Pining for Pinterest: Love at First (Web) Site

Fabulous Felt Custard Barrettes

If I Dreamed a Desert Barrette Brooch

I don't know about you, but I'm Pinterest obsessed.  Which you either already know because I've said so before or because you've visited my hoarder's haven of a corner on this popular social media platform.  So why am I so infatuated?  Because Pinterest is like your own personal cyber scavenger hunt, i.e., all the excitement without having to beat out anyone else to find that purple kazoo under the couch.  If squirreling away Pinterest pics is the retail-free answer to our hunter-gatherer instincts, then creating a Pinterest board is like being in a new relationship.  Everything's fun and easy, and you can't get enough.  You save images with all the abandon of a fool in love, on pins and needles for the next fab find to add to your burgeoning collection.  Each acquisition for Beachy Bathing Caps or Dramatic Doors (two totally real boards of mine) gives you the same rush as the ding of a text from your new one-and-only, the addition of every obscure vintage knickknack or garment as intoxicating as the first time your fingers brush his.  

But inevitably, time goes on and your board gets fuller.  Continuing to build it can become more tedious than exhilarating.   Even worse, you notice that some of the pins don't complement each other as well as they used to and that there are even -- gasp -- some duplicates.  So you edit and rearrange to make everything work, deleting the doppelgangers and looking for new stuff that brings you the same joy and satisfaction but in a slightly different way.  You know.  Kind of like when you and your better half bust out of your dinner-and-a-movie-date-night go-to to go bungee jumping.  Or maybe just to an Asian fusion restaurant and an indie film instead of a steakhouse and action flick.  But when you get home, you discover that there was a method to the madness of the repetition, that you kept choosing the same things -- and the same person -- over and over because those are the things that you love.  And sometimes realizing that is when the real commitment -- to a board or to a beau -- begins.  

So in the name of making old favorites feel like new, here are two new old pics to add to my ever-expanding Pinterest arsenal.  The custard cones from a long-ago summer will go on my Extra Accessories board, whereas the oft-posted cacti will find a home on Awesome Arts & Crafts.

If you're wondering just how many Pinterest boards I have, it's a little over two hundred.

What can I say?  I've got a big heart. 

Oodles of Noodles and, Yes, a Caboodle

One of the good things about this quarantine is getting lots of time to read.  And as you know, there are few things I find more comforting than a good old-fashioned murder mystery.  The cozier the better.  And when it comes to gimmicks?  Bring 'em on!  That's why I was so happy to stumble upon Vivien Chien's noodle shop series when browsing books on Target.com.  In them, Cleveland-based heroine Lana Lee is fueled by a main course of managing her family's Chinese restaurant with a tasty side order of sleuthing.  The other characters almost always call her by her full name, which makes her sound like a superhero and/or Dave Kim from The Goldbergs.  Before you ask, yes, she's dating a detective, and, yes, she's smarter than he is.  Oh, and also, her family drives her nuts.  But whether she's dyeing her hair a new crazy color or scarfing down her beloved doughnuts, Lana doesn't let them -- or Detective Trudeau -- get her down.  I don't even like Chinese food, but I've gobbled up three of these books so far, and they've been chockful of chow fun.  Here are some of my favorite parts, most of which don't involve murder:

Death by Dumpling

"Jasmine's great.  She gets me.  And she gets my hair.  Hair's important to me.  It's a statement.  Hair and shoes.  If you have those two things going on, you're pretty much solid." (68)

"As I stepped inside, I stopped and took a deep breath, closing my eyes and taking in the intoxicating smell that is the Modern Scroll.  This was my favorite store of all.  It was a small slice of heaven, and I came in any chance I got just to be around the books.  Books were my solace, my escape." (97)

Egg Drop Dead

"Saturday evening should be spent either doing something incredibly fun, or doing something very relaxing.  It should not be spent talking about murder suspects with your significant other while you binge-eat cheesy popcorn and doughnut holes." (199)

Murder Lo Mein

"The bathroom was immaculate and might have been nicer than my apartment.  At times, I wished there was such a job as restroom connoisseur.  I would have a blast rating all the bathrooms in the city . . . and there were quite a few that would make it on the . . . well, you know what list I'm talking about." (192)

"He was the professional, and I was just a gal with an overactive imagination and a ratty notebook." (238)

Most of these are about the kind of human interest minutiae and humor that I find so delightful.  Except for the last one.  That's about Lana Lee questioning her whodunit prowess thanks to Trudeau, who, under the circumstances, I feel compelled to call a private dick.  Thankfully, Lana rises above this nonsense, proving herself to be more than, as Gwen Stefani put it, "just a girl."

