Showing posts with label Unlisted. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Unlisted. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 29, 2023

Riding the Wardrobe Wave

Dress: So, Kohl's; Shoes: Jessica Simpson, DSW

Bag: H&M; Ring: PinkBopp, Etsy

Barrettes: The Tote Trove

Surf Pretty Necklace

Top: Simply Vera, Kohl's; Dress: Minuet, Modcloth

Bag: Worthington, JCPenney; Ring: PinkBopp


Shoes: Unlisted, Marshalls

Top: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's; Skirt: Nine West, Kohl's

Bag: Merona, Target; Scarves: A.C. Moore

I'm going to keep this one short.

Some people have no problem hopping atop a surfboard.  Even the thought of doing that terrifies me.  But I'm the first in line when it comes to wearing a quintuple of surfboards around my neck.

I guess that's my super power. 😏🌊

Wednesday, May 18, 2022

Big Prints, Big House: A Symphony for Sephora

Dress: POPSUGAR, Kohl's

Barrette: Carole, JCPenney


Top: Crave Fame, Macy's

Shoes: Kenneth Cole Unlisted, Marshalls

Skirt: Nine West, Kohl's

Hilda Harmonica Necklace

Green and yellow bangles: B Fabulous; Orange and striped bangles: Mixit, JCPenney; Barrettes: The Tote Trove; Ring: PinkBopp, Etsy; Belt: Marshalls
 
Pants: Vylette, Kohl's

Barrettes: SHEIN

Bangles: Mixit, JCPenney; Necklace: Candies, Kohl's

Socks: Zulily; Shoes: Circus by Sam Edelman, Kohl's

I never shy away from bringing big prints.  And in this post I bring a bunch, including polka dots, zebra, plaid, checks, and hearts.  Also, a harmonica necklace.  You may remember the first harmonica necklace I made using a bright green New Year's Eve party favor.  Well, last week I found its tangerine twin behind the TV.  I can only imagine that it landed there during one of my long-ago, four-person ragers.  Anyway, I was excited to spot it.  Even as I tried very hard not to think about how harmonicas are associated not with fun and games, but with jail and, in this case, orange jumpsuits.

Still, I'd be remiss in not mentioning that other big house big on big prints, namely old-timey prison-esque black and white stripes.  And that house, of course, is Sephora:


One opened in my local Kohl's recently, so I checked it out for Mother's Day gifts.  And it was a different world.  There were women rocking expertly winged eyeliner and others seeking that unicorn known as the perfect foundation.  As someone who buys most of her makeup at Walgreens (save for a few temptingly packaged lipsticks), I found it fascinating and glam, so much so that I photographed the wall art behind the counter.

I love its sentiment as much as its billboard-bright colors: "We belong to something beautiful."  

We do, Sephora, we do.  So think of this orange harmonica riff of a necklace as a symphony written, not in a penitentiary but in a palace, its bittersweet citrus notes sounding -- and in the spirit of perfume also smelling -- just for you.

Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Produce in Paradise: Whoa, Where's My Pizza?

Sweater: Mudd, Kohl's; Shoes: Unlisted, Marshalls; Belt: Marshalls

Rainbow Palms Brooch Barrette

Skirt: Candie's, Kohl's

No, I'm not talking about a thick, cheesy pie smothered in ham chunks and pineapple rings.  I'm talking about my new pineapple purse . . . and, eventually, my dearly departed DiGiorno.  The purse was an early birthday gift, and I was mighty excited to get it.  Not just because it's cute, but because it's one of the few full-size (I do have a pineapple coin purse) fruits missing from my fashion fruit basket.

Bag: Amazon

Speaking of tropical things, here's that warm weather post in the dead of winter.  How did it get here so fast?!  

To celebrate/commemorate/hibernate, I made this Rainbow Palms Brooch Barrette, which features twin palm trees on a stretch of strawberry-lemon sand, a rainbow rising between them.  Can you say Calgon, take me away?  (Unlike the ocean, Calgon lacks sea lice and sewage.)

