: Delia's, Dolls Kill

Hey You Unicorn Earrings

Purse: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Hey You Unicorn Necklace

Jacket: Marshalls

Fiery Fiesta Necklace

Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Fiery Fiesta Earrings

A painted pony party

Is the place to be

When you're still quarantining 

With your Christmas tree.

It's true.  I still have my tree up, along with the rest of my holiday hoopla.  Still, all I want to do is make jewelry and write posts.  And when I say jewelry, I mean the kind incorporating unicorns.

Girls have a history of being infatuated with horses, enchanted or otherwise.  On a recent episode of Young Sheldon, Sheldon's (Iain Armitage) twin sister Missy (Raegan Revord) supports the stereotype when she says this about her supplies for starting middle school: 

"I feel like this (Trapper Keeper) really says who I am now.  Missy got ponies; Melissa gets horses."

If shifting one's affections from ponies to horses is a rite of passage, then I'm not sure where unicorns fit in.  But I do know that at some point during adulthood, liking them once again becomes acceptable, in a campy/kooky/I'm-so-old-I'm-young-again sort of way.  Which is why I have no problem saying that I love them -- and that they're made of magic.  Well, magic and manure.  Even if the manure is, according to that Squatty Potty promo, in the form of rainbow-colored soft serve.  Here's some of my (non-manure spouting) unicorn stuff staged with my new Hey You Unicorn necklace and earrings:   

It kind of makes you want to step inside a Lisa Frank coloring book and stay there forever, doesn't it?

Yet, despite the wonder of unicorns and all things giddyap glam, the rodeo will never be Rodeo Drive. 

Nothing ever is.  Just ask Julia.

Rebel Romance Stance: Hearts and Glowers

Romance Rampage Necklace

Sweater: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Hollister, Marshalls

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Modcloth

Belt: Kohl's

Barrette: Carole, J. C. Penney's

Red bangle: XOXO, Ross

Strawberry bangle: B Fabulous

Today may be Presidents Day, but here at the Trove we're still having a fling with Cupid.  Sorry, Washington and Lincoln.  Maybe you should've swapped the wig and mole for diapers.  Also, I know that Cupid's a baby.  Which is weird.  But I won't overthink it if you don't. 

Anyhoo, I'm super excited about this Romance Rampage Necklace.  As if you couldn't tell from this pic where I'm wearing it.  (Hey, I had to test it and make sure that the beads didn't go rolling down the movie theater aisle, sending popcorn and grannies flying.)  Brace yourself -- this is the part where I get all saleslady-like and poetic:

A-twitter with red and pink hearts, a big red rose, and an abundance of glitzy rhinestones, the Romance Rampage Necklace is a cluttered cliche of love tokens, a bouquet of Valentine dream date delight.  

See?  It's a regular greeting card store explosion.  Just like the movie Isn't It Romantic.  

I probably shouldn't even bother to exclaim SPOILER ALERT! because if you've seen a rom com ever, then you already know everything I'm about to say.  But you know.  Politeness.  

I saw Isn't It Romantic yesterday, and it met all my expectations of what a snarky-sweet-spoof-of-slash-homage-to-rom coms should be.  Natalie (Rebel Wilson) is a big girl trying to find love in a little girl's world.  (By the way, isn't Natalie a lovely name?  Despite what that sod Blake says.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.)  Scratch that.  Natalie's not actually trying to find love.  She's trying not to find it.  And it's all because of her mother.  (Well, and society.  But mostly her mother.)  As a kid, she loved romantic comedies.  Then, one day, she's watching Pretty Woman, all but hypnotized by that scene where Julia Roberts accepts Richard Gere's invitation to stay for the week while cackling in the bubble bath, when her mom's all, sorry not sorry, happy endings aren't for girls like us.  Fast forward twenty years or so.  Natalie's a gifted but undervalued architect living in a tiny New York City apartment with a mangy mutt and a bunk bed.  The only bright spot is her friends, which include her rom com-loving assistant, Whitney, and her nerdy but well-meaning work pal, Josh (Adam Devine).  Yet despite their support, Nat's a negative Nancy (Natalie?) who looks at life as a cruel joke.  The one time she takes Whitney's advice to be more open she gets mugged.  Then she bumps her head and plunges into a dream/coma/parallel universe (because in movie land, these are all the same) where her dingy world is filtered through rose-colored glasses.  She's got the gay best friend, the massive closet full of every shoe she's ever wanted, and the fancy job complete with the nemesis (Surprise!  It's a catty Whitney.).  Not to mention a gorgeous guy all but stalking her in a swoony, benign, and rom-com-friendly way.  You know, as opposed to the kind that inspires restraining orders.  His name is Blake (of course), and he's played by Liam Hemsworth (double of course), and he just happens to be the hotelier bigwig that Natalie's architecture firm is trying sooo hard to woo.

