Year: 2009

  • Edition 68: Fashion Friday

    You know what I hate? I mean other than the fact that NBC won’t be airing new episodes of Friday Night Lights until next summer and the scene in Lonesome Dove with the water moccasins?

    I hate when it’s 9:45 on a Thursday night and I realize I haven’t even started writing Fashion Friday yet, especially when I had grand intentions of starting much, much earlier but then my day ended up being busier than I’d planned.

    I had an appointment to get my hair cut at 11:00 a.m. which means I dropped Caroline off at school at 8:00 and spent the next three hours doing significant hair research on the internet in the form of looking at celebrity hairstyles and trying to make a decision about bangs for the let’s-not-even-discuss-how-many time. Then, on my way to my hair appointment, I stopped by the bank to pulse some big money out of the ATM machine to pay for my haircut, only to discover that my car window wouldn’t roll down and I had to actually get out of the car in the ATM lane like a big goob and get my cash.

    I drove to the beauty salon while attempting to get my window to roll down. How am I supposed to go to Sonic with any self-respect if I can’t roll down my driver side window to order a Route 44? The attempts at the window proved fruitless, so I went in and got my hair cut complete with bangs. They’re on the long side and not a total bang commitment, but they are most definitely bangs. I’d show you a picture but I’m sitting here in my pajamas, no makeup and a bun in my hair at this point and would frighten small children or anyone with 20/20 vision.

    Caroline had early dismissal for school so I picked her up and she went over to Gigi’s house to play with her cousin for the afternoon. I headed straight for the car wash because I noticed my entire car was covered in some type of sticky substance that P told me was pecan tree sap and I thought it might be the reason my window wouldn’t roll down. My hypothesis was correct which means I am an automotive repair genius.

    After running a few more errands, including a stop at Gap to try on the boyfriend jeans again (couldn’t commit), I went to get Caroline and my sister-in-law informed me that Old Navy has their yoga pants on sale for $2.50.

    TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS. If you think I’m not going to buy a pair for every day of the week then it’s as if you don’t know me at all.

    Unfortunately, I didn’t make it to Old Navy because I ran out of time. And I didn’t get started on Fashion Friday until a few minutes ago because I ran out of time. The important thing is that I made the time to run by the Gap to try on a pair of jeans for the second time only to find myself completely unable to make a decision regarding said jeans. I’m all about prioritizing.

    Note to self: It’s just a pair of jeans, not a lifetime commitment like joining one of those music clubs where you buy ten CD’s for 99 cents and have to buy four more before the end of the year.

    (They probably don’t even have those anymore do they?)

    Now for the questions because I have exhausted even myself:

    1. Several people have asked about Uggs: “How do I wear Uggs? Do I roll my jeans or tuck my jeans in? What are your thoughts on Uggs with tights? Am I tool old for this look?”

    I do my best to avoid controversy and, therefore, wanted to stay away from any discussion of Uggs, but it’s the number one question in my fashion folder right now. I know many of you will want to comment and say “Uggs are hideous. They are the devil’s handmaiden trying to lure you in with comfortable sheepskin!”  But have you ever actually put on a pair? Because, oh my word, they are so dang comfortable.

    I resisted the siren song of the Uggs for many a year, but finally broke down and bought some last year. Actually, I bought mine with all the Cabelas bucks that P had accumulated but whatever. They are my favorite shoes. I know they’re ugly, which is why I refrain from wearing them to weddings and bar mitzvahs, but give me some Starbucks hot chocolate and a pair of Uggs this winter and get out of my way.

    Personally, I usually wear mine with my jeans tucked in, but I’ve also been known to do the messy, casual cuffed jean with them. The trick is not to make your rolled jeans look too precise. It needs to have a casual, I just threw this on, kind of feel.

    I’ve never worn mine with tights and don’t really know how I feel about that. I think it’s a look that could be cute with the right skirt if you can pull it off. I just don’t know that I’m a fan. Uggs are comfortable but they are essentially glorified house shoes which, in my opinion, means they look best with only the most casual of outfits.

