Celebrity Date Nut Cred: Giving Love a Swirl (or Swirly)

From left to right: Self Esteem, Macy's; Delia's, Dolls Kill

When I first saw the commercials for The Celebrity Dating Game hosted by Zooey Deschanel and Michael Bolton, I was like, what?!  I couldn't remember a duo that bizarre since that Martha Stewart and Snoop Dog ad for Tostitos.  Which is to say, I had to watch it.  

The show, which airs on Mondays on ABC, is a reboot (yes, another one!) of The Dating Game, which first aired in 1965.  As a nod to that peace and love era, the set is adorned with big, groovy purple flower décor (just as this very post is decked out with swirly sweet tie dye tees).  And in the tradition of 1983's Love Connection, 1995's Singled Out, and, yes, the original The Dating Game, its "plot" centers around one lonesome lad or lady grilling three randos in an attempt to find love.  Only in this case, the on-the-prowl soul is a secret celebrity hidden from the hopefuls.  The celebrity asks the competitors a series of questions, ostensibly to determine their compatibility but really to entertain us, and the answers are as ridiculous as you'd expect.  For example, when comedian Nicole Byer asked one particularly dubious dude to describe love, he said that it was "like taking a dump."  So, it's all pretty cringeworthy.  But not bad background TV to craft to.  Indeed, one contestant's dream date for former bachelorette Hannah Brown (this is, after all, ABC), was none other than crafting, a suggestion that inspired Deschanel to pipe up, "I love crafting!"

Speaking of Deschanel, I can only surmise that the indie darling is hosting this show ironically.  But I've seen enough celebs-turned-game-show-hosts on late night (Deschanel just lack week on Kimmel included), to know that she's contract-bound to never admit it.  Yet gimmicky gig or not, I always dig Deschanel's performances -- and wardrobe.  For The Celebrity Dating Game premier, she wore an adorable ruffly red and white dress that made her look like a valentine.  

As for Bolton, I think he's laughing on the inside too.  He'd have to be, as his job is to sing a parody of a famous love song filled with clues about the celebrity's identity.  Like most of us, I can't think of Bolton without remembering his Fabio locks or that Office Space line where one of the Bobs (John C. McGinley) asks office drone Michael Bolton (David Herman) what his favorite Bolton song is and he, despite his hatred of the crooner, squeaks out, "All of them."

Anyway, each episode of The Celebrity Dating Game ends with the celebrity selecting a suitor (or suitress?) and hugging him or her awkwardly.  Deschanel and company blow the signature Dating Game kisses out into the ether, and then . . . that's it.  No one goes on a date.  Which, although anticlimactic, is probably for the best, especially considering the aforementioned bathroom humor hijinks.

And now for this Electric Elephant Rampage Necklace, which has nothing to do with The Celebrity Dating Game except that I'm "rebooting," or rather, posting a new pic of it on Etsy: 

Eclectic Elephant Rampage Necklace

So come Monday, will I tune in to the next installment of The Celebrity Dating Game?  As they say, all's fair in love and ratings wars.  

And as I say, as long as there are accessories to be made, I'll give it -- if not a swirly -- a whirl.

If Seeing is Believing, Then I'll Stay a Skeptic

 Purple Sherbet Shenanigans Necklace

Sweater: Poof, Marshalls

Tank: Hollister, Marshalls

Skirt: Decree, JCPenney

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

 Rainbow Ruckus Necklace

Blouse: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Tank: Hollister, Marshalls

Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Betseyville, Marshalls

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: JCPenney

 Candy Collage Barrettes

Top: Lily Star, Target

Skirt: L'Amour by Nanette Lepore for JCPenney

Shoes: Candie's, Kohl's

Bag: Nahui Ollin

Belt: Wet Seal

Pink Sherbet Shenanigans Necklace

Top: Delia's

Jeans: City Streets, JCPenney

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Belt: Tournier Everything's $10 