Other rom com tropes flourish like kudzu (or, er, long-stemmed red roses).  There's the adorable act of gentle lawbreaking in the name of spontaneity (Was that a siren?  No matter!  Time to skip off to the next twee event!); the hero's confession of something awful that makes him seem more human (His favorite ice cream is butter pecan!  And his second favorite is rum raisin!); the other woman who's perfect and gorgeous; the unrealized love for the dorky best friend; the stopping of the big wedding; the heroine's realization that the hero is actually a heinous scumbag just out to use her for his own selfish gains . . . 

And finally, at the end, the cherry on top of the strawberry sundae -- the heroine's epiphany that the best romance is the one you have with yourself.

Wait, what?  That last one isn't part of the genre!  The heroine is almost always a prize to be won by a guy -- not the scumbag guy, that part checks out -- but the dorky guy who really deserves her!  Hmm.  Well, that happens here too.  But not before Nat realizes that 1) she doesn't need anyone else to complete her (take that, Jerry Maguire) and 2) that her male neighbor really is gay.  Turns out that all those girls coming out of his apartment were just there to buy weed.      

So, Natalie sees that her real life, bunk bed and all, is better than the glossy dream version.  Because it's hers, and no one is trying to change her name.  (Georgina?  Really, Blake?  It's not like your name is so great.  Also, it rhymes with fake.  Coincidence?  I think not.)  And yes, Natalie and Josh do get together.  And all of these things are a cliche, but that's okay.  Because cliches are cliches for a reason.   

It's like they say -- the road to true love never runs smooth.  Or gets past the first mile marker without breaking out into a flash mob.  So, here's cheers to a beautiful story about two people accepting each other.  Moles and all. 

'Cause I got you, Abe.  Georgie, better luck next year.

Restasis Oasis: Arizona Iced Weeee! What a Well Watered Cactus

It's no secret that I love cacti.  So much so that I decorated my office to be a little paradise of these prickly pals.

Now that I've shamelessly showed off one of my sanctuaries, let's get back to our regularly scheduled (and equally shameless) show-and-tell of my crafts and closet!  Still stuck on saguaros, I decided to make more cacti barrettes.  I've always been a fan of that whole iconic cactus against a sunset aesthetic, so I decided to play with that.  To me, the contrast of cool green against the red/pink, orange, and yellow explosion of a dying sun is dazzlingly dramatic.

Tops from top to bottom: Fifth Sun, JCPenney; Derek Heart, JCPenney; Almost Famous, Boscov's

 Fabulous Felt Green Cactus Barrette

Fabulous Felt Mint Cactus Barrette 

Fabulous Felt Green Rainbow Cactus

Fabulous Felt Mint Rainbow Cactus

Anyway, cacti come from Arizona, and so does Busy Phillips.  I just finished reading her autobiography, This Will Only Hurt a Little, and binged her new E! talk show Busy Tonight, and I can say that she's as sharp and tough as the Southwest's spikiest succulent.