When I was little, I used to like that song "(Put the Lime in the) Coconut."  I still sing it in my head whenever a big boatload of fruit loot washes ashore (which happens more often than you might think).  But these days I should be singing about putting the lime in the raspberry.  Because not too long ago, a retailer that shall remain nameless dropped off three cases of sparkling water -- one lime, one cherry, and one raspberry-lime -- that I didn't order.  It was mixed in with the stuff I did order, though, so I just shrugged and put it in the pantry.  Now, before you go all citizen's arrest, I should point out that one of my orders from this same store was once delivered to someone else, and yet another order was never delivered at all.  Needless to say, this place is now dead to me.  But when it came to the free drinks, I chalked it up to a round of retail roulette.  (My apologies if I've said this already; it's tough to tell what I've broadcasted and what I haven't with the incessant inner monologue that is quarantine brain.)  You know how it is with online food shopping.  Sometimes another household gets your Friday night frozen pizza and ice cream, and sometimes you get some stranger's spray butter (true story on both accounts, although I've yet to try the butter.)  You win some, you lose some, and it all comes out in the wash.  Just like Barbara Boxer says about dry cleaner mix-ups during that (but aren't they all?) cringeworthy confrontation with Larry David on Curb Your Enthusiasm.  No, she will not support legislation to return patrons' lost garments because the pants she's wearing aren't even hers!  Anyway, I don't like sparkling water.  No matter what flavor it is, it always tastes like a fruit salad farted into an exhaust pipe.  So, to use it up, I mix it with limeade and maraschino cherry juice, and it isn't half bad.  Because what doesn't give you diabetes makes you stronger -- and less likely to eviscerate some poor Shipt driver on Yelp.

In honor of no-show groceries everywhere, I'll leave you with this: Missing milk carton on a milk carton.  Think about that for five seconds.  

Sunday, December 9, 2018

Bright Tights, Big City


 Day Glo Gumball Necklace

Tee: Mighty Fine,  JCPenney
Blouse: My Michelle, Kohl's
Skirt: Bubblegum, Macy's
Shoes: Unlisted, Marshalls
Bag: Nordstrom

So, I read this Pulitzer-nominated, "serious" book that I didn't much like and was all set to blog about it by saying, "I kept at it and eventually realized that this book was not unlike our friend the crab -- you had to labor away at cracking the claws to get to the delicious meat.  (And yes, my choice of the word "friend" to describe dinner is not lost on me.)."  Then I read this other, wonderful book and said, oh, scrap it, I'll blog about that instead.

That book is Still Me, which is Jojo Moyes's final volume in the beloved Louisa Clark trilogy.  Surely you remember Lou, the bright-eyed and brightly clad caretaker of the handsome, wealthy, and embittered paraplegic Will Traynor?  They fell in love, and then he died and they made a movie about it starring the Mother of Dragons (Emilia Clarke) from "Game of Thrones?"  Well, Moyes wrote another book after that called After YouMe Before You ends with Lou setting out bravely into the Paris sunshine wearing the bespoke bumblebee-striped tights that Will gave her.  But in After You she's back in England and has to get on with it.  And she starts by stumbling off a ledge and being rescued by a hunky paramedic named Sam.  Sam's steady influence helps shepherd her through 1) a humiliating gig as an Irish-themed Hooters barmaid and 2) becoming a kind of foster mom to Will's surprise of a troubled teenage daughter.  They fall in love and it's lovely -- not at all like when Oliver moves on after Jenny in, blech, Oliver's Story.  (Full disclosure: I've never actually read Oliver's Story.  That's how much I hate the idea.)  But then, maybe that's because Will was doomed from the start, destined, it seems, to be Louisa's teacher (his last name is Traynor, after all, which sounds an awful lot like "train her") as opposed to her partner, making the idea of Lou and Sam go down easier.  At the end of After You, Sam gets shot (what?!) -- but lives, and Lou emigrates to New York City to become a caretaker for another super rich family.  Because, despite overcoming her grief, she still has to grow, to move from the small town where she's always lived to take a bite from the Big Apple.