I've always loved rainbow sherbet.  As a kid, I used to eat it out of cylindrical brown Pyrex bowls that made the stripes of green, pink, and orange even more magically neon.  Looking at this week's dessert-themed accessories, I wish I would've made and photographed a rainbow sherbet sundae.  In an old-fashioned ice cream parlor glass, though, not a circa 1975 piece of Pyrex.  Partly because I've been itching to bust out said glasses since my going-on-two-years-ago bridal shower.  Partly because it would've been pretty.  But mostly because it would've been a great excuse to eat ice cream in January.  But then, hindsight's 20/20.  Unlike my vision.  

Yep, it's an out-there segue, even for me.  But I promise it's a relevant one.  See, I recently discovered that I'm becoming more dependent on my glasses.  I wear them mostly just for driving but found that I need them more and more, a realization that dawned after I hatched an "experiment" to wear them all day. (I didn't say it was a sophisticated experiment.)  Sharper eyesight, however, led to another unpleasant revelation, namely that I had a gray hair or two.  "I've been living in a fool's paradise!" I thought, channeling that old lady from the Swifter commercial.  Sure, these flaws are minor and could be easily remedied by hair dye and contacts (although "easily" is a relative term considering my aversion to salons and sticking things in my eyes).  But then, it isn't what's happening that's giving me pause.  It's what what's happening represents, namely, that I'm getting, if not old, exactly, then older.

Paradoxically, wearing glasses full time makes me feel like I'm going backwards.  In TV and movies, spectacles always spell disaster.  They eradicate the "it" factor from cool girls and prevent diamonds in the rough from achieving their sparkle.  Except, of course, in that coterie of hip-to-be-square goddesses who sometimes wear glasses and sometimes don't.  Like Zooey Deschanel's Jess on "New Girl," or Tina Fey's Kate in Baby Mama. (I'd go with Liz in "30 Rock," but I think she almost always wore glasses in that, which wouldn't do much to help my case.  Besides, it was re-watching Baby Mama on FX recently that first set me off on this tangent, and I like to give credit where credit is due.)  Are we to assume that these characters are wearing contacts when they're not wearing glasses?  Or that they're just not seeing as well?  I sure hope it's the latter, because that's what I've been doing for the last 16-odd years, and I'd love for some reputable source to sanction it.  After all, Hollywood's haphazard, devil-may-care attitude toward glasses has probably, at least in some small way, contributed to my reluctance to be a 24/7 four eyes.  Their attitude toward eyewear is sort of "Now I want to look smart! Wait, now I want to look pretty!", which is kind of confusing.   Because despite my (and let's be honest, most women's) ever-ardent desire to look pretty, if there's anything I learned while dodging my optometrist's near-heroic attempts to fit me for contacts, then it's that my squeamishness outweighs my vanity (no surprise there, really, as I've avoided plucking my eyebrows and bleaching my teeth for similar reasons). Which makes me wonder.  Is wearing glasses a sign of weakness, a kind of white flag that you've given up on your looks?  Or is it a mark of maturity that you've transcended such shallow concerns?  

I think the title of this post tips my hand on that one.  Which is to say that I'll have my cake (sherbet?) and eat it too (a dubious saying if ever there was one because what would you do with cake if you didn't eat it?) by being a mere part-time Poindexter.  At least until I hit forty and succumb to bifocals.