I was expecting This Will Only Hurt a Little to be a laugh-out-loud lark.  But it isn't.  Busy's breezy, conversational writing only ups the intensity of her memoir, which is emotional, raw, and sometimes hard to read.  (You know, hard to read as in contains heavy stuff.  Like all those Oscar-nominated movies that are hard to watch.  Which is also, incidentally, the title of Tracy Jordan's [Tracy Morgan's] EGOT-bait feature film on 30 Rock.  Fun fact: Tina Fey produces Busy Tonight.  Coincidence?  I think not.)  I should've realized that This Will Only Hurt a Little wouldn't be a sitcom anecdote-studded giggle fest made R rated by a few f-bombs.  First of all, there's the title.  Sure, it'll only hurt a little -- but that means it will still hurt some.  And then there's the front and back covers, which feature a pink suit-clad Busy perched hopefully yet apprehensively on what can be only a waiting room chair on account of its uncomfortable-looking 1970s-era harvest gold pleather.  It might be the waiting room of a doctor's office or for an audition, but the message is clear: whatever's on the other side of that door has the power to make or break you (and Busy.  Because this is her book.).

So, what makes This Will Only Hurt a Little an uneasy read?  It isn't just the Time's Up/Me Too-tinged accounts of chauvinism in Hollywood -- although those certainly make an impact.  It's Busy's teenage years.  Some seriously scary things happened to her, the kinds of things that could destroy a girl's faith in herself and in men for the rest of her life.  We all know that high school can be awful and about as far from a sock hop as a corn dog from a vegan buffet.  So, it's all the more meaningful when Busy describes rising above her own chilling chapter to follow -- and achieve -- her dream of becoming an actress.  Even when one of her high school boyfriends steals the credit for writing Blades of Glory.  That's right; Ms. Phillips is responsible for that hilarious Will Ferrell (and okay, John Heder) movie about competitive male figure skating.  Which, now that I think about it, makes perfect sense, as it's funny and glitzy and raunchy and has lots of heart, just like Busy.  As for that old plagiarizing ex, no one even knows his name.  He's probably selling corn dogs somewhere.

Now, there is a part in the book where Busy says that fellow Dawson's Creek star Katie Holmes was "very sweet," but "wasn't really like a hang-out-and-smoke kind of girl," (171) which gave me pause, as I'm no hang-out-and-smoke kind of girl either.  But then I reminded myself that for better or worse, this book is Busy's truth (she says so on page 8), and if she and Katie didn't click, then so be it.  Also, Katie doesn't have a book or talk show.

That said, here's a part of the book that I love:

"Have I talked about being a sparkly human yet?  Well, I have a theory.  There are certain people who are what I call sparkly humans.  These are people who have things just happen for them or to them because other people see them and seemingly inexplicably want to help them.  Because they sparkle.  From the inside out.  I was always a sparkly human (still am, for the most part, on most days).  Adults just liked me and wanted to help me.  Not kids at my school.  Sometimes sparkliness isn't recognized by peers until much later.  Sometimes sparkly people are even bullied as kids.  Because other kids want to put that light out.  They don't understand it and they want to kill it.  The secret is, if you're truly sparkly, you survive all that bullshit and you don't let them put it out.  And at some point, you started to get rewarded for it.  Sparkly humans aren't always entertainers, and they don't always become famous.  There are sparkly humans everywhere.  And there are also plenty of people who are wonderful and amazing, but aren't sparkly.  It's a very specific thing." (126-127)

I think this is cool and interesting, this idea that some people are marked for greatness like characters in a fairy tale.  And also, that this greatness can take many forms.  But that all of the forms are united by this one intangible but unmistakable thing.

Busy brings her sparkle and pioneering, take-no-prisoners attitude to Busy Tonight.  In her book, she talks about being tired of waiting around for casting directors to decide her fate about this or that project, or to tell her that she doesn't have the right look or that she has to lose weight.  Why not do something where she calls the shots?  Why not create a safe space for topical issues and girl talk and silliness?  Why not host her own talk show?  I'm glad she did because Busy Tonight is so fun!  The set is bright and eclectic, like, as Busy herself says, a sitcom living room.  Busy wears great outfits, and her enthusiasm is infectious from the time she runs out onstage to the time she puts on Mr. Nightgown.  So far, some of her guests include Mindy Kaling, Kristen Bell, John Stamos (the first dude, and a gracious one at that), and even Julia Roberts, all of whom Busy ushers into her photo booth before commercial breaks.  And then, at the very end, she comes out in a long, floral, Bohemian-style muumuu (the aforementioned Mr. Nightgown) and sings a goodnight song so endearing and clever that you can't help but hear it in your head all day.  Listening to it, I always think, I really hope this works out for you, Busy, because you seem to really want -- and deserve -- it.