But enough heaviness.  Chien's books, along with Jewel Divas Style and Pinterest, made me want to take this picture of elbow macaroni in a Caboodle:  

Elbows may not be lo mein, but they're what I had on hand (see above about me not eating Chinese food), and I figured that one weirdly staged carb is as amusing as another.  Just think of the pompoms as meatballs.  Also, that's my elbow in the mirror, so happy pic pun accident.  Anyway, Jewel Divas is a blogger who loves -- and writes -- about Caboodles more than anyone ever.  And Pinterest has provided me with many a Caboodle pic to add to my Righteously Retro '80s and '90s Childhood board.  Pinterest is also where I learned about Violet Tinder Studios, which photographs everyday objects in unexpected and glamorous ways.  My pic in no way reflects the sophistication of that outfit's output.  But Violet's spirit still shines through my effort, and so I must give credit where credit is due. 

So, that's lo mein (sort of) and Lana Lee.  She's a Nancy Drew disciple (she said it, not me) who rocks takeout and taking out bad guys. 

And who sure knows how to use her noodle.

Toilet Paper Caper

These days, caper doesn't mean what it used to.  Just as excitement over toilet paper no longer means "decorating" your neighbor's house.  Now it's all about snagging some Charmin before your next bathroom incident.  And everyone's in on the search and the success stories.  On a recent episode of "Jimmy Kimmel Live!," Kimmel's three-year-old son burst through a fortress of heard-won rolls.  On Jim Gaffigan's YouTube channel, Gaffigan's head pops up from a sea of two-ply.  Finally, my Pinterest feed is, ahem, clogged with products boasting "I survived the toilet paper crisis of 2020!".  Well, I'm not Jimmy Kimmel or Jim Gaffigan.  But I am a person.  And I'm thrilled to share my own tp coup (while, for some reason, dressed like backwoods Barbie).  This is how it unraveled. 

I was trolling Walmart.com for essentials (i.e. another half dozen boxes of Nature Valley almond butter bars), when I pessimistically typed "toilet paper" into the search box.  I was expecting to see the usual toilet paper roll stands (such a tease!).  So, when Northern appeared on my screen, I couldn't believe it.  Northern, a brand I never even buy, suddenly seemed like the most beautiful word in the world.  It made me think of idyllic Scandinavian fishing villages, the northern lights, and, of course, not having to delve into my party paper napkin supply for intimate use.  I wasted no time adding two 12-packs to my cart; I'd been foiled before by waiting even a minute too long on the likes of Target.com.  Yet even after I completed the order, I had my doubts.  In this age of mass shortages, it was entirely possible that I'd get one of those sorry-not-sorry emails informing me that my Northern order had, well, gone south.  I'd been there before, you see (I'm talking to you Target), and like a jilted lover, I'd hardened my heart.  But no such email arrived and then, just two days after the estimated delivery date, the Northern landed on my doorstep with all the unlikely magic of a unicorn. 

More than anything, this hysteria over toilet paper shows that the COVID-19 pandemic has been something of an equalizer.  When even celebrities are clamoring to maintain personal hygiene normalcy, it makes you realize that we really are all in this together.  And that we all put our pants on one leg at a time.

And now, thanks to Northern (and Walmart!), my legs can be blessedly clean.

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Nerds (Because the T-Rhyme is Unseemly)