    I could see wearing them this winter with leggings and a jersey dress or a casual sweater dress for a change of pace, but only for running around and doing important errands like getting the pecan sap off my car.

    And, remember, Uggs come in lots of different styles. If the classic Ugg isn’t for you, then you might want to try another style.

    2. Several people have asked: “What should I wear to my 10 year or 20 year class reunion?”

    The thing about reunions is that the appropriate dress is going to vary depending on all the different activities. Some people have a football game on Friday night and then dinner on Saturday, while other people have a mixer-type function on Friday and a more formal event on Saturday.

    All I know is that I’m slightly bitter that my twenty year reunion wasn’t this fall instead of in the dead heat of August. My hair would have held up a lot better and I wouldn’t have had to drink eight pitchers of ice water throughout the evening just to stay hydrated. Not to mention that I adore a high school football game and all the free drama that can be found observing teenagers in their natural habitat.

    Anyway, let’s break it down (yo) into categories according to dress code.

    For a casual event I would go with a great pair of jeans and a cute top or loose cardigan. You could also go with a fun jacket if it’s a little cooler outside. That’s the beauty of the FALL reunion as opposed to the I-have-never-been-hotter-and-I-don’t-mean-that-in-a-good-way summer reunion.

    If you’re event is more of a mixer thing but still leans towards the casual side, then you could still do jeans but dress up your look with some cool jewelry.

    Another option would be a pair of velvet jeans or nice pants paired with a dressy top like this one.

    Or you could go with a tunic/dress with leggings/tights and boots. Maybe something like this which is darling.

    Last but not least is the dressy dinner event. Part of my reunion included the Saturday night dinner at the Elegante Hotel in Beaumont, Texas and you should know that there is an invisible accent mark over that last “e” in Elegante so you pronounce it El-e-gan-tay which makes it much classier than if it were just the Elegant hotel with no “e” on the end. Never mind the fact that part of the roof of the Elegante was missing and that it used to be the Hilton.

    The dressy event is a little easier because you can assume that most women will be wearing a dress. I would stick with a cocktail-type dress because it’s a safe bet that you won’t be the most casual one there nor the dressiest one. Something along the lines of one of these dresses would be perfect.

    Hope everyone has a great time reunion-ing. P’s twentieth reunion is in two weeks but he has no desire to go. He’s really sentimental like that.

    That’s all for today because did I mention how busy I was fixing my car and trying on boyfriend jeans? I need to be rested and refreshed so I can go buy ten pairs of yoga pants bright and early. FOR $2.50 A PAIR. I feel the winter of the never-ending yoga pant coming on.

    Y’all have a great Friday.

  • On an entirely different note

    Last week I mentioned I went shopping with my friend, Steph. While we were out and about we happened to wander into Gap and both decided to try on the boyfriend jeans just for kicks.

    To our surprise, we both really liked them. Granted, part of the love might have had something to do with the fact that we were both able to wear a size smaller than we normally wear, but they were also pretty dang cute. Neither of us actually ended up buying them, but I saw Steph last night and she told me she bought a different pair of boyfriend jeans that she found at Nordstrom.

    I’m still on the fence about them. They’re very comfortable (but so are purple sweatpants and that doesn’t mean they’re right), however, they may require things like a belt and a shirt that actually tucks in and I’m not sure I’m ready for the commitment.

    Is it just me or are these kind of cute minus those shoes which I wouldn’t wear with them because I’m not twenty-five and am also not looking to twist my ankle while volunteering in the classroom at Caroline’s school?

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    And while we’re on the subject of shoes I wouldn’t wear, check out P’s new snake boots that he bought last weekend.

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    I think the embossed leather snake baring his fangs on the side really gives them that extra something special.

  • The rainbow connection

    The mighty Rainbows had their second game of the season on Saturday, but since I missed the first game it was my first official coaching experience. And I’m playing fast and loose with the words “official” and “coaching”.

    The game was at 9:15 a.m. so I told P to wake me up around 8:00. Caroline had spent the night at Mimi and Bops’ house and I figured an 8:00 wake up call would give me all the time I’d need to map out our game plan and plot our team strategy or at least enough time to eat a bowl of yogurt with granola and berries because the yogurt and I have reunited and it feels so good.