An Eraser Chaser and a Story With Heart

 Sweet Snack Star Necklace

Top: Hollister, Marshalls

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Candie's, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Scarf: Express

 Strawberry Snack Star Necklace

Tank: Candie's, Kohl's

Tee: So, Kohl's

Skirt: H&M

Shoes: Betseyville, JCPenney

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

Cherry scarf: A.C. Moore

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

Polka dot scarf: Wet Seal

Super Size Snack Star Necklace

Jacket: Material Girl, Macy's

Tank: Mossimo, Target

Skirt: So, Kohl's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Marshalls

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: JCPenney

They say there's nothing new under the sun, and once in a while, they're right.  Years ago, I noticed fellow Etsians selling jewelry made from those kooky Japanese puzzle erasers.  Frilly desserts, fast food, fruits, and more dangled from necklaces and winked from rings, and I, for one, was charmed. Having amassed my own collection of the offbeat office supplies, I started making my own jewelry.  But because I hadn't come up with the idea, I didn't feel right about selling the pieces.  I was so staunch in this view that I even blogged about it.  Then last month I was trolling through my supplies, dedicated to my new-found mission of using up what I had, when I discovered a whole box of the things.  "I should start making stuff with these again," I thought. I picked out the cutest ones and got to work gluing the puzzle pieces together, coating them with clear nail polish, and spearing each with an eye pin and jump ring. The process was tedious but satisfying, and I felt nearly giddy as I transformed the formerly dead weight into wearable whimsy (because really, if whimsy isn't wearable, then what good is it?).  Stringing them up with star-shaped pony beads only ignited my infatuation, and when I finished I wondered if it would really be so bad if I posted them in my shop.  After all, plenty of Etsians made eraser jewelry, just as plenty of Etsians strung beads.  Talking myself out of doing the same suddenly seemed kind of silly.  So up they went, right alongside my felt and collages and everyday beads, just another curiosity in my everything-but-the-kitchen-sink setup.

Jewelry crafts are a little like love stories, which is to say, a dime a dozen yet still singular from each other.  I recently read such a romance, Me Before You, by Jojo Moyes.  This British charmer introduces us to Louisa Clark, an ordinary girl in extraordinary clothing who becomes a caretaker to a quadriplegic, the once powerful and (still) wealthy Will Traynor.  A little bit Beauty and the Beast, a little bit My Fair Lady, and a little bit anything by Nicholas Sparks, Me Before You manages to emerge as a story that stands out from its influences.  At once workaday and full of wonder, it's much like Louisa herself, refreshingly realistic even in the thick of the most trying scenes.  I immediately thought, "Oh, this would make a great movie."  I pictured a gray-skied indie flick sprigged with sweeping countryside and classic British class drama, as gently Gothic and wry as a witty old biddy in a black wedding hat.  Sure enough, when I finished reading, I saw that it was bound for the big screen, in August 2015.  My imagination started reeling, casting James Franco as Will (on account of his snarky smarts and ability to walk the line between deep and douchey) and Zooey Deschanel as Louisa (on account of her unassuming otherness, childlike candor, and quirky clothes), at least until I learned that the cast was entirely British.  Far more sensible, I thought, quickly regrouping, to keep that thread of authenticity throbbing.  I'm not going to say much more about the story, except that it's at the same time predictable and revelatory, true to its contradictions until the last page.  It -- and surely, you must have known that I was going to say something like this -- makes you think about the meaning of life, about the paradox of fate and free will and our part in it all.  That's the thing about books; they force you to hit pause amid life's chaos, trying to teach you something that you can use when you're plunged into the chaos again.

I think all of this will be well worth the price of admission next summer.  Still, it would've been nice to learn life lessons through the lens of James Franco.  Even if he was in Planet of the Apes.

The Long and Short of it Is . . .

 Beautiful Blue Lady Necklace

Top: Candie's, Kohl's

Skirt: Necessary Objects, Annie Sez

Cardigan: Merona, Target

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Princess Vera, Kohl's

 Punky Plumage Necklace

Tee: Delia's

Camisole: Worthington, JCPenney

Skirt: So, Kohl's

Cardigan: Delia's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Payless

 Mysterious Mask Necklace

Sweater: Candie's, Kohl's

Tank: So, Kohl's

Jeans: Candie's, Kohl's

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Guess, Marshalls

 Rainbow Fish Necklace

Top: Kohl's

Skirt: JCPenney

Scarf: Marshalls

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Shoes: Betseyville, JCPenney

Cool Colors Necklace

Top: Jessica Simpson, Boscov's

Tank: So, Kohl's

Jeans: City Streets, JCPenney

Boots: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Gifted

Coat: Worthington, JCPenney

. . . that fashion is fickle and sitcoms are super.  Allow me to explain.

