Chex Mix Fix

Top: So, Kohl's; Belt: Wet Seal

Boots: Betsey Johnson, Zulily

Black Cutie Necklace

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's; Bracelet: Mixit, JCPenney; Ring: Old Navy; Skirt: Tinseltown, Macy's

Dress: Speechless, Kohl's; Blouse: SHEIN; Bag: Sleepyville Critters, Zulily; Shoes: Christian Siriano for Payless

Big Red Heart Necklace

Dress: BeBop, Macy's; Boots: Apt. 9, Kohl's; Bag: Marshalls; Headband: Lady Arya, Zulily

Fabulous Felt Rainbow Rings Necklace

Checkerboard and polka dots and stripes, oh my -- I'm beginning to see a pattern!  The husband took these pics before Christmas, and I must admit that it's nice to post regular outfits again.  Even the ones where I look less than thrilled (I'm talking to you, polka dots).  

As for the necklaces, they're kind of ancient.  But I've been busy in my craft room working on new stuff, which I'm excited to show you soon.

Until then, wear your fashion flair in the great out there to ward off the lions and tigers and bears.  By which I mean unwanted weirdos.       

Wanted weirdos are always welcome.

Ghosts and Rings and Halloween Things: Haunted Spouses With Axes to Mind

This Halloween post is teeming with treats, the first of which is a ghost story.  It all started when I unpacked this Dale Tiffany Antiques Roadshow Collection mirror from Zulily featuring a fancy lady in a pensive yet defiant pose.  When the husband (who is a huge "Antiques Roadshow" fan) first saw it, he said, "It's cool.  But also kind of creepy."  I agreed, adding, "It's the eyes."  (You can't see them well here, but they're weird and white and seem to peer out of her faux ivory face knowingly.)  "Don't worry," I said.  "You won't have to look at her; she's going to live in my closet."  That's when I got the idea to write a slightly scary but mostly silly story.  What's more, our house, a white Dutch colonial straight out of The Amityville Horror, is the ideal setting.  

So without further ado, let's enter the troubled mind of Lousia Leigh Perkins (which is not, by the way, her real name.  I don't say this for her protection or mine, but because I don't want those Antiques Roadshow hotshots stealing credit.)

It felt strange being back in the house.  The last time I'd been there was 1927 when it had just been built and rose from the street like a tall, frosted pastry.  "Oh Louisa, I'm so glad you could come," Diana had said, her long, knotted pearls and bobbed hair like a gash against the prissy wallpaper.  "You're always so . . . theatrical in your hats and big dresses."  I bristled.  Although we'd been friends since we'd met at Miss Abby's Charm School when we were seven, Diana's comments about my old-fashioned style never failed to cut me.  "Poor Louisa," I'd overheard her say to her flapper friends.  "Stuck in the turn of the century in those frumpy getups.  It's no wonder Winthrop jilted her."  Although it was true that Winthrop had left me, my clothes had had nothing to do with it.  The culprit had been Diana.  He'd been bewitched by her cat's eyes and flirtatiousness, by the subtle yet bold way she slid her fingers across his arm.  I had been devastated when I found out, destroying Winthrop's entire collection of ships in a bottle with a single swipe of my parasol.  But what Diana didn't know was that things had changed.  Winthrop had come back to me.  Last night we met at our spot -- the gazebo -- and he said that he missed our evening strolls and how I always knew the names of the flowers.  Also, that he thought he was allergic to Diana's huge tailless cat, Bertha.  I even thought I saw him tear up a little, although I suppose that could have been the remnants of Bertha' s dander.  He said he planned to break the news to Diana at the end of the week before they had lunch with her mother.  That's when he would be mine again -- him and this glorious house.  So, when Diana asked me if I wanted to go upstairs to see her closet, I could afford to be gracious.  The stairs creaked as we climbed, and at the landing the cream and pink dressing room opened like a clam shell exploding with treasure.  Even the sight of all those short skirts and fringed dresses hanging in what should have been the guest bedroom couldn't dull my spirits.  And so I nodded as Diana droned on and pointed out her prized possessions.  "Father is sending my shoes up on Friday, and I'm going to display them here, first by height, then by color."  She indicated an alcove of shelves adjacent to the door to the terrace.  The terrace was above the sunroom, and it was my favorite part of the house.  I imagined sitting up there with Winthrop, discussing the gardens over tea and croissants at a wrought iron table as we watched the world parade by.  Diana saw me eyeing the door and smiled.  "Why don't we go out there?" she said.  Her smile turned smug, but just for a second.  Then she opened the door.  It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, crisp but sunny, the leaves gleaming bright gold and crimson.  I was lost in daydreams of what it would be like to be the mistress here, what it would be like to be Winthrop's wife.  I was picturing myself in a lace ivory gown with a full train when I felt someone push me.  "You'll never have him now," hissed Diana, "and you'll never live in this house."  After a brief struggle, I tumbled over the railing, my hat falling to the ground where my head would soon follow.  I tried to scream, but no sound came out, and within seconds I was plunged into darkness.  