    While I ate my yogurt and checked email, I asked P, “Is there someplace to sit or do I need to bring a chair or a blanket?”

    He looked at me for a minute and said, “There are bleachers, but it doesn’t matter because you won’t be sitting. You’re a coach, remember?”

    “Of course I remember. I was just asking for Mimi and Bops.”

    Also, I totally forgot that I was a coach. And that coaching requires you to stand on the sidelines and, um, coach people.

    In my defense, we didn’t have practice last week because of all the rain so it’s totally understandable that it slipped my mind that I’d volunteered for P and I to co-coach the team. I feel like Michael Scott, “I was promoted to co-coach. We will be co-coaches together.”

    I went into the bedroom to get dressed and lamented to P that I didn’t have any Nike shorts trimmed in royal blue with a matching royal blue t-shirt because I wanted to look coach-like and wear our team colors in the hopes that the right outfit would totally take away from the fact that I had no idea what I was doing. It’s a strategy that has worked well for me throughout much of my life. Especially from 1994-1996.

    Without that black double-breasted suit jacket from Harold’s paired with a snappy houndstooth skirt and sensible pumps, I wouldn’t have convinced nearly as many people that a 22-year-old recent college graduate (with a degree in Speech Communications and a D in Personal Finance) knew exactly which mutual funds were the best and they should ABSOLUTELY let me help them invest their retirement money.

    P said I was more than welcome to dress in team colors, but that I should know I’d be the only coach out there who did so. He might have also alluded that he might decide to ignore me if I did, but I may have blown that out of proportion. Not that I ever blow things out of proportion.

    We arrived at the fields about thirty minutes early which allowed us plenty of time to get completely overheated before the game ever began. Apparently the sun didn’t get the memo that it’s the end of September and time to turn it down a notch. We get it, you’re the sun and you’re very bright and hot.

    Caroline showed up with Mimi and Bops. She had her shirt tucked into her shorts (I’m still on the fence about the shirt tucked in versus worn out) and had her royal blue socks pulled up past her knees to somewhere around mid-thigh. I felt like I was about to have a heat stroke just looking at her with those wool socks covering her entire leg. But she insisted that’s how she wanted to wear them and insinuated that what I don’t know about being a cool soccer player is enough to fill a book. Which, granted, is true.

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    The other team showed up and I began to get a little concerned because they looked bigger than our girls. Then I met their coach and she was wearing track pants with a stripe down the side. I don’t know if anything is more legitimate than a coach wearing track pants. Not to mention that her team seemed to have several assistant coaches also wearing track pants and they all seemed to know a lot of soccer-type chants. All we had in our arsenal was “GO RAINBOWS!” and no track pants.

    Also, I don’t think she had a child on the team. Which means she coaches soccer for fun or because she enjoys destroying six-year-olds. In her free time.

    We had an umpire with all the enthusiasm of a corpse who didn’t really seem to understand that these were six- year-old girls and not professional soccer players who knew what he meant when he grunted “Corner kick” at them when the ball went out of bounds. And it started to get on my nerves just a little bit when the other team scored their tenth goal on us and their coach still insisted on jumping up and down and screaming every time it happened. I wanted to politely remind her that they are six and we don’t even play with goalies, but I was waiting to see if she was going to rip off her t-shirt and show us her sports bra at the end of the game.

    Our girls gave it their best effort even though they all knew enough to know we were getting beat. BADLY. All these people can say what they want about everyone being a winner, but kids know when they’re losing. There’s no sense in lying to them about it. At halftime, P just told them to give it their best shot, play as hard as they could and leave their guts on the field. I passed out grapes and Gatorade and refrained from making any speeches about guts. But that’s why we’re a good match.

    They played a lot better the second half and, in a stunning turn of events, Caroline even (accidentally) took a ball to the head. I was totally prepared for the meltdown I knew was about to happen but she just kept on running down the field like a mighty Rainbow should.