Howlite Delight Necklace

Sweatshirt: One, Marshalls

Jeans: Vanilla Star, Target

Bag: Olivia Miller, J. C. Penney's

Shoes: Charles Albert, A. C. Moore

Sunflower barrette: The Tote Trove

Yellow bracelet: Amrita Singh, Zulily

Flower bracelet: Mixit, J. C. Penney's

Pizza barrette: The Tote Trove

As you know, I'm a big fan of Pinterest.  It's fun to scroll through endless screens of shape and color, the images a kaleidoscopic carnival of creativity.  But sometimes Pinterest is more upsetting than soothing.  Because the pictures are so perfect.  Just the right brightness and placement, every detail razor sharp.  And that can make an amateur photographer such as myself feel a little discouraged.  We've all been there.  You painstakingly prep your pics, whittle them down to a chosen few, then put your best foot forward into cyberspace only to have another, bigger foot (or, big feet being about as popular as Smoky the Bear at a bonfire, a smaller foot) in a Louboutin stomp on you, reminding you that no matter how hard you try, you will always be a bargain basement Steve Madden.  It's like when you get all dressed up for the big dance in your new rainbow rhinestoned black dress and look in the mirror and feel foxy only to arrive at the school gym and see your arch nemesis Brittany McDonald (no relation to Ronald) wearing a black dress that lights up plus a tiara.  (You know, if it were 1985 and you went to a school where such things were cool instead of landing you in a Dumpster.)  Whenever I feel this way, I back away from my computer and try to focus on something real.  Like my latest craft project.  Or reading.  Or planning my outfit for the bloggers' ball.  (What?  The bloggers' ball isn't a thing?  Then BigBlogger666 has some explaining to do and a rainbow rhinestone dress to return.)  I also try to remember that 1) my best isn't the same as someone else's best, especially a someone with Photoshop and a much more sophisticated knowledge of filters, and 2) that I love fashion because, unlike in math and Sudoku, there's room for everything and there are no wrong answers.

Last weekend I was getting dressed to run errands (by which, of course, I mean go shopping), when I thought, I really like this outfit and want to photograph it before putting it on.  Usually, this isn't how I come up with my post outfits.  I put them together to go with the jewelry I've made.  And yeah, I end up wearing lot of them IRL.  But even then it's the jewelry driving the bus.  So, I get a little jolt when it happens spontaneously.  This time was no different.  I set up the shot, got out my camera, and made my edits -- only to have the picture not look nearly as good as the in-the-flesh (in-the-cotton?) version.  I grunted and stewed; I adjusted the flat lay and took some more shots.  But then I decided that it was okay just the way it was.  Because what is this blog if not a chronicle of my efforts, the good, the bad, and the what-was-I-thinking?  The hiccups are what make it interesting -- even if, especially if -- they're hiccups only in my mind. 

Also, bargain basement Steve Madden is nothing to sneeze at.  Unless you really are Steve, in which case the bargain is cutting into your profits.  Or unless it's mold in the basement that's causing you to be tempted to sneeze.

I'm so glad I'm not (really) Steve Madden.       

Linked Pin: The Social Network of Not-So-Solitude

 Ice Cream Dream Charm Necklace

Cute Pursuit Charm Necklace 

 Fruit Frenzy Charm Necklace

Leopard cami: Worthington, JCPenney

Polka dot top: Wet Seal

Rainbow stripe top: Alloy

They say that people get married to have someone witness their lives.  (Also so that they'll have someone to nuke them Cup o' Noodles when they're sick.  Because technology can't do that yet, unless you're geeky and/or rich enough to own a robo-chef.)  But sometimes, I think, that's why people blog, too.  Even married people.  It's like saying, hey, I'm out here, having these thoughts as I make jewelry/bake cupcakes/paint landscapes/write music or whatever else kind of creative thing it is that people do.  Kind of like keeping a somewhat censored and very public diary without the unicorn cover and lock.  

Blogging is a form of storytelling, a kind of letter from and to yourself -- and everyone else -- that reminds us that even when engaged in the seclusion of artistic pursuits, we are intertwined and connected.  And I've always loved storytelling.  Because there's no wrong way to do it.  Sure, you can hone your craft or take a class, but at the end of the day, your story is your account of what happened, and no one can tell it but you.  

That said, this week I made some simple charm necklaces.  I used to think that it wasn't really art unless I'd suffered a little.  You know, spent hours teasing intricate designs from felt, using just enough glue so that everything would stick together, but not so much that it would seep through and make it all (symbolically) fall apart.  But lately I've taken a simpler view.  There's nothing lesser about attaching charms to a chain, not if you think the result is beautiful.  And creating beauty is what art is about.

Just this morning, the husband and I split a kiwi.  He said that kiwis are very seedy and hairy, and I said, yes, like a weird little man.  

And now I'm repeating it here.

If that's not the nexus between inner and outer thoughts and marriage and blogging, then I don't know what is.

P. S. Kevin Kiwi says hi.

Sparkle and Shine: It's Repurpose Time (Again :)

Coral Reef Motif Necklace

Dress: Amazon
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Marshalls
Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Glam Granny Earrings 

Top: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Zulily

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Modcloth

Belt: B Fabulous

 Yolanda Yellow Necklace

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt (a dress!): Amazon

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Marshalls

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Make way for another round of mock rock rehab.  Which kind of sort of sounds like a reality show in the making.  As in, can these washed-up, D-list dazzlers be saved?  Obviously, the answer is yes!  Once again, I've dipped into the Kohl's clearance bin and found some diamonds in the rough to embellish.  Sadly, my subpar photography skills (or maybe it's my subpar camera?  Yes, let's blame the camera.) don't do justice to the grandeur and glory that is the Coral Reef Motif Necklace.  It may look like the indeterminate flesh-colored smudge found on many a beach hotel painting, but in person its bling-factor is blinding thanks to the addition of faceted heart charms and teal and yellow Swarovski crystals.       

