Painting the Patriarchy Pink: This Barbie is a Blogger

Tee: Kohl's

I finally saw Barbie yesterday, and it was every bit as fabulous as I expected.  The clothes, the colors, the dance routines.  But also, the message.  Because if there's one thing that director Greta Gerwig makes clear, it's that being a woman is complicated.  To paraphrase America Ferrera's Gloria, all we really want at the end of the day is to "wear a flattering top and feel okay."  Yet sometimes the world -- and more to the point, the patriarchy -- makes that more difficult than it should be.  So it's no wonder that Barbie -- both the "stereotypical" one played to perfection by Margot Robbie and all the others who share the same name -- would rather stay in Barbie Land where women are always in power and cellulite is a myth, than venture out into the real world only to be arrested for rollerblading.

It's no surprise that it's Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon) who convinces Stereotypical Barbie to hang with the humans.  After all, it doesn't get much more real than having a toddler yank your hair out by the roots and tattoo your face with Jem-style graffiti.  McKinnon kooks it up brilliantly, pouring every ounce of SNL alien abductee energy into channeling the discarded doll.  As for her aesthetic, it's excellently edgy, a kind of warped candy cute.  Her outfit and house are my favorite. 

But this isn't about Weird Barbie.  It's about Stereotypical Barbie.  And what she learns is what we all learn at some point -- that things aren't always perfect.   Also, that sometimes it's better to have an Allan (Michael Cera) than a Ken (Ryan Gosling).  Finally, not to trust men in charge. (I'm looking at you, shades-of-Mugatu Mattel CEO Will Ferrell.)  Yet however imperfect, it's still okay.  Because being human is a beautiful mess, and the only way to clean it up is to muss your hair and snag your stockings.  Authenticity is better than plastic.  

And that, Barbie girls, is nothing to toy with.

Punch Line? Feeling Fine! The Tears of a Clown are the Saddest

Judd Apatow's Sicker in the Head hit me the same way that his first book, Sick in the Head did.  Which is to say that it's not a laugh-a-minute collection of interviews with comedians and entertainers, but an introspective look at how the comedy sausage is made.  And one of the main ingredients, unsurprisingly, is emotional damage.  Because for all its seeming frivolity, comedy is a coping mechanism.  And if laughter is the best medicine, then comedians self medicate.  Apatow puts it best in his foreword:

"I have always seen comedy as a lifeline -- which is why I've been interviewing comedians about why they do what they do since I was fifteen years old.  Without comedy, I don't know how I would survive.  When the pandemic was at full force, I grabbed my family and made a really silly movie.  I didn't know what else to do.  Is that healthy?  Is it denial?  Is it medicine?  Is it sick?  I am not sure.  But now I know that when the world seems to be collapsing my reaction is to make a movie about a group of people having a meltdown during a pandemic as they attempt to make a movie about flying dinosaurs." (Apatow XII)

Apatow picks the brains of many beloved funny people, including Jimmy Kimmel, John Mulaney, Mindy Kaling, Pete Davidson, and Samantha Bee, ending, appropriately, with Will Ferrell.  Because who better than the guy who wrote "I've got a fever -- and the only prescription is more cowbell" to close a conversation about being sick in the head?  Ferrell talks about that, how the idea for the famous Blue Oyster Cult sketch came to him because he roots for the underdog:

"Even just the notion of driving along and listening to "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," by Blue Oyster Cult and hearing a faint sound of a cowbell.  I don't know how I had that idea.  I remember, the first time I heard that song, for some reason I focused on the cowbell, and I immediately thought, What's that guy's life like?  Does he ever get to hang out?  The sad weirdo who's trying to be a part of the group really appeals to me." (451)

Me too, Will.  Me too. 