    All in all, I have to say I’m a fan of soccer. I love that the girls love it. I love that it caused Caroline to burn energy to the point that she laid on our couch for two hours after she got home. I love that one of the moms brought delicious snacks for the whole team. Most of all, I loved seeing Caroline run down the field and score a goal.

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    This coming Saturday I’ll be on my own. P has a prior commitment so I’ll be coaching solo.

    And you better believe I’ll be wearing my track pants.

  • Habla kazoo?

    Caroline and I were in the car yesterday and I could hear her in the back seat saying, “Arriba! Arriba!” while intermittently playing the kazoo that she acquired from the prize box at Sunday School. Clearly the Sunday School teachers are on a mission from God to improve my patience because a kazoo? Seriously? Why not just take my last nerve out by hand and rip it to shreds?

    But the important thing is that Caroline loves the kazoo and feels she has found her musical calling. I have to admit she seems to possess some natural kazoo talent given the fact that she was able to perform a mildly off-key version of The Star Spangled Banner (or The Dawnzer Song as she refers to it) with just fifteen minutes of practice.

    Fifteen minutes that seemed like forty-five.

    Anyway, she kept saying, “Arriba! Arriba!” and then asked, “Mama? What is the word ‘Arriba’? I just made it up!”

    “Well, baby, it’s actually a Spanish word.”

    “Wow! I’m even smarter than I thought! I just made up a Spanish word!”

    Sure you did.

    And, by the way, that kazoo music is just lovely.

  • Edition 67: Fashion Friday

    I went to Target yesterday because we needed a new non-stick skillet, a birthday present for a party on Saturday and an extra pair of soccer socks for Caroline. In addition to these must-have items, I also ended up with a pair of sparkly silver shoes in a girls’ size 13 and some yoga pants in a womens’ size none of your business. It took all the self-restraint I could muster to not purchase these really pretty bubble glass goblets, but then I remembered that we eat off paper plates almost every night of the week and don’t really need any more elegant glassware that we don’t use.

    Then I made my way over to the clothing section and saw these:

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    Somewhere Grimace is walking around without pants.

    These are sweatpants with elastic at the ankles. For sale. In a store.

    I was ready, in the spirit of George Costanza, to declare it the winter of Melanie where I would do nothing but eat cheese and grow a mustache, except without the growing a mustache part because I have standards. Not very high standards as evidenced by the faded black yoga pants that I wore to drop Caroline off at school yesterday, but standards nonetheless.

    I also saw some lace leggings and a pair of mustard yellow ballet flats. Then the cashier asked for my I.D. when I tried to purchase a bottle of wine (every serious wine connoisseur knows Target has the best selection when you’re willing to spend $5.00 and possibly even $6.00) and I got in the car to head home and A-HA was on the radio singing “Take On Me” and I seriously wondered if I was being punked and somehow ended up back in 1988. But without the perm and the acid-washed denim jacket. And possibly the fake I.D.

    Not that I was ever party to any sort of shenanigans involving fake identification in 1988. I just heard about it from some friends.

    Anyway, I’ve never understood when women talk about how they can’t repeat a trend they wore when they were in middle school, but this fall I’ve realized it’s because I’ve never really lived it. All I know is that a 38-year-old woman has no business wearing neon plaid and lace leggings. NO BUSINESS. I’ve officially crossed over to the other side.

    (I originally accidentally typed “crossed over to the other size” which is also true but more painful to admit)

    Now for questions:

    1. Erica asks: “Can you recommend some boots that look like Fryes but cost way way less? “

    There was many a year that I searched for a pair of Frye boots that cost way less and I was totally and completely unsuccessful in my quest.

    However, this year is the year of the boot. There are fabulous boots everywhere, but I’ve discovered that you need to look online and not just in stores. Most stores are woefully lacking a decent boot selection.

    Here are a few great pairs of boots that look similar to various styles of Frye boots, but without the price tag.

    2. Kelli asks: ” I loved the Gap essentials jeans and now they are discontinued. Do you (or any of your readers) have any ideas of a similar fit jean?”

    All I know about jeans is you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince.

    In other words, the best way to find a pair of jeans is to devote an afternoon to your quest for denim perfection and bring a friend who’s not afraid to be honest.