So, now that you're all caught up, let's plunge into Still Me, shall we?


Louisa is the paid companion (I don't know about you, but that term always gives me the giggles) of Agnes Gopnick, a seemingly innocuous if high-strung Polish masseuse-turned-socialite who's in her late twenties just like Louisa.  As the second and much younger wife of a captain of industry, she's despised far and wide in Manhattan.  That's why she needs Louisa to play therapy dog.  Yet things aren't easy for Louisa either.  Getting used to a new country, a hideous uniform (no small feat for fashion girl Lou -- although she grins and bears it with the same equanimity as she does everything), and the ways of the one-percenters, all while missing Sam terribly, is nothing to sneeze at.  And although this book has an offbeat and keen sense of humor, it isn't of the zany-new-girl-in-the-city variety.  It's a story of layers, and sometimes it tears your heart out.  Because Louisa is put through the wringer, both on the job and off the clock.  Even after everything she's been through, her still-trusting nature lands her in trouble.  Suffice it to say that a lot of stuff happens, and she leaves the Gopnick household and ends up as the, albeit unpaid, companion of an old lady named Margot De Witt.  Earlier in the book, Mrs. De Witt seems like an unfeeling crone.  And initially she doesn't care for Louisa.  But after an emergency throws them together, Lou's kindness and their shared love of fashion win Mrs. De Witt over, and the two soon become confidantes.  As a retired fashion magazine editor, Mrs. DeWitt has roomfuls of crazy designer clothes and accessories, which, paired with her ballsy attitude, made me picture her as Iris Apfel.  (It turns out that this was what Moyes intended, as revealed in the Q&A at the end of the book.)  Luckily, I have this book about Iris, which I first heard about on Tiara's Jewel Divas Style blog, to post here for your viewing pleasure:


Anyway, things are finally on the upswing for Louisa.  She has a knack for getting herself into impossible situations only to muster her considerable imagination and optimism to turn it all around.  This is how Moyes takes us from the depths of despair to the kind of feel-good, well, feeling where the garden explodes into bloom and a trolley of tea cakes races in from the wings (this being an English story; if it were based in New Jersey, then I'd say non-urine-tainted water slides and Manco's pizza).  Moyes makes you work hard for the happy ending (there were more than a couple of times when I thought, why couldn't I have just chosen a nice cheerful murder mystery instead of hopping aboard this emotional roller coaster?).  But that makes it all the more satisfying; no plot hole-filled Swiss cheese here, just the sweet, gritty crunch of gumballs (like -- insert subtle product placement -- the ones in my Day Glo Gumball Necklace).  Because Still Me isn't any old romance; it's a good romance.  Plus a journey of self discovery.

Here's one of my favorite parts.  Partly because it captures the book's theme, partly because it's about clothes.  (I can't tell you my actual favorite part because it's even more of a spoiler than the rest of this post.)  Louisa and Agnes are at the famed Yellow Ball, and Agnes is worried that her avant-garde gown doesn't fit in with the other women's more classic looks:

Lou: "Own it.  Hold your head up.  Like you couldn't give a crap."

She (Agnes) stared at me (Lou).

Lou: "A friend once taught me this.  The man I used to work for.  He told me to wear my stripey legs with pride."

Agnes: "Your what?"

Lou: "He . . .Well, he was telling me it was okay to be different from everyone else.  Agnes, you look about a hundred times better than any of the other women here.  You're gorgeous.  And the dress is striking.  So just let it be a giant finger to them.  You know?  I'll wear what I like."  (54)

Agnes may have billions, but Louisa has wisdom.

