Fins vs. Skins: Hipsters Don't Lie

 Fantastic Flipper Necklace

Fairy Fish Tale Necklace

Top: Decree, JCPenney

Skirt: Marilyn Monroe, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Nordstrom

Scarf: A.C. Moore

Some years ago, I was at the Brigantine farmer's market with the husband, standing in line for mini doughnuts (just out of the fryer, they slid down this little metal chute that was the last word in cuteness), when I overheard a group of twentysomethings behind us talking.  They were extolling the virtues of salt water -- well, as much as anyone in a pork pie hat can extol anything -- saying how swimming in the ocean could clear up your skin.  As a lifelong acne sufferer, they had me at "clear."  So I was already listening when their conversation moved on to the market's offerings, one kid exclaiming, "Dude, they've got stuff here you never knew you wanted!"  I wanted to laugh -- or pull him aside and say, "Hey, I know where you can get some grade A JELL-O mold jewelry . . . "  But I did neither.  Instead, I enjoyed the silent, wise crack-rich commentary that only comes from eavesdropping.  And, of course, the not-so-silent part that came when the husband and I talked about it on the walk home.  

Still, it wasn't all fun and fried pastry.  Young Pork Pie was onto something when he alluded to the sea's peerless power.  Mysterious and bottomless, these waters wield a profound magic, the kind that has captivated sailors and storytellers for centuries.  Which is why I'm drawn to them and lived by them and made these here mermaidy necklaces.  (If Fantastic Flipper looks familiar, then that's because it's the fraternal twin of Whimsical Waters.)  Sparkly and blue, they're also ever-so-slightly old looking, which is just the right amount for wearable seaside souvenirs for people who've never left their couches.  

Finally, I can promise you that, unlike other stuff that comes from the ocean, no one has ever peed on these.

Not bad, huh?  Now if only they could get rid of pimples . . .       

Moving to the Country: Good-bye, Brigantine

Tourist Trap Charm Necklace

Top: Macy's

Shorts: ELLE, Kohl's

Flip flops: So, Kohl's

Bag: Betsy Johnson, Macy's,

Sunglasses: Michaels

Barrettes: The Tote Trove

It's finally happened.  The husband and I bought a house -- and it's on the mainland.  Which means good-bye, Brigantine.  So I thought I'd commemorate the occasion with a little Presidents of the United States-and-Elton John mashup.  And, of course, a new Betsey Johnson handbag.  'Cause there are peaches a-plenty in the country (even if home is now kinda sorta a suburb), and Brigantine is equal parts peaceful and tempestuous.  Or at least its weather is, just like Marilyn/Norma Jean.

I also decided to make myself a souvenir send-off necklace using -- what else? -- key chains from the corner beach shop.  It's funny.  At a time when I was supposed to be getting rid of stuff, I found myself shopping even more, racking up shoes, tees, and cold shoulder dresses as if I were moving to Mars instead of a few towns over.  But the act of acquiring made me feel more armed for the journey ahead.  I guess it's like Cat Stevens sings in "Wild World":

"But if you want to leave, take good care
Hope you have a lot of nice things to wear"

You said (sang) it, Cat.  New clothes have a way of making life's transitions somehow smoother.

At first, I wasn't too sentimental about leaving the island.  Not being able to walk to stores, restaurants, and, of course, the beach would take some getting used to.  But I was too wrapped up in packing and jumping through mortgage hoops to over-think it.  Besides, I was looking ahead, more than eager to vacate a shoe box-sized rental that smelled as mildewy as King Triton's halitosis (maybe that, not Prince Eric, was why Ariel lobbied so hard for legs).  The move had been a long time in coming, and the new casa was roomier, more private, and best of all -- ours.  Also, it was vintage (if you can say that about a building), and I'd always wanted to live in a charming old (albeit restored -- let's not get crazy, now) house.  You know.  Something with more character than cul-de-sac.

So, I was all set to pull up stakes, no looking back.  Then I went to Acme to pick up a few last-minute things and started crying in the cereal aisle.  It suddenly hit me that it'd be the last time I'd ever go there, at least as a resident.  And although I always said it was creepy and overpriced and that the chicken was one step away from salmonella, the realization made me sad.  Partly because it reminded me of when the husband and I were first starting out nine years ago and we'd run to the store for something easy to throw together instead of a week's worth of groceries for grown-up meals.  Partly because there's something bittersweet about something being over, even when you know it's time to move on.  Kind of like the last episode of "Friends" (which also, by the way, made me get weepy).  I could come back to the island any time to walk the beach or eat at The Crab Shack.  But, like watching reruns of the Central Perk gang, which I can do any time, it wouldn't be the same.