In a not-so-recent episode of "New Girl," Nick mocks Jess's vintage handbag collection by saying (something like), "Mini skirts and rhinestone purses, that's what men want," before tossing said purse collection out the apartment window.  (For those of you thinking, "What the hey is she yapping about?", "New Girl" is a sitcom starring Zooey Deschanel as Jess, a wide-eyed, quirky teacher.  Nick is her curmudgeonly bartender boyfriend.)  "Hey, that's what I wear!" I couldn't help saying.  But the husband just shook his head and said, "No, not in the way he means."  I had to admit that he had a point.  Glitzy or not, my get-ups are more like Jess's not-quite-right purse collection than Nick's dream woman's wardrobe, in spirit if not exact style.  (Case in point: I'd never wear the rhinestone-encrusted mini featured in outfit number two without a pair of leggings).

It's no wonder that I'm always finding kernels of wisdom in sitcoms.  I love those thirty-minute comic morsels.  Whenever I'm having a bad day, I think about how what I'm going through would translate in sitcom-land.  More often than not, my trials seem instantly less cringe-worthy compared to those of the characters, lacking even enough drama to sustain a B plot.  Which is comforting.  At least until I start worrying that this may mean my life is boring.  

That's the sitcom part.  Now I'll backtrack to the fashion part, which is really just (surprise!) a blurb about my new necklaces.  

Lately I've been keeping things simple by working with just beads and pendants.  Last week it occurred to me that I rarely make long necklaces, which is weird, because I love wearing them, especially in layers.  So, I set out to string a few more inches, the result of which is evident in the elongated Beautiful Blue Lady and Mysterious Mask styles.  By contrast, the Punky Plumage and Rainbow Fish remain as abbreviated as ever, with the Cool Colors dangling somewhere in between.  Not bad progress-wise, with the eternal room for improvement flame still ablaze. 

Color Me Happy

 Crayon Box Corsage Necklace

Turtleneck: Merona, Target

Tank: Mossimo, Target

Skirt: Abbey Dawn, Kohl's

Shoes: Rocket Dog, DSW

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

 Bright Blooms Corsage Necklace

Dress: Olsenboye, JCPenney

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Delia's

Leggings: UK Style by French Connection for Sears

Fabulous Felt Tulips Necklace

Sweater: Jeanne Pierre, Marshalls

Skirt: Abbey Dawn, Kohl's

Shoes: Dollhouse, Marshalls

Bag: Nahui Ollin

Jacket: Candie's, Kohl's

Not too long ago I was watching Yes, Man for the umpteenth time and was struck by this line from Zooey Deschanel's free-spirited Allison:

"The world's a playground! You know that when you are a kid, but somewhere along the way everyone forgets it."

I thought to myself, hey, there's a lot of truth to that.  We buy kids art sets and games designed to fuel their creativity only to squash those same impulses years later (cue "I won't grow up/I don't wanna wear a tie/Or a serious expression/In the middle of July").  And that's kind of sad.  So, in the spirit of fighting the sadness, I decided to crack open the (Lisa Frank!) coloring books I got as a gift last Christmas:  

Here's some of my handiwork:

I'm not ashamed to report that coloring proved to be a lot harder than I remembered, especially when trying to shoehorn the thick crayon points into the decidedly dainty spaces of the more detailed pictures (that Ms. Frank is a deceptively wily one).  But I have plenty of pages left, so there's hope that I can one day achieve the skill set of a five-year-old. Perhaps then the creativity will really be flowing.

In keeping with the whole coloring book theme, I've posted some rephotographed neckwear led by none other than the Crayon Box Corsage.