The Glam Granny Earrings are a different story.  Even when captured by my questionable lens, Iris Apfel dangles as strikingly from these fishhooks as she did from the bangles I bought at Macy's.  Yep, these cute little faces started life as INC merchandise tags.  From the moment I saw them I knew that they were destined for more than the trash can.  I was so enamored that I liked them even more than the bangles themselves!  I added some crystals to make them stand out but opted to leave the aesthetic mostly unaltered (why mess with perfection?).  Iris, by the way, is everywhere.  She's burning up Pinterest boards, TV ads (Hunter Douglas blinds never looked so bitchin'), and even text messages -- the last of which in emoji!  May we all be so badass in our nineties.

And that brings us to the Yolanda Yellow Necklace, a ray of sunshine splashed with funky fruit salad brights. Or perhaps I should christen something with this much panache Vida Marina. Which sounds like a telenovela star -- even if it literally means "sea life" in Spanish. Or at least that's what it says on these bathtub decals. Still, I like my more glamorous explanation. I can just see (and hear!) it, can't you?

Vida!  Over here!  [Flashbulb.  Click.  Flashbulb.] Who are you wearing?  Ms. Marina, can I have your autograph?  Is it true that you're going to be a contestant on the next season of Mock Rock Rehab?  And that the engagement ring your estranged husband gave you is a fake?        

Fool jewels (and jewel fools), it seems, come in many disguises.

Mermaid in the Shade: Look at this Stuff, isn't it Sweet?

Heartland and Sand Charm Necklace

Top: Wet Seal
Skirt: Amazon

Shoes: B.A.I.T., Zulily

Bag: Sugar Thrillz, Dolls Kill

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

 Nautical Nonsense Necklace 

Colorful Carnival Cuff  

Nautical Nonsense Bracelet

Yellow top: Marshalls

Striped top: Aeropostale 

Skirt: So, Kohl's

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Apt. 9., Kohl's

Ocean Love Potion Necklace 

Magical Mermaid Hairpins 

Top: JCPenney

Skirt: Amazon

Shoes: B.A.I.T., Zulily

Bag: Sugar Thrillz, Dolls Kill

Belt: Candie's, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

First, a note about the "stuff."  The store-bought as opposed to handmade stuff, that is.  A chunk of it comes from the Internet, most notably my good pal Pinterest.  This Dolls Kill seashell bag and these Zulily BAIT wedges started life on my Bright Bags and Show-Stopping Shoes boards but ended up in my closet.  And I first spied these Amazon skater skirts on The Big Hair Diaries blog, where big hair aficionado Samantha regularly rocks them in a rainbow of colors.  That's what I love about the web: shopaholics helping shopaholics, one purchase at a time. :)   

Now that that's out of the way, on to the mermaids.  Because they're having a moment.  Pinterest (I told you she was a pal) is swimming with bags, tees, mugs, jewelry, you name it, splashed with images of these salty sirens.  Even the beach shop down the street from me boasts a "mermaid room" where you can have your picture taken as one such maritime maven.  I think it's for kids, but then those tails looked mighty long.  

Of course, I've always been hip to mermaids' magic.  Even as a second grader I wanted to be one in our class anti-pollution movie (yes, you read that right; no plays for us in high tech, 1980s South Jersey) even though my teacher had me slated to portray the "philosophical fish," a peacock feather-wielding do-gooder who warned humans of the dangers of discarding uncut plastic soda can rings.  This was right around the time The Little Mermaid came out, and as such, the height of my Ariel obsession.  Needless to say, it was farewell feather, hello fins!  Wearing that orange sequinned, slightly smelly rented mermaid costume made me feel far more glamorous than the humdrum hat and cape of that know-it-all fish ever could.

One of the things mermaids are known for (besides promoting recycling) is their enchanted tresses.  Ariel famously ran a fork (er, dinglehopper) through her fiery, animated locks, and any woman with a long, flowing mane is said to have mermaid hair.  So, when I set out to embellish my very first set of hairpins, I thought, why not go with seashells?  Pastel and pearlized, they make just the right contrast to the dramatic black pins.  Although I love the way they turned out, I still wanted to make something brighter, bolder, and, yes, bubbling over with big, bad beachiness.  And so I spawned this matching Ocean Love Potion Necklace.  Because if there's something else that mermaids are known for (besides luring sailors to their death), then it's sporting seashells on their chests.  