Christmas Party Punch: Deck the Neck

Left to right: Scarf: Boscov's; Purse Charm: A.C. Moore; Earmuffs: Betsey Johnson for Trolls, Macy's

Winter Wonderland Necklace

Sweater: Kohl's

Neon Noel Necklace

December means decking the halls, and what's a necklace if not a neck garland?  So I channeled my inner elf and made these two necklaces all about snowflakes and Santa (Santa, I know him!).  The snowflake one, a.k.a. Winter Wonderland, makes me think of my Great Aunt Celeste's beautiful blue Christmas decorations.  She put blue Christmas balls in her wineglasses and a mirror under her Christmas tree to look like a lake, and I was enchanted.  The Santa one, a.k.a. Neon Noel, is your classic Claus gone glam.  Deep down I always thought that those mall St. Nicks would've been more festive in hot pink and rhinestones.

And festive is the name of the game when it comes to Christmas parties and punches.  Because as George Costanza's father once wisely said, it's a Festivus for the rest of us.

Which has nothing to do with what I just said.  But what the hell -- if calories don't count during December, then neither does reason.

Keep it festive, people.

Horse With No Shame: How the West Was Fun

Top: Chaps, Kohl's

Camisole: Macy's

Boots: 2 Lips Too, Zulily

Cardigan thingy: Kohl's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Marshalls

Scarf: Mossimo, Target

Remember those Stetson cologne commercials from the '90s?  The ones with the glamorous cowboy and cowgirl setting off on a horse for a night of romance?  (By the way, get ready for romance -- the word, not the thing -- because I'm going to use it a lot.)  I always found them intriguing, even if I never smelled the dubious drugstore scent they were hawking and knew better than to romanticize people who smell, not like adventure, but horse hide.  Maybe it's because I'm so firmly East Coast and am attracted to anything different.  Kind of like when Maine-bred interim Dunder Mifflin branch manager Deangelo Vickers (Will Ferrell) declared his love for paintings of the Southwest.  

That said, I think my love of western wear, both its bold serape stripes (I see you, Chaps sweatshirt) and blushing prairie florals (right on, Willa Cather-esque cardi), is rooted in delusion, er, idealism, much like Deangelo Vickers's.  It's a way for me to experience the wild west's romance without having to endure its hardscrabble reality. 

Because if there's anything I hate, then it's stuff described as hardscrabble.  

See above thing about smelly horses.

Evergreen Screen, Tinseltown Tannenbaum

Me and 3G have decided to give picture-less posting another try.  Now, usually I use my photos-slash-projects as the basis of my hook.  You know, that thread that, however tenuously, ties all my nonsense together.  So this time -- heads up -- I'm using the pictures in my mind.

Let us consider the Christmas tree.  It's but a pleat in Mother Nature's dark green gown, a relic of the outdoors that we bring indoors and domesticate with acres of lights and ornaments, some store-bought, some handmade, some elegant, some primitive, all of them converging in a joyful jumble that should look ridiculous but doesn't.  Yet even all dressed up, sometimes the Christmas tree misbehaves.  Sometimes it falls, narrowly missing Grandpa as he sleeps off his eggnog; other times it hatches insects and reptiles, reminding us that it's still wild and unpredictable despite our efforts to make it conform to our carefully curated winter wonderlands.  But that's okay.  Because at the end of the (holi)day, it's the crazy that makes it Christmas.

Which is pretty much the message of every Christmas movie ever, including the two I just saw: Daddy's Home 2 and A Bad Moms Christmas.  (See what I did there?  Hook, line, and stinker.) Boys will be boys and girls just want to have fun in these festive family free-for-alls.  No sophomore slumps for these sequels; both assault and then rescue Christmas with all the hijinks and heart we've come to expect from holiday features.  Daddy's Home 2 revisits the blended family blues, this time with a marshmallow of a John Lithgow and a hard-ass Mel Gibson joining Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg to stir the Bailey's-spiked hot chocolate pot.  And in A Bad Moms Christmas, Mila Kunis, Kristen Bell, and Kathryn Hahn take a break from being bad moms to deal with having bad moms, namely the trying trio of Christine Baranski, Cheryl Hines, and Susan Sarandon.  Through criticism, smothering, and good old-fashioned neglect, these mamas serve up fare far worse than fruitcake.  Guess Will Smith was right: parents just don't understand.  Well, at least not until they see the light -- on top of the Christmas tree.  Yep, the very same one harboring larvae and snakes, although no such snafu took place in either movie (but, hey, maybe should have).