As they (don't) say, cactus makes for imperfect.  Bring on the smudged glitter.

Movie Moment: Mirror Mirror

With the emergence of ABC's "Once Upon a Time" and movies like Mirror Mirror and this summer's Snow White and the Huntsman, the popularity of Snow White is at an all-time high.  I had the good fortune to see Mirror Mirror this past Sunday, marking my first trip to the movies in more than a month.  Star-starved as I was, I enjoyed watching Julia Roberts's evil queen, Lily Collins's (yes, she of Phil Collins lineage) Snow White, and Armie Hammer's prince charming.  In this rendition we get a modernized glimpse into the queen's motivations as well as a PC spin on the damsel in distress song and dance.  This time it's Snow White who rescues the prince, proving that a girl can have her crown and wear it, too.  The dwarfs are amusing as comic outcasts, as is Nathan Lane as the queen's fumbling and put-upon valet.  Still, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.  The tale ultimately follows the plotlines of the original, with winter blossoming into the spring of a royal wedding.

Later that day I delved into "Once Upon a Time's" much darker backstory of how the queen got to be so wicked.  It made for an interesting contrast to the frothier Mirror Mirror, underscoring that there are many sides to a single story.  Apparently, the queen began life as a nice, normal lovestruck girl.  But then her mother murdered her fiance (as so often happens in these sorts of setups), a turn of events unwittingly precipitated by a child-aged Snow White.  As they say, all heck broke loose, and the wicked stepmother persona was born.  I hear that Snow White and the Huntsman promises to be even more disturbing.  Which means that I'll have to skip it.  Psychological thrills can be intriguing, but I can't abide the kind of gore conjured by the word "hunstman."  

Something New and Sparkly: The Good Kind of Mold

 Fabulous Felt Cherry Gelatin Mold Barrette

Top: Kohl's
Skirt: Boscov's
Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's
Bag: Nahui Ollin

I like to think of JELL-O as the jester of the dessert kingdom.  It's fun, light, and always there when cakes, pies, and and custards weigh too heavily.  Of course, there are those who regard the wiggly wonder as subpar compared to more elegant eats.  But I've always thought that there's something to be said for its unpretentious and down-home quality.  Evidently, so does cinema.  Consider this classic exchange between Julia Roberts's Julianne and Cameron Diaz's Kimmy in My Best Friend's Wedding:

Julianne: Okay, you're Michael, you're in a fancy French restaurant, you order . . . creme brulee for dessert, it's beautiful, it's sweet, it's irritatingly perfect.  Suddenly, Michael realizes he doesn't want creme brulee, he wants something else.

Kimmy: What does he want?

Julianne: JELL-O.

Kimmy: JELL-O?! Why does he want JELL-O?

Julianne: Because he's comfortable with JELL-O, JELL-O makes him . . . comfortable.  I realize, compared to creme brulee it's . . . JELL-O, but maybe that's what he needs.

Kimmy: I could be JELL-O.

Julianne: No! Creme brulee can never be JELL-O, you could never be JELL-O.

Kimmy: I have to be JELL-O.

Julianne: You're never gonna be JELL-O.

Now, that's a JELL-O triumph if ever I heard one.  (Never mind that Julia doesn't get the guy.  JELL-O packs more bite than brulee any day, and when all's said and done, isn't that what really matters?)  It was in this spirit that I whipped up the eight varieties of gelled dessert barrettes pictured above.  Getting the party started is the Fabulous Felt Cherry Gelatin Mold Barrette.  The piece de resistance in an outfit popping with primary colors, it's a treat that lasts long after the whipped cream has melted.

With seven more flavors to feature, the buffet is merely beginning.  So stay hungry :)  

Movie Moment: Larry Crowne

I always wondered why Larry Crowne was considered such a flop.  It had Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts, and a classic underdog-makes-good story.  But when I rented it recently I couldn't help but admit that it was missing that certain something.