That was ninety-one years ago.  From that moment on, I vowed that I would make it back here someday.  Oh, I couldn't return to haunt Diana and Winthrop once they got married, which they did a scarcely respectable month after my funeral.  I had to wait on account of some bureaucratic nonsense about re-entering the human world only after the elapse of ninety-plus years.  But although I couldn't terrorize my former best friend and fiance, I could watch their lives unfold, and it gave me no small amount of pleasure to watch Winthrop step out on Diana with the cook and laundress.  Now I'm back where I belong, even if I had to become part of this tacky mirror to get here.  As I said, it's strange -- but also exciting.  The new lady of the house says she's going to hang me in her closet -- no doubt the same spacious room where Diana used to showcase her ridiculous wardrobe.  This new woman -- Theresa, or maybe Tracy, her name is -- reminds me a little of her, what with her shopping mania and flashy taste.  It might be fun to mess with her, and throw her off her dress-up game.

And . . . we're back.  Thanks so much, Louisa.

 Fabulous Felt Candy Corn Barrette

 Fabulous Felt Ghost Barrette

 Fabulous Felt Jack-o-Lantern Barrette

Top: Bongo, Sears

Skirt: Merona, Target

Shoes: Delicious, Zulily

Bag: Nordstrom

Belt: Marshalls

Fabulous Felt Gray Bat Barrette

Top: Bongo, Sears
Dress: Zulily
Shoes: Payless
Bag: Cat & Jack, Target
Belt: B Fabulous
Green bangle: B Fabulous
Yellow bangle: B Fabulous
Black and white bracelet: Mixit, JCPenney
Purple heart bracelet: Cloud Nine, Ocean City
Purple bracelet: Wet Seal

 Bright Black Necklace

Top: Material Girl, Macy's

Jeans: Vintage Threads, Target

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Worthington, JCPenney

Bracelets: So, Kohl's

In happier hauntings, I've been wearing variations of these Halloween outfits this week.  Today it's the orange dress and black blouse combo, only I've added my Beetlejuice black and white striped blouse underneath to keep warm.  Yet the one piece that I've worn with everything is this ring:

You may recognize it as one of Samantha's PinkBopp originals, as I've been collecting them.  As always, it's a dollop of decoden deliciousness served up on a filigreed plate.  I love looking down throughout the day and seeing the whimsical witch, trick-or-treat bag, and hot heart pink heart perched prettily on my knuckle.

Also in keeping with the Halloween theme, I replaced Kermit's summer straw hat with a witchy version.

I was going to buy one, but the husband said that he'd rather make one from my stash of black felt.  (He was also the one who plunked Kermie down in this wine glass, which was hand painted by our realtor.)  I was impressed by the result, especially because structural design isn't my strong suit.  But the husband's handy like that.  And not just with mantel decor.  Check out his haunted graham cracker house.  The best part is the menacing tree.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I hear a thumping upstairs.  Louisa must be playing demolition derby with my coat racks again.

Ariel and Rapunzel and Cinderella and Belle

Top: Macy's
Skirt: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney
Shoes: Payless
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Boscov's

 Magical Mermaid Necklace, Royal Razzle Dazzle Necklace

Top: Rebellious One, Macy's
Shorts: Merona, Target
Flip flops: Marshalls
Bag: Xhilaration, Target

We've all seen the tee shirts.  Some name and some name and some name and some name from pop culture that all go together.  I used to have one with the names of the characters from "Sex and the City."  I wore it gamely until some dude at the bank stared at it a little too pointedly and asked, "How's Samantha?"  That tee shirt may be long gone, but my fascination with and respect for iconic quartets remains.