You know, the last time I blogged about Daddy's Home, I compared it to Sisters.  And I said (something like) "I liked Daddy's Home better, but Sisters taught me more."  Well, this time I didn't learn anything, and I preferred Bad Moms. Which shows, I think, a modicum of personal growth (because it takes guts to admit that knowledge isn't always power), something our friend the Christmas tree knows lots about.

Oh, Tannenbaum, can't wait to light your candle.

I Spy with my Little Eye the Candy Colors of Kawaii

 Fabulous Felt Sweet Strawberries Barrette

Dress: Modcloth

Blouse: Marshalls

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Candie's, Kohl's

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Michaels

 Fabulous Felt Pastel Celestial Barrette

Top: Wet Seal

Skirt: Necessary Objects, Annie Sez

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Fabulous Felt Pastel Pastries Barrette

Dress: Modcloth

Blouse: Marshalls

Shoes: Bongo, Kohl's

Bag: Marshalls

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Michaels

Bracelet: Cloud 9, Ocean City

Ring: Making Waves, Ocean City

Remember when you were a kid and you'd go on car trips with your parents and look for things outside the window that were yellow or started with the letter "k" or looked like a giant marshmallow (I'm looking at you, Michelin Man)?  Well, this post is like that in no way (except for maybe echoing some of the whimsy of one Mr. Michelin).  It's about revamping my Etsy shop, a process I feel compelled to document despite the dangers of revealing how the sausage is made.

Some time ago, I decided to narrow my shop categories down to a spare and sassy three: Carnival Candy, Rustic Romance, and Twee Party.  Because Necklaces, Barrettes, and Other made too much sense and were kind of boring.  No, I wanted magic and mystery in my categories, weird and enigmatic phrases that would make shoppers go, "What the . . .?"  Even I'm not entirely sure what they mean.  (What is a rustic romance, anyway?  A dalliance between garden gnomes?)  I just knew that they conveyed certain styles.  Carnival Candy was supposed to be glam, Rustic Romance was supposed to be boho, and Twee Party was supposed to be sweet.  And they were.  Sort of.  But after a while they also started to look alike, all melting into a morass of Willy Wonka-esque, rainbow-colored goo.  If Will Ferrell's Mugatu were weighing in, then he'd say that they were the Blue Steel of handmade accessories; Carnival Candy, Rustic Romance, Twee Party -- it's like I'm taking crazy pills; they're all the same!  So, I needed to find a way to lose the uniformity but keep the crazy (a plan that surely even Mugatu would approve of).  And I decided that the best way to do that was through color.  Carnival Candy would be all crayon box brights; Rustic Romance would be earthy browns, tans, oranges, yellows, evergreens, fuchsias, and deep purples; and Twee Party would be sugary pinks, mints, lavenders, yellows, turquoises, tans, and browns (these last two exclusively for portraying caramel and chocolate, but of course).  I thought, what better way to do this than to remake some old designs in new colors?  So I took these strawberry, celestial, and pastry themes, all initially done in a carnival palette, and recreated them as kawaii copies baked to be the life of the twee and crumpets party (even if the moon isn't edible except for maybe in that classic kid's book Mooncake.  Also, if you subscribe to the green [or in this case, green-blue] cheese theory).  I'm looking forward to trying this with other food motifs as well as flowers and palm trees.

Like all things Trove, it's a work in progress.      

Hoop Memes and Football Teams

 Sour Apple Sparkle Necklace

Top: JCPenney

Skirt: Boscov's

Shoes: Bongo, Kohl's

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

 Seahorse of Course Necklace

Red top: Kohl's

Tank top: Marshalls

Skirt: Byer, JCPenney

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

Boho Rainbow Necklace

Top: Alloy

Jeans: Bongo, Sears

Shoes: a.n.a, JCPenney

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Today may be Super Bowl Sunday, but here at the Trove, the hoopla is all about the hoops.  And why not?  The brown wooden hoop pendant that serves as the focal point for all three of this week's necklaces is as rustically Midwestern as Hoosiers itself (carved girly floral motif notwithstanding) and boasts a 1970s vibe to boot (or maybe I should say to sneaker).  I gave each one its own personality by doing what I love to do best -- gluing stuff to other stuff -- to turn these bench warmers into first string (er, wire) style stars.  So, channel your inner Jackie Moon (because Semi-Pro was set in the 1970s, and who doesn't love a Will Ferrell reference?) and meet the team!

