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Purse Envy

“No matter how neat a woman looks, a sloppy, overfilled purse is a dead giveaway.” Helen Valentine & Alice Thompson, Better Than Beauty

I have always lived out of my purse.  Working long hours, sometimes two jobs in one day, I had to make sure I had everything on me–bus fare, discman/CD, my uniform(s), my notebook, pens, lunch–because if I didn’t, I was out of luck.  I carried big, ugly bags, usually black, basic, utilitarian, covered in pins and patches.  I did have one sweet one that I made out a tie and this great houndstooth fabric, but it didn’t hold much, so it didn’t get used very often.  A nice handbag was an expense I couldn’t afford and a hassle I didn’t need.  I was a modern, liberated woman, I didn’t need no stinkin’ handbag!

About a year ago I decided that, damn, it, I was modern, liberated and worthy of a big bright beautiful statement purse.  I went straight to TJ Maxx and bought a cute little fuchsia Betsey Johnson hobo bag for $24.  And I instantly felt more confident, like a woman instead of a college bimbo.  And I could still fit what I needed in there–my cell phone, iPod, a notebook, a pen, some Dr. Pepper lip gloss, a wallet.  (I also have a houndstooth Betsey bag that Ian got me for Christmas, and a big bold leopard print Betsey tote that I use when I travel.  First time in my life I’ve had more than one purse in rotation!)

But even that’s too much stuff sometimes! 

I have always envied my friend Lexa for a variety of reasons–one, she is pretty and blonde and wildly successful and secondly, she always looks so polished and put together, with this wonderful elegance that only NYC women have.  And the last time I saw her, she was carrying a slim envelope clutch purse, and I was so, so jealous.  I keep meaning to make one, but I suffer terribly from ProCraftination, the symptoms of which are me buying craft supplies and then never actually doing anything with them.

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Lot of Spaceballs References This Week . . ..

But I did keep that style tip in mind when I went out for brunch with Rachel, Nina and Tiffany.  I took only what I needed to survive–a twenty, my license in case I wanted a Belini, my fan and my Moxie lip gloss, all of which fit neatly into a #10 envelope-sized red leather clutch purse Ian’s mom brought me back from Costa Rica.

How classy a girl looks with a clutch!  It draws attention to her lovely hands, makes her look charming and delicate, a bit mysterious.  What could she possibly have in that little thing?

In an age where we’re expected to be tied to our smartphones, which have our entire library/record collection/work/social lives stored on them so that at any moment you can be reading a work email while talking to your mother and making arrangements for the babysitter, to go out into the world free of all those things, trusting and living life as it was happening (brunch was lovely!) was a completely liberating experience!

 

Uhhh…..

“A sixteen month old baby girl is the prototype of sexiness.  Watch her play peekaboo, wiggle her lovely fanny or turn to give you a last, melting look before wriggling off to bed.”  Helen Gurley Brown, Sex and the Single Girl.

The less said about this, the better.

 

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

A baseball game.  A date that isn’t too involved, one you can carry through comfortablyWhat To Do On a Date (1951)

Pictured: Victory. Also, Doreen

Pictured: Victory. Also, Doreen

I know literally three things about baseball: 1) It’s played with a ball, 2) There are bases involved and 3) That if you lose, you get ice cream and if you win, you get Pizza Hut.  This vast knowledge was culled from three years of pee-wee softball where my coach, Doreen, would sit down on a splitering, lead-painted bench, fire up an unfiltered Kool, gather us girls around and, in between inhales which she kindly directed right into our eight-year-old faces, tell us to get out there and play without ever actually, you know, teaching us how to play.  Needless to say,  Becker’s softball team never saw the inside of a Pizza Hut.

But apparently, a ball game is a fun date, and Mike has been anxious to see the Oneonta Outlaws play, so we did.  Mike is and always has been one of my favorite boy friends because he, having known me for nearly a decade, has figured out (more or less) how to treat me, like complimenting my skull earrings and paying for things.  I remembered too late that he liked the blue eyeliner I was wearing on our last date to the drive-in, or else I would have worn it for him.

Currently NY is experience temperatures not unlike the inside of a slow cooker.  It’s hot, it’s damp and it’s sunny, but the sunscreen merely lays on top of your skin like an extra layer, only unlike your cotton sundress or tee-shirt, you can’t sweat through it.  Miserable conditions for a ballgame, but we’d been trying to schedule this for three weeks now and we weren’t going to let nuclear sunlight drive us away from our date.

Mike knows tons and tons and tons about baseball.  He’s a Yankees fan, and the only non-jerk male Yankees fan I know, so throughout the game, he would explain stats and tell me about awesome plays he saw on YouTube.  We sat in the shaded deck and then, later, in one of the empty box seats to watch the Outlaws completely blow a game against the not-much-better Syracuse Salt Cats in the first game of their double-header in what was mostly an ongoing display of Beckers-esq incompetence.  (They won the second game, but I’m not sure what that does for the ice cream/pizza roster).

