Summer cleaning/shopping

I think I'm going to go to American Apparel this weekend (while I'm shopping for shoes) and scoop this dress up.

I think it'll be a festive addition to the closet (which I'm also planning on cleaning out this weekend).

Prêt-à-Porter

So, I'm just going to say whatever.

I was all worried about what to wear to the Follies. In years past, I've been mostly classy, but not necessarily funky. Or really, even youthful.

This year was going to be my year to change all that. i was going to go out shopping and find a cool dress and funky accessories and look like the fly 25 year old that I am in my head.

Stuff keeps getting in the way.

For example, yesterday was Valentine's Day. It was 10 a.m. and I still had nothing to wear. I started thinking and remembered a dress I saw on someone's Facebook album. I needed something I could just come in and try on and buy immediately because I had rehearsal for the Follies at noon thirty until 4 and then I was going out with the BF at 5.

So I stopped by American Apparel. I was on a mission.

I looked through the spandex on the racks, looking for the picture that matched the one in my head. Then I saw it.

The colors at American Apparel never really wow me. They're either, I think, too bland or too outrageous. None of them seem necessarily rich. I like rich colors.

Anyway, so I try it on in black*. I figure you can't go wrong with black. The dress fits perfectly -- as perfect as any AA dress can fit, if you know what I mean. But it doesn't pack that punch that I'm looking for. I walk out onto the sales floor in the dress and my fantastic boots (that I just happened to be wearing that day) and looked at the other colors.

White. Mustard. Burgundy. Plum. Asphalt.

Mmm. Asphalt.

I take Asphalt and the white back into the dressing room with me. I finally get the dress over my head and pull it down over my hips. A smile creeps over my lips as I look into the mirror.

This is it.

I rush to the cashier and tell her to ring up asphalt -- and black, you really can't go wrong with black -- in a medium. I walk out with a small bag and a tinging ping of guilt (my job may have layoffs in the next week or so and I just spent $75 on two dresses, sigh).

After practice, I run home, shower, and throw the dress on. I pair it with camel colored patent leather heels I got from H&M and my go-to tan bag. I throw on some eyeshadow and pop open my new lipgloss from Cargo (freaking fantastic). A few spritzes of Jean Paul Gautier sample I got when I ordered the Cargo (I love Sephora!) and I'm out the door.

The evening goes well and the BF liked the dress. A lot. (sorry, I forgot to take pics, but trust, I was looking right.)

Anyway, so I said all that to say that instead of looking for a new dress, I'm going to wear the black AA dress I bought yesterday.

I'm thinking of buying some pumps (maybe red stilletoes or leopard print) and either a printed purse, or wearing my go to tan clutch to the Follies at the end of this month. I've already got my hair appointment to do the aforementioned hairstyle to my head (I don't need the stress of trying to get this right myself -- and really don't have a day to just play until the show is over).

So yeah. I'm saying whatever and instead of just searching for the perfect dress, I'm going to wear what I'm comfortable in. And I promise, I'll be sure to take pictures.


*the Web site doesn't have the exact dress, but the link is to the most similar one I could find. It's just like that, but with no ribbing.

Considering the crack

I think I might be breaking down because it just. keeps. calling. my. name.

I might get a smartphone.

Shussh. Don't tell nobody.

So, here's how this potential breakdown/silent protest against the 24 hour workday came about.

The BF has an iPhone. You've seen them. They're cool. And so daggone functional. Like, oh, we're going out to the mall, let me scroll to Bank of America to check my account balance. Some downtime on the train? Veronica just put up a funny facebook status. Wanna make an appointment to get fitted? Let me check my calendar.

Like I said. Super functional.

And here's how I came to envy it. (I know, horrible, right?)

I'm all about paper planners. I love the idea of writing things down and making notes and being able to flip through pages. But it's becoming a lot less convenient. I'm all on my Outlook tip these days, using the calendar and contacts function and e-mailing up a storm with my boss. So, as I'm talking to a source who wants me to stop by Town Hall on Thursday, I just go to my calendar, type in the info and tell him I'll see him then.

I don't transfer it to the paper calendar. Which becomes a problem.

So when I'm not near my computer, I literally have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing on any given day. I feel like I'm just drifting through space because I don't have those little white boxes (on the teal background, thank you) telling me that I need to check on that child porn case from 2 to 2:30 p.m. I also would love having access to all of my contacts on my phone, especially since with the new position, I spend a lot of my time in the courthouse away from my Rolodex (yes, I was old school until I upgraded) and Outlook contacts.