And there are few things more iconic than a Disney princess.

I'd been eyeing up Disney princess buttons in various craft stores for years.  Which, now that I'm typing this, sounds like a really long time to contemplate so small a purchase.  But last week I finally bought them and set to work making them into charms.  Which turned out to be more involved than I thought.  (Perhaps my subconscious was hip to this, accounting for that procrastination.)  Once I snapped off the loops at the backs to make them flat, they fell apart like puzzle pieces.  But I fixed that with a little Gem-Tac.  Next, I attached each princess to a disc charm.  Then it was finally time for the fun part: rhinestones and pink chain and Swarovski crystals, oh my!  Also, a spectacularly sparkly unicorn head.

I'd also picked up some Little Mermaid buttons, so I rinsed and repeated to make an Ariel necklace.  (Get it?  Rinse and repeat, like shampoo?  Because of the water in the shower and ocean and also the long, mermaid hair?  No?  Okay.  Never mind.)  Ariel gets to be in both necklaces because she's my favorite princess.  The scorpion centerpiece is a little weird, I'll admit, but I already had it from an old necklace that just wasn't working.  (Before that it was a brooch that I wore, in another lifetime, on the lapel of a suit.)  That said, I think it adds a little unexpected edge, a little, ahem, salt, if you will, to the sweet. 

I've decided not to list these lovelies.  For one thing, there's the age-old ethical question of character licensing.  Far be it from me to filch profits from the multi-million dollar machine that is the Disney empire.  For another, they were relatively expensive to make, and I feel weird about charging what might seem like too much for such delicate pieces.  But if I'm being honest (as I try, always, to be), then the real reason I'm not putting them on Etsy is because I want to keep them.  Like many a kawaii-Lolita enthusiast, I can't resist an accessory that blends the gossamer daydreams of childhood with the somewhat more gritty glamour of being grown up.

The Swarovski, in case you were wondering, is the grown up part.  Which is a lot more palatable than saying that being grown up means having to clean the bathroom.

Boys Don't Make Passes at Girls Who Wear Glasses . . .

 Fabulous Felt Shannon Brooch

 Fabulous Felt Erin Brooch

Fabulous Felt Patty Brooch

Top (a dress!): Modcloth
Skirt (also a dress!): Modcloth
Shoes: Payless
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Boscov's
Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

. . . unless those glasses are filled with Guinness.  Which I realize sounds, ahem, shady because eyewear can't hold liquid let alone the Emerald Isle's signature stout.  But then again, all manner of magical madness is on tap on St. Patrick's Day.

At least that's what these leprechaun-loving ladies are thinking.  (And no, when I say leprechaun, I don't mean the horror movie starring a young Jennifer Aniston.)  Meet Shannon, Erin, and Patty, the newest members of the Tote Trove hat ladies guild.  Which, believe you me, ain't no book club.  They're off to paint the town green, starting at the local pub for a rousing round of Irish-themed trivia and pin-the-tail-on-the-Mother-Superior before indulging in a pint or two -- and then, just maybe, some pint-sized men.  Festive to a fault, they're decked out in holiday hats and sunglasses, reading glasses' less-than-well-behaved second cousin.  Because nothing says single and ready to mingle like a pair of I-can-see-you-but-you-can't-see-me cat's eye lenses.

Let's face it, St. Pat's isn't the most sentimental of holidays (unless you count caterwauling "Danny Boy" at last call).  There's no animated Peanuts special, no heart-warming kids' book called Seamus Shares a Shamrock or something.  It's all about shillelaghs and shenanigans, green beer and lime JELL-O shots, and trying to outrun the cops.

Or so I hear.  I'm usually curled up with a Shamrock Shake and a dog-eared Maeve Binchy by midnight.  

So much for mocking book clubs.