    I’ve heard good things about Gap’s Long and Lean jeans and that you don’t have to be long nor lean to look good in them. It might be a good place to start.

    Do y’all have any suggestions?

    3. Priscilla asks: “I will be attending two weddings in early October. I would like to try something strapless or maybe one-shouldered number. What would be fall appropriate?”

    The one-shouldered look is a big trend right now, even though I am struggling because all of a sudden I feel like shoulder is a funny word. Shoulder. Think about it for a minute.

    Strapless or one-shouldered (I think it may be the source of a new word phobia for me, kind of like “ointment”) dresses are absolutely appropriate for fall as long as they are in a color palette that’s not too summery and you remember to carry a light wrap in case there’s a chill in the air.

    Nena would refer to this as a “stole”. She was just sick when Gulley wore a strapless dress on an 80 degree October night last year without a stole.

    Here are a few beautiful dresses that would work depending on how formal or casual your events happen to be.

    I also love something like this even though it is neither one-shouldered nor strapless.

    That’s all the questions for today, but I do have a few other fashion-related things I want to share. I tried on this black cowl-neck sweater dress at Old Navy the other day and was surprised that it was actually made fairly well. It would look great with tights and boots. I also thought these drawstring waist dresses were cute and would be the perfect piece to wear with leggings and a denim jacket. And Gap has their boyfriend sweaters on sale which are the perfect casual piece to pair with jeans and a scarf.

    One final thing. (I know, what else could I possibly have to say?) I almost never do stuff like this, but one of my friends is a jewelry designer. She entered one of her designs as part of a contest through Kendra Scott Designs and is now one of the top three finalists nationwide. If her design is chosen then it will be worn on the red carpet at the People’s Choice Awards in Los Angeles and become a permanent part of the Kendra Scott collection. You can click on this link to go see the three finalists. She designed the one with the turquoise, orange and black detail. If you agree with me on its total and absolute super-coolness, you can vote for her design.

    Stay classy.

    And y’all have a great Friday.

  • Cheaper by the dozen or ten pound case

    I cannot tell you how relieved I am that at least 97% of you didn’t know that you were supposed to run bleach through your washing machine. My deep laundry insecurities made me feel like I was the only one and that everyone might laugh and point at me in the comments. For the sake of information and knowledge, I feel like I need to let y’all know that Hugo said to just dump the cup of bleach directly in the tub of the washer and not in the soap dispenser, otherwise you may end up with some residual bleach in the dispenser that could wreak havoc and destruction on your next load of laundry causing untold sorrow.

    In a delightful turn of events it has been cold and rainy here for the last two days. Well, at least it’s been Texas cold which means that the thermometer has hovered around a chilly 68 degrees. I know some of you Northerners may call that summer, but it’s been enough to make me break out my flannel pajama bottoms and the ingredients to make a pot of chili. P is super excited because he waits all year for the moment he gets to see me walk around the house in my blue fuzzy robe with socks pulled up to my knees. I think it goes without saying that it’s my most attractive look.

    Due to the rain, P was home most of the afternoon yesterday and when I walked in the door from picking Caroline up from school I caught him looking at something on the internet, a ten pound case of dark chocolate covered cherries. He tried to tell me that he wasn’t about to order them, but given his love of ordering things in bulk I’m not sure I believe him. He is a firm believer that if one is good, then sixty-five are better.

    I believe that philosophy applies to certain things like shoes or tubes of lipstick in various shades, but not to chocolate-covered cherries. Personally, I don’t need fruit messing up my chocolate.

    But it made me think about buying things in bulk and wonder if I’m missing out because I’m just not a fan of the bulk purchase. Obviously I am in the minority or Sam’s and Costco would cease to exist. The only things I buy in bulk are paper towels, toilet paper, and Gummie LifeSavers. In other words, the essentials.

    So my question is what do you buy in bulk and why is it better to buy it that way? I may need to rethink my philosophy. I mean it was just two days ago that I didn’t know to put bleach in the washing machine. Clearly, I have a lot to learn.

    But I know enough to know that a family of three doesn’t need ten pounds of chocolate-covered cherries.