Sour Apple Sparkle

An apple a day keeps the doldrums away -- especially if it's a Granny Smith doused in glitter.  Fiona here knows how to play to win, even if the music of one Ms. Apple was harvested sometime in the 1990s.  I think that Fiona could probably hold her own in the 1970s, though, what with her super-long hair, boho clothes, and feminist lyrics.  Plus, she could belt out a badass ballad with the best of them, so we'll just let this anachronism slide, slide, slippity slide for the sake of this post, much like (necklace, not songstress) Fiona does across the basketball court.  Even if I just committed another anachronism by quoting a Coolio song from the 1990s.     

Seahorse of Course  

A horse is a horse, of course, of course, and no one can talk to a horse of course that is, of course, unless the horse is the famous  . . . Mrs. Edna.  Sweet and sugary in shades of peach, mint, and buttercream, this seahorse-studded stunner wages a wave of whimsy against the chocolatey earth of her own land-locked hoop.  Yet this pony of a paradox doesn't end there.  Despite her penchant for pastels, Mrs. Edna is no powder puff (I managed to sneak some football in there after all); she's a surf and turf toughie who plays by the rules, her only traveling from the ranch to the beach.

Boho Rainbow

And finally we have a contender that captures all the colors of a Kansas rainbow.  In a sunny salute to the Age of Aquarius, Rainbow knows how to bust a move on the court -- even if it is the mall food court (hey, she's not last in our lineup for nothing).  Fruit salad for her please, and make it a large; Emerald City sister or not, this miss is no munchkin.  More cheerleader than three-pointer powerhouse, Rainbow makes up for her lack of athletic prowess with her tenacious team spirit.  Because a diet of fruit always keeps you going.  Just ask Fiona.    

And that brings us to end of the game.  As they say in sports and accessorizing, go big or go home.  Because the bigger the hoop, the bigger the . .  well, you know.

Here's hoping your bowl was super duper.  

Prep School Jewels and a Few Funny Flicks

 Mr. Mushroom Necklace

Sweater: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Marilyn Monroe, Macy's

Shoes: Christian Siriano for Payless

Bag: Marshalls

Jacket: Gap Outlet

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

 Heart Hodgepodge Necklace

Sweater: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Skirt: Ellen Tracy, JCPenney

Shoes: Candie's, Kohl's

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Jacket: Gap Outlet

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

 Hits the Spot Teapot Necklace

Sweater: Macy's

Skirt: Stoosh, Macy's

Shoes: Rocket Dog, DSW

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Jacket: Mossimo, Target

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: JCPenney

 Start My Heart Necklace

Dress: Macy's

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Marshalls

Coat: Candie's, Kohl's

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Nothing says back to school like a big old mess of plaid. Even if September is long gone and my Moon Dreamers lunchbox is decorating a landfill. Still, January is as good a time as any to "Schoolhouse Rock" your style (whether you're angling for the honor roll, a social security check, or something in between), especially in this, the first month (and post!) of the year. And few things say schoolgirl like hearts. You know. Dotting i's in passed notes and notebooks, dominating drugstore-issue valentines, and popping up on post-study sesh pendants.

Ah, pendants. And barrettes. And Koosh balls. And, at least before they were banned, those snappy neon slap bracelets. When I was a kid, I lived to spend my allowance on all this and more at Afterthoughts and Claire's Boutique. Truth be told, I still have some of it! (Not the slap bracelets, though; safety first, people.)