That's not to say that it wasn't good.  If you've seen the trailers (or heck, by now, the movie), then you know that the title character (Tom Hanks) loses his upper management job at a Target-esque superstore because he lacks a college degree.  So he enrolls in (what I imagine to be) community college and takes a public speaking class taught by hardass Mercedes Tainot (Julia Roberts).  Ever the optimist, Larry tackles his new life cheerfully, trading in his gas-guzzling SUV for a more economical scooter and, coincidentally, membership into a scooter gang led by pretty young thing Talia (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) and her jealous boyfriend (Wilmer Valderrama).  But Larry has eyes only for teacher, who is conveniently married to a freeloading, porn-obsessed loser (Bryan Cranston).

Larry and Mercedes's courtship is far from orthodox, and certainly not as magical and carefree as this movie poster would lead you to believe.  To be honest, there were plenty of scenes that made me just plain hate Roberts's sour Ms. Tainot.  (At least until I remembered that sour people are sour for a reason and that fictional characters are no different.)  But the frustrated professor has a proverbial gooey center, and Larry is just the charmingly befuddled Little-Engine-that-could kind of guy to unveil it.

Overall, there isn't much of a storyline, and what story there is could have easily been depressing.  There are faint shades of Everything Must Go at play, particularly when Larry attempts to have a yard sale only to be challenged by his large-and-in-charge yard sale king neighbor (played by none other than Cedric the Entertainer).  Similarly, some of the classroom scenes mildly echo those from NBC's darkly comic "Community."  Yet despite these shadows, Larry Crowne remains on a trajectory as confidently upbeat as that of its hero.  Maybe that makes it less complicated, but that's also what makes it a good choice for easy weekend viewing.

Movie Moment: Some Thoughts on Eat Pray Love

I kept the movie momentum going this weekend by seeing Eat Pray Love with my mom on Sunday. Now, I hadn't read the book. (Usually, I like to read the book before seeing the movie, but I'd heard bad things about this one and decided to pass.) Yet despite the hype, I wasn't expecting much. And I turned out to be right; the movie was about a whole lot of nothing trying very hard to be something.

Basically, it's the story of Liz Gilbert (Julia Roberts), a writer who decides she's no longer in love with her husband (Billy Crudup), a guy who's only crime is that he's a dreamer who changes careers a lot. So she gets divorced, has an affair with a much-younger actor (James Franco), and travels to Italy, India, and Bali (insert cliché here) to find herself.

The premise seems promising. I mean, what woman doesn't want to run away from her life every now and then? But Liz's journey fails to live up to its potential because it lacks depth and direction. Once an inveterate eater of salads, she embarks upon a "no carb left behind experiment" that results in weight gain and the need for "big girl jeans." Once afraid to talk to God, she seeks out gurus and meditation experts and swallows their beliefs without examining them. And of course, once relationship-challenged, she finally falls in love, sailing off with a guy she's known for only a couple of weeks. To be honest, I found all of this to be pointless and boring. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why a woman would need to travel the world to "have a relationship with her pizza" and meet a decent guy. But maybe that's because I'm a homebody in a smug relationship with no compunctions about stuffing my face full of carbs.

I also couldn't understand why Liz would want to stay in some broken-down apartment in Italy with no running bath water or an ashram in India where she was required to scrub floors. Equally baffling and unrealistic were the quick, close-knit friendships she seemed to forge with just about everyone she met.

I can't help but think that this movie wanted women to accept Liz as this enlightened feminist role model when she was really just an emotionally unavailable victim of her own made-up problems.

But enough with the snarkiness. Surely I can come up with something good to say about this movie. Julia Roberts did a fine job playing Liz and probably infused the character with more likability than she deserved. The scenery in Bali was lushly breathtaking. And one of Liz's Italian friends says that Americans work too hard and enjoy too little, slaving away at 9-to-5 jobs all week only to collapse on the weekends, spending the entire time in their pajamas in front of the TV. I couldn't argue with that one.

To be honest, I enjoyed Dinner for Schmucks more.