Guess you can say she earned those stripes.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

Twee Party: Bow Blouse, Take a Bow




 Unicorn Horn Barrette

Dress: L'Amour by Nanette Lepore for JCPenney
Blouse: Target
Shoes: BCBG, Macy's
Bag: Call it Spring, JCPenney
Belt: Wet Seal



 Prancing Pegasus Barrette

Top: She Said, JCPenney
Skirt: Marshalls
Shoes: Candie's, Kohl's
Bag: Eleven Peacocks, Etsy
Ribbon belt: Craft supply box
Scarf: Gifted



 Funky Fruit Friends Barrettes

Blouse: Marshalls
Cardigan: DKNY, Macy's
Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's
Shoes: Unlisted, Marshalls
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's




Blouse: UK Style by French Connection, Sears
Cardigan: Candie's, Kohl's
Skirt: Marilyn Monroe, Macy's
Shoes: Candie's, Kohl's
Bag: Wet Seal
Belt: Wet Seal
Scarf: Express




 Swallow My Heart Barrette

Dress: JCPenney
Blouse: Oxford & Regent, JCPenney
Shoes: Rocket Dog, DSW
Bag: Gifted
Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's




 Prickly Pals Barrette

Pink top: Marshalls
Black top: Marshalls
Skirt: Candie's, Kohl's
Shoes: Guess, DSW
Bag: Xhilaration, Target
Belt: B Fabulous




 White Unicorn Barrette

Dress: Target
Blouse: Kohl's
Shoes: Payless
Bag: Xhilaration, Target
Belt: Candie's, Kohl's




 Cheery Cherries Barrette

Blouse: Alloy
Tank: Worthington, JCPenney
Skirt: Stoosh, Macy's
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Call it Spring, JCPenney
Belt: Wet Seal
Scarf: Wet Seal




 Dainty Doughnuts Barrette

Blouse: JCPenney
Tank: Old Navy
Skirt: L'Amour by Nanette Lepore for JCPenney
Shoes: Candie's, Kohl's
Bag: Betseyville, Marshalls




 Fresh Fruit Friends Barrette

Blouse: Alloy
Cardigan: So, Kohl's
Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's
Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's
Bag: Xhilaration, Target
Sunglasses: JCPenney




 Foxy Friends Barrette

Dress: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's
Blouse: Marshalls
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's
Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's
Belt: JCPenney




 Pretty Pegasus Barrette

Blouse: Kohl's
Cardigan: Merona, Target
Skirt: I Heart Ronson, JCPenney
Shoes: Bongo, Kohl's
Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's
Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's




Hearts and Flowers Barrette

Dress: Modcloth
Blouse: Marshalls
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: American Eagle, Payless

Some weeks ago I consolidated my ten shop sections into a mere three, one of which is called Twee Party. You know, like Tea Party, but without the watercress.  (The other two sections are Carnival Candy and Rustic Romance, oldies but goodies with the same inventory but more of it).  According to the good folks at dictionary.com, "twee" is mostly used by the British and means "affectedly dainty or quaint."  I like to think that it came about when some fish-and-chips-eating cherub tried to say "tree" but lisped over a biscuit.  As advertised, the stuff in the Twee Party section is extra sweet too, the kind of pinky pastel, super kawaii accouterments that rely heavily on desserts, unicorns, woodland creatures (and yes, that is a fox canoodling with a deer; here in the Trove we don't discriminate), and other fantasy fare hearted by ten-year-olds and this nearly thirty-three-year-old.

Anyway, New Year's seemed like the perfect time for a post about bows and tying one on, even if the drink up for discussion isn't the kind found in a flute, but the kind served with crumpets. Sure, thirteen outfits is a lot, but New Year's is also the perfect time for a parade, especially because these barrettes (which are, incidentally, made from plastic plates plucked from toy tea sets) have been awaiting their marching orders since Veteran's Day.      

That having been said, New Year's is a sort of faux holiday, its only hallmarks hangovers and resolutions.  Everyone always wants you to tell them your resolution, but to me, that's a personal thing.  Just one "I'm trying to be less of a klepto" and a resolution becomes a revelation, as in, "So, Jerry's the one who took our pink flamingos!"  That's why I always come up with a fake resolution, something generic and boring that can be bandied about at New Year's Eve parties without exposing any of my foibles.  Not that I've ever been guilty of filching lawn ornaments.  My only crime is liking lawn ornaments, and I have the Christmas palm twee (er, tree) on my porch to prove it.