Which is just one of the reasons I so enjoyed the Tina Fey-Amy Poehler extravaganza Sisters, an homage to 1980s kitsch -- and house parties -- as told through the story of the sisters Ellis. Fey plays freewheeling beautician and single-mom Kate to Poehler's divorced do-gooder nurse Maura, and the results are hilarious. When we meet Fey, she's giving Chris Parnell a heinous eyebrow wax; when we meet Poehler, she's giving sunscreen to a hobo who turns out to be a construction worker. Yet they're forced to put aside their differences when they find out that their parents (Dianne Wiest and Josh Brolin, just like on CBS's "Life in Pieces"!) are -- sigh -- selling their childhood home. They promptly meet up in Orlando and embark upon an epic bedroom-cleaning sequence that highlights Kate's wild child and Maura's geek girl personas in an awesome outpouring of lava lamps, trolls, feather boas, headbands, scrunchies, colorblock sweatshirts, and, that star of all such montages, diaries. (Kate's chronicles X-rated escapades whereas Maura's recounts episodes in rock tumbling. Nuff said.) Like many a repressed heroine before her, Maura is desperate to, as she puts it, "let her freak flag fly," and Kate conspires to help her by throwing a kick-ass rager cleverly coined Ellis Island Revamped, where she can chat up nice guy neighbor James (Ike Barinholtz, a.k.a. kooky nurse Morgan on "The Mindy Project"). Never mind that a stuck-up couple (the wife's wardrobe is 70% dry clean only, a sure barometer of yuppie-dom if ever there was one) has already purchased the house. Kate will stay sober so Maura can party, and everything will be okay.

Which is how movies work out never.

Before long the Brady Bunch-esque Ellis homestead is overrun with high school friends and frenemies under the influence. So, comedians abound. Maya Rudolph! Bobby Moynihan! Rachel Dratch! Kate McKinnon! Samantha Bee! Things are said, stuff is defaced, and a ballerina music box ends up somewhere it shouldn't. Kate and Maura fight, then pick up the literal and metaphorical pieces in a way that avoids being sappy. Although their personalities are at odds with each other, they have a few of those simpatico bonding moments that happen only to siblings. Which is to say, underneath the layers of Aquanet and eyeliner, Sisters keeps it real.

That having been said, Sisters is something of a foil for Daddy's Home (Will Ferrell, Mark Wahlberg) which I saw a week before and feel compelled to bring up partly because 1) both are raucous comedies headlined by SNL powerhouses and 2) both feature John Cena, a hulk of a man that I didn't know existed until seeing him in Trainwreck (yet another raucous comedy costarring an SNL favorite). Both were good, delivering on the promise of holiday hijinks, but my takeaway was this: Daddy's Home had a more cohesive plot, but I learned more from Sisters. Probably because I'm a sister. As opposed to a daddy.

Who says comedies can't be deep?

Raising the Bar

Sundae Sundae Sundae Barrettes

Top: Delia's

Skirt: (a dress!) Kohl's

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Belt: Tournier Everything's $10 store

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Scarf: Wet Seal

 Pink Piano Barrettes

Camisole: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Dress: Macy's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Wallet: Betsey Johnson

Sunglasses: Cloud Nine, Ocean City

Lightning Bolt Barrettes

Dress: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Shoes: Dollhouse, Marshalls

Bag: Nine West, Boscov's

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Sadly, this post is not about Zack Morris's first foray into TNT legal dramedies.  It's about how I once bought a bunch of French clip barrettes when I couldn't find alligator clips and how at first I thought they were awful.  I mean, you couldn't clip them to your blouse or purse strap or jacket -- only to your hair.  Talk about limiting!  But that was before I started parting my hair in the middle and pinning up each side, necessitating the need for two twin oblong somethings.  Once I got to work, it was hard to believe that I had ever found these bars, well, sub-par.  The long rectangles turned out to be the ideal canvases for all sorts of new designs: piano keys (Frankie Goes to Hollywood, relax!  They're not neckties :), ice cream scoops, raindrops, basically anything best displayed in a row! 

Me wearing my facsimile of the Sundae Sundae Sundae Barrettes.  You didn't think I'd put a for-sale item in my hair, did you?!