What was nice about the game was the relaxed atmosphere.  We could have drinks and chit-chat and keep an eye on the game and cheer when one of our players did something good, but it lacked the intensity of professional sports, where you’re crowded in with superfans screaming in your ears.  Plus, I also got to follow Arlene Dahl’s advice about drawing out his ideas, which I think Mike enjoyed.  And making sure your partner enjoys the date is, according to the short, one of the fundamentals of dating!

So maybe next time we’ll go to a weenie roast . . . or fix up a scavenger sale!

Your Biggest Fan

“The destinies of nations have been altered . . . by the flutter of a fan.  Why not revive these delightful customs of the past to stimulate romance?” Arlene Dahl, Always Ask a Man

"I'd like to know you better"

“I’d like to know you better”

I’ve always loved the image of Southern women gently fanning themselves in a warmly-lit church or on a porch, so I dug out a lovely bamboo fan Ian gave me a few years ago, and with the weather as hot as it has been, I’ve really been using it!  At work, it gave me something to fiddle with while I thought through a difficult article or pay layout, a quiet pause in the day to contemplate.

Arlene has a wonderful diagram of ways a fan can be used to

"I love you"

“I love you”

communicate.  I tried some of these out on a certain older bachelor I know, but if he noticed, he didn’t say anything.  But either way, it kept me cool!

"I'll keep our secret"

“I’ll keep our secret”

Slinky Thing

“When we were first dating, he said to me, “Get into something slinky black.  We’re going over to meet my friends Jackie and Ernest.”  Naturally I wanted Jackie and Ernest to like me, so I got right into something slinky and black.  Well, everybody was out by the pool in wet swimsuits and faded denims and there I was–Vampira at high noon.”  Helen Gurley Brown, Sex and the Single Girl

ImageIan and I haven’t been out to a nice dinner in awhile, and we had a few things to celebrate under the auspice of our 7 1/2 year anniversary.  I also haven’t gotten dressed up since New Years, and one the things this project has really gotten me back into is LOOKING FINE.  I was just going to wear my LBD, but one accessory lead to another, and soon I was wearing a hat, dark lipstick, a scarf and a pair of my grandma’s white gloves.  Ian was wearing shorts and a black button down.  He looked at me, lets out a sigh and went back upstairs.  I was overdressed, and it was cramping his style.

Like HGB illustrates, being overdressed next to your mate can make all parties uncomfortable.  Ian’s reasoning for not wanting to get dressed up was that it was hot and muggy, and he’d be miserable, ruining the whole evening.  And I understood that.  He apologized for groaning at my outfit, put on black pants and a black shirt, I took off the gloves and we went to Jay’s Place (our favorite) for a lovely time.  And it was air conditioned, so he was comfortable even in long pants.

Maybe we were a little overdressed for the occasion, but we didn’t care.  I like to think it added an air of mystery to us, so that other diners wondered what fancy party we’d just come from .  . .

 

Throwing Shade (Take 2)

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Too cute!

I once again tried taking my parasol out for a few days, and this time, was more careful about it.  I finally figured out that the parasol works best when you won’t be outside for long enough bouts of time to warrant slathering on the sunscreen, but will be outside frequently (shopping, for instance) and for long periods of time (lots of shopping!)  Otherwise, such as at a cafe or while I’m trying to interview someone, it does become a bit unwieldy.

The dress, by the way, is #72 in Generation T, “Flapper Frenzy.”  I made it to wear at my presentation on Buckaroo Banzai at my MFA program and color-wise, it’s modeled after the one Penny Priddy wears in the nightclub scene.  What can I say?  I’m a glam geek! (The anime eyes help)

The White Glove Treatment

My grandma, Cora, left me all her beautiful white gloves, which I loved to play dress up in when I was a little girl.  I’ve never quite known how to wear them without looking like Minnie Mouse.

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These string ones, however, were given to me by Ian’s mother, and wearing them out today, even the Mayor remarked, as he shook my hand, “You’re really giving us the white glove treatment!”

Hat Trick #4, #5, #6

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Thursday!

The turban is another wonderful, unexpected disguise for limp hair.  I bought this little number n Austin, TX while visiting our friend Sterling.  He was nice enough to take me to all the coolest thrift stores, and I found this piece on the last day of our trip.

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Friday!

The little red flower was a great impulse purchase from Hot Topic a few months back, and really adds a certain flair to an outfit, especially when it’s TOO HOT to wear a big heavy hat.  

 

The sunhat was the hardest to work around because it’s just so dramatic.  Very Lydia Dietz.  But my assignment that morning called for sneakers, so despite my best intentions, I didn’t feel as put-together as I might have otherwise.  It did, however, keep the sun off my face, a plus, plus a man asked if he could take a picture to show his wife, also a hat fiend.

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Saturday

The lesson learned is that, yes, hats are awesome and should be worn as often as possible with as many outfits as you can create.  They elevate you to a level of style no other woman in the room can possible compete with.  Ian loved each and every one I brought out, lots of men compliment them and they really do serve as a unique conversation starter.  Have hats for all of them!

I’ll revisit this stunt again, when it gets colder…get out my wool cloches and derbies!