Now, the obvious problem with getting a smartphone will be that it will cost me money. Probably lots of it over the course of life. Actually, let's do some math.

My monthly bill now is about $60. Which means that for a year, I pay roughly $720 to call and text all the important and/or necessary people in my life. The data/internet/call/text plan I'd have to get from Sprint is about $99, which would up my bill to $1,188.

In case you missed it, that would be an additional $468 a year -- an extra $39 a month.

And I'm not sure I want the committment.

Today, I bugged an AP reporter in court about his (work sponsored) Palm and how he liked it (he's addicted) and talked to my girl over sushi about her Blackberry (she wants me to get one). But I'm not sure. Some of them are kinda ugly. This one seems to do what I want. Not sure how I feel about the design. And everyone and their mama have the Blackberry Curve it seems.

The BF did find this one, which makes me drool. It links your AIM and text message conversations with one person so you can see them in one place. And it's touch screen.

I don't know if I can deal.

A public service announcement

It seems I'd been hearing about it a lot recently.

My sister and her friend mentioned it when I went to NYC for Christmas.

Soraya mentioned it on her blog the other day.

So I figured it was about that time to get a bra fitting.

Thankfully, mine wasn't as *ahem* hands on as Soraya's was. The woman, probably a little older -- if that -- than me, told me to lift my shirt and she measured my band size. Then, with the eye of a woman 3 times her age, she looked at my melons and estimated my cup size.

I doubted her. Oh, I doubted.

Then she brought back two bras so I could try them on for fit. I'll be if they didn't fit absolutely perfect.

I asked her to grab a few bras for me to try on while I stayed in the dressing room amazed that all this time, I'd been wearing holsters where my cups were too small and my band size was too large.

I'll admit it though -- I was admiring myself in the mirror. Amazing what a proper fitting undergarment can do. Amazing.

Within the hour, I'd tried on, let's say, 20 bras, and I emerged from Nordstrom's with a lucky three. I wasn't happy about the bill and change I had to drop to take them with me, but I figured an investment is an investment. Plus, walking around with bras you can't remember buying is not what's up.

So yeah, go get 'em measured. You'll be glad you did.

Closet Case

So I'm in the midst of this massive fall cleaning.

I'm doing pretty okay. My house looks otherwise, but I'm doing okay. A large part of that is probably that I spend as little time as possible in my house, and if I am there, I'm cleaning. So I'm not just like, sitting in a pile of purses, ATM receipts and expired salad dressing.

Well, I decided to tackle my closet on Saturday. I'd been sick all week and took a half day on Friday. After sleeping the night away heavily drugged, I got up feeling pretty okay.

And I knew I needed to clean.

Confession time: Remember that trip I went on? Yeah, in July? Um, my suitcase was still sitting at the foot of my bed unpacked. I'd step over it on my way into bed each night. If I needed something inside of it, I'd just rifle through the contents and find the wrinkled article of clothing and put it on.

Don't judge me.

So, I didn't want to do too much on my first day not feeling horrible, so I figured unpacking the suitcase would be a worthwhile venture. But then I realized something: the reason I hadn't unpacked was because I had nowhere to put anything. My walk in closet (yes, it's fantastic) was jammed pack.

Yet I had nothing to wear. Peculiar? I think so.

Tackling the closet was no easy task. As I mentioned, I'm a semi-pack rat, so it pained me to consider throwing out club shirts I hadn't worn since I was 18, shoes I'd worn until the soles flapped, or bags that were perfectly fine except for the gaping hole in the lining. But slowly, I tackled the closet. Taking out the papers, cleaning out the purses, putting every ill fitting, ugly, or just ridiculously old piece of clothing into a trash bag and tossing it into the living room. (That pile of bags, by the way, is beginning to take over my living area. But I digress.)

When I finished hanging up the last skirt and restacking the last shoe box, I was amazed at what I saw. My closet was 1/2 full.

I panicked.

What would I wear? What if all of my clothes were dirty and I needed that short sleeved white polyester sweater that I'd gotten in 11th grade? And how would I ever replace my clothes?!

Then I realized I'd just done laundry and a bunch of clothes were still in the laundry basket.

Relief.

Still, it made me realize that this is the perfect opportunity to re-up my closet. I'm tossing some old jackets and winter coats next -- and my prom dress may have to go as well -- so when it gets cold, I'll have to buy stylish replacements to keep me going through these tough New England winters.

This might not be so bad after all.