Or, at least sometimes.  For this wasn't always the case for the Stowaway With Me mermaid mascot:

This sign, oddly, is not in Brigantine, or anywhere else at the Jersey shore, but on a not-quite stretch of highway enroute to Philadelphia.  It's been there as long as I can remember, but it wasn't until ten or so years ago that the management of Stowaway Storage saw fit to cover mistress mermaid with a pink seashell bra.  (To be fair, pre-bra, her hair strategically covered her most scandalous bits.)  The why remains a mystery.  Who knows; maybe Stowaway was getting too many late night phone calls from sailors looking for a good time.  Elaine (because let's call her that, for reasons that may or may not be clear at the end of this paragraph) does have a big ass phone number plastered right next to her head. Also, if these Nautical Nonsense Necklace and Bracelet photographs are any indicator, then she has a shore thing for sponges, cartoon and otherwise.  

Sounds kind of fishy to me.

Pinning Plays: Shoe Montage Collage Flashback

Clockwise from top: Ami Clubwear; Charles Albert, Alloy; Ami Clubwear; Worthington, JCPenney; (center) Not Rated, Journeys

Left to right: ELLE, Kohl's; Bucco, Kohl's; Madden Girl, Macy's

Left to right: Guess, DSW; Ami Clubwear; Guess, DSW

Big news, I'm being pinned!  No, I haven't become a gorgeous lady of wrestling or joined a sorority.  The Tote Trove is finally on Pinterest!  I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I'm finally pinning as opposed to being pinned, which could also be a pun for winning, but the sorority-wrestler thing was so much more fun, don't you think?  Anyway, I got "pinning" in in the post title.  So, I guess that's two wins. Er, pins.

For years, people have been telling me to get on Pinterest.  "You'd love it!"  they'd say.  "You can find anything!"  For those not in the know, Pinterest, "the world's catalog of ideas," is kind of like Facebook, only with just pictures.  All kinds of pictures of everything, uploaded by users and copied from all over the web.  So, instead of reading an update on Aunt Enid's bunion surgery (no disrespect to Aunt Enid, as I'm sure my wild shoe-wearing ways will land me in the podiatrist's office sooner than later), you get new pics of wedges.  And booties.  And stilettos.  All sailing past in dizzying Technicolor.  (See what I did there?)  Anyway, at first I resisted.  Not because I didn't think I would like it.  Oh, no.  Because I knew just how much I would like it, that once I started, my collector's nature would take over, and I'd be pinning anything and everything with abandon.  There's no doubt about it; Pinterest is the Pringles of the social media world.  Part of its lure, I think, is the whole FOMO (i.e. fear of missing out) thing.  Because if you find one fantastic hat/skirt/bag/necklace, then there's no telling just how many more are a mere scroll away, waiting to light up one of your already bursting boards.  (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that that's where you put your pins -- on boards.  I have about twenty, with have names like Nifty Necklaces, Bright Bags, Awesome Outfits . . . you get the idea.)  It's inspiring and exhilarating, a fabulous fantasy land of fashion at my fingertips -- if only I never leave my computer!  Indeed, more than once the husband has resorted to wheeling me away from the screen, usually at dinnertime.  I can't say I blame him.  It's a sad day when mac n' cheese can't compete with (for all intents and purposes) imaginary stilettos.  I've been at it for a month, and so far I've amassed more than five thousand pins.  Which, now that I say it, sounds like too many.  Still, although this technological trend has fueled one obsession, it's curbed another, perhaps more deleterious one, namely shopping.  Instead of going out and buying two new shirts, I can pin dozens of them from the comfort of my own home without spending a dime.  What's more, when I do venture out to the stores (or, as they so quaintly say in Britain, "the shops"), most of what I find looks oh so tragically basic.  Just one more example of how the internet skews our expectations.

Anyhoo, yesterday I decided to take some of my own shoe pics to add to the photo fracas.  One wouldn't upload to my Show-stopping Shoes board because Pinterest can sometimes be a finicky priss.  But no worries, because they're all here!  That's right, I'm embracing my shoe montage roots for a cute reboot (there's a line I'm sure I've used before).  If these punchy pumps and wacky wedges look familiar, then it's because . . . you've seen them before.  But never in such colorful configurations, or against such brilliant backdrops!  Here at the Trove, I've learned some things over the years.  Like, there's no such thing as too much color.  Really, sometimes I marvel at the way posterboard has changed my life. 

Speaking of which, gotta jet.  A fresh pair of Ferragamos is waiting.