Then, this past Friday, on the first day of fall, the husband and I signed on the dotted line(s) and officially became homeowners.  Which was exciting and scary and wonderful and made me realize that we were exactly where we were supposed to be.  And that was before I even started filling my spare room-slash-closet.

So.  If you don't hear from me in a while, then it's because I'm buried in boxes or fighting with Comcast or embellishing an old-timey mirror.  But that only means that bigger, better adventures and all things Tote Trove are just a few weeks away.

Until then, here's the best of Brigantine in pictures.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Dice: An Introduction

 Lovely Librarian Necklace

Top: Kohl's

Skirt: Marilyn Monroe, Macy's

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Belt: Izod, Marshalls

Sunglasses: So, Kohl's

The sugar is Nicholas Sparks's Two by Two, the spice is Amy Schumer's The Girl With the Lower Back Tattoo, and the dice is Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic to the Rescue, a tale that tells us how everything in the fictional -- and, indeed, real world -- is one casino game away from collapsing.

Because books are what make this post, er, cook, this Lovely Librarian Necklace is a willing and apropos mascot.  (And yes, I still think that libraries are gross and smelly and filled with books smeared with mystery stains.  But it's the spirit of the library that I celebrate.  Kind of like when I wax fanciful about flea markets.)   The books in question represent a souffle of stories, a trio of trials, and a network of narratives whose humanity can be conveyed by only good writing and imagination.  That and handicrafts made from stuff that belongs in a dollhouse.

So, stay tuned as I embark upon The Tote Trove's first ever three-part series (four if you count this introductory post, which I do) and indulge my hey,-here's-what-I-think bookworm ways.

But not real bookworms.  They're even more unsettling than real libraries.

Merry Christmas: On Pins and Pine Needles

 Fabulous Felt Christmas Wreath Brooch

Dress: Modcloth

Top: Kohl's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Macy's

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

 Fabulous Felt Christmas Candle Brooch

Top: Liz Claiborne, Marshalls

Skirt: Boscov's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Macy's

Belt: Kohl's

Fabulous Felt Christmas Tree Brooch

Sweater: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Skirt: Marilyn Monroe, Macy's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Macy's 

Such excitement!  Such anticipation!  Such . . . frustration!  You know, if you're dealing with unwanted baked goods and/or relatives . . . bonus points if Aunt Shirley shows up with a fruitcake.  Yes, it's Christmas again, that extravaganza of unfettered festivity and unbridled emotion.  So, what better way to herald its arrival than with holiday pins, or, in fancy, British tearoom speak, brooches?  Their bright, cheery colors will distract you from any unpleasant situations as well as offer a conversational gambit when things get hairy.  If an overly inquisitive relative asks, "When are you going to get married/have a baby/get a job/move out of your parents' basement?", pretend you misheard her and say, "Where did I get this brooch?  Why, a charming little online shop called The Tote Trove . . "  

See what I did there?  

All kidding (and self promotion) aside, felt has never looked so sweetly old-fashioned as it has in this wreath, tree, and candle.  I can't help how I feel, and I feel I love felt.  It's no wonder, then, that of all the ornaments in all the stores, these three felt fruits (and one veggie) from Target were my favorites:
  

This health-conscious quartet blows cookies out of the water (or should I say eggnog?), making for an unexpectedly cruciferous Christmas.  Except for you, Mr. Mushy Banana.  Go hang with the cherry cordials and figgy pudding.

And now, for something a little more traditional and not at all healthy, here's a gingerbread house built by the husband:  

It's a replica of my parents', which is to say, the place I grew up.  The husband took great pains to reproduce every detail, right down to the lamppost, porch, and shrubbery.  A thing of architectural soundness and beauty, it's proof that men are better at construction, even of the graham cracker kind.  Or, at least this man is better at it than this woman, who stood by as he labored, idly munching marshmallows.    

And finally, if you've had your fill of run-of-the-mill Christmas music, then check out YouTube for The Killers' holiday highlights.  Delightfully disturbing and disturbingly delightful, the desert-themed "Don't Shoot Me Santa" and its follow up, "I Feel it in My Bones," will tickle your dark funny, well, bone, whereas "Joel the Lump of Coal" will make you smile -- and perhaps plot for a place on Santa's naughty list.

So, merry Christmas to all and to all a good night (can you tell I just watched Christmas Vacation?). Eat too much sugar, march to the beat of your own little drummer boy, and, above all else, regift any memberships to the jelly of the month club.  Unless, of course, jelly is part of your plan to eat too much sugar.  In that case, down a jar of orange marmalade for me.