Sun Rise/Sun Set, Simmer in Silence My Tangerine Pet

Quirky Cleo Necklace

Top: JCPenney

Skirt: XOXO, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Lily Bloom, JCPenney

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Arts and Crafts Corner Charm Necklace 

Top: Marshalls

Shorts: Merona, Target

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Scarf: Express

Barrette: The Tote Trove

Orange bangle: Target

Blue bangle: Mixit, JCPenney

Yellow bangles: B Fabulous

Ring: Making Waves, Ocean City

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Blueberry Creamsicle Necklace

Dress: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Shoes: First Love by Penny Loves Kenny, JCPenney

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Jacket: Mossimo, Target
Skirt: H&M

Who needs an orange tabby when you've got plush produce that never says peep?  Not this hairball-hating craftista!  So say hello to my furry friend, Etsy-spawned pillow Julius:

Happy Orange Pillow, Bubbledog

I realize that the word "simmer" in the title of this post makes it sound as though I'm cooking a cat a la ALF, but I assure you that no animals were harmed in the making of this post.  Unless you count the spider that skittered out from under my bed when I fished out my shoes.  (I do not.)    

Anyhoo, this week's outfits give a shout-out to Florida's finest in tangy shades of orange and yellow.  One of the purses is even in the likeness of Mr. Ray himself, complete with sunglasses, and another boasts a tropical sunset.  Also, there's a bomber jacket embroidered with palm trees, which, although not technically part of these outfits, is, in addition to having been half off, pretty darn sizzling.  Yep, some like it hot.  But not too hot.  Anyone who's ever had a wicked sunburn knows this first hand (or foot, piggies often being the first appendage to cook).  Which is why I made turquoise-accented jewelry to provide a cool contrast to these smokin' ensembles.  (Not real turquoise, just stuff that's [faintly] turquoise colored.  Hey, this isn't the Phoenix airport!)  Just think of them as the aloe of costume accouterments.  Soothing, day-glo, and fragrant*, they'll cure all your wardrobe woes and wounds.

*Please note that these necklaces don't smell like anything, except maybe metal and spider guts, er, coconut body spray.  But I needed a third adjective to round out the series, and "fragrant" had a nice ring to it.  Also, it met the criteria for the third of the five senses that apply to lotion (tasting it would send you straight to the ER, and hearing it would send you to, well, a whole other branch of medical professionals).  

So until next time, soak up your vitamin C (and D!) and stay on the sunny side of the sweet.

Also, don't drink the aloe.

Oscar the Pouch: The Envelope, Please

Cross My Heart Necklace 

Festival Flair Envelope Bag

Pink top: Decree, JCPenney

Maroon blouse: Kohl's

Skirt: Bubblegum, Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Belt: Marshalls

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Garden Party Envelope Bag

Top: Marshalls

Dress: Xhilaration, Target

Shoes: Payless

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's 

Fruit Bowl Envelope Bag

Top: Marshalls

Skirt (a dress!): Modcloth

Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW

Belt: Marshalls

Sunglasses: JCPenney

I almost called this post "Oscar the Slouch," but catchy though that was, it didn't make much sense.  Another contender was "Oscar the Couch," as that's where I (and probably you) am glued tonight, watching Kimmel crack jokes as Hollywood's finest compete for little gold men.  (So far, my favorite part is when Kimmel made it rain Red Vines and Junior Mints from the ceiling.)  But it was "Oscar the Pouch" that, ahem, took the title.  Because I'm writing about receptacles, damn it.  And also, I like kangaroos.  

It's not every crafter that would embellish Oscar-themed clutches with pompoms and felt, but then, I'm not every crafter.  Or, for that matter, every Oscars viewer, having seen exactly one of the films nominated (Florence Foster Jenkins), my cinematic speed being more Sesame Street than serious.  Which is just one of the reasons I'm giving a shout-out to everyone's favorite garbage can-dwelling Muppet.    

These shoulder bag-slash-clutches, although not exactly an example of "from trash to treasure" (they're brand spanking new, thank you very much), reflect a kind of artfully messy kitchen sink (that garbage can of the plumbing world) aesthetic.  Taking their cues from festivals to gardens to fruit bowls near you, they let you carry -- and communicate -- a little bit of what's imperfect and exceptional about the everyday (not unlike -- funny connection -- movies).  After all, what better way to send a style message than in a good, old-fashioned envelope?    

I like to think that Oscar would give his stamp of approval.