What’s the Point of the 5th Pocket?

All of my jeans, except my denim leggings, are what they call “5-Pocket”. You know, two front pockets, two back pockets, and then a tiny little “bonus” pocket inside one of the front pockets. Whose idea was this, and more importantly, why? This must be a major selling point, because there is hardly a pair of denim out there that doesn’t boast this feature.
So I thought I’d come up with some ways to put that little pocket to use. Like, for example:

1. When you’re standing around waiting for the bus in your 5-pocket jeans, look cool by sticking a finger or two in that little pocket. Now strike a pose, and don an “I like my fifth pocket and I don’t care who knows it!” attitude.
2. Carry around little tiny items that would get lost in your other four, larger pockets. Like earring backs, ticket stubs, cat treats, or lipstick. OK, never mind about the lipstick, that will hurt when you sit down.
3. To keep yourself smelling nice, put some loose potpourri in it. That will last a lot longer than any perfume.
4. When you’re at some event where you have to wear an annoying clip-on pass, don’t clip it onto your shirt, handbag, or coat. Be a rebel and clip it into that fifth pocket where it will be secure and out of your way.
5. Finally, this fifth pocket is the perfect place to keep cash if you’re walking in a dangerous neighborhood, ATM pin numbers, or any other secret information you need. No one EVER checks the fifth pocket!

So, my friends, there are some ways to get the most out of that little front pocket. May they serve you well.

WWWF Grudge Match: Nordstrom vs. Banana Republic vs. Ann Taylor

Ah, remember the days on the internet of WWWF Grudge Match? I miss those humorous head-to-head imaginary smackdowns. Time to resurrect them, with a fashion twist. Introducing not WWD, not WWW, but the WWWF (World Wide War of Fashion) Grudge Match! Today's combantants:

Nordstrom vs. Banana Republic vs. Ann Taylor!

THE SETTING:  St. Louis in early September. A sunny day off, and the chill of autumn wind provides perfect shopping weather. A solitary bargain-hunting fashionista sets out in need of a new pair of black pants for Fall. Her search leads her to three Workwear Giants: Nordstrom, Banana Republic, and Ann Taylor.

Which one will have the best pair of lined black pants for Fall?  

THE COMMENTARY: First up is Ann Taylor. It’s pretty empty in there, but there is lots of beautiful clothing, including a large selection of work pants. I stop at their color-blocked scarves, which I had admired on the internet. What are these, scarves for giants? My duvet cover is smaller than these. I make a mental note to un-bookmark them.

I begin my rounds, approaching each pair of black pants I see, turning up the cuff to see if there is a lining. The first four pairs or so, I strike out. They are beautiful pants, and if I wasn’t so intent on that lining, I would have tried some on. Then, the sweet rush of success: I find lined pants!

That rush gets shut down when I see the price tag. $168. I am a professional, but I’m not a lawyer, I don’t speak publicly, and I don’t currently travel for my job. The price and quality are unnecessary. Suffice to say, I walked quickly out of Ann Taylor empty-handed.

On to Nordstrom. Pants, pants, pants. I walk all over the large store looking for some that have a lining. They’re all spread out, so when a sales associate approaches me, I simply ask her, are there any lined black pants here?

Her reply: “Oh, I haven’t seen any lined pants here in the past two years.” What!?! She tries to sell me on a pair of unlined, not-black, lightweight wool pants, pointing out their quality and construction. I tell her they need to be lined to prohibit them sticking to the knee-high trouser socks I usually wear underneath. (I don’t tell her that the lining also prevents static cling, panty lines, and provides a layer of warmth.) I say, “Ann Taylor has some, but they’re like $160.” Her reply: “Well if we carried them, they’d be around $200.”

OK then. Goodbye.

On to Banana Republic. It wasn’t on my list of stores to visit, but I was desparate. Full disclosure: I don’t like Banana Republic. There was a time in my life when I shopped there regularly, but their boring clothes, vanity sizing, and association with Gap (shudder) turned me off. I haven’t purchased anything from them in years.

As I walked in, the store greeter told me everything in the store was 30% off. I look at some pants. They are all lined. The navy ones, the grey pinstripes, and --look!-- black pants, all lined, in a couple of different cuts. I look at the pricetag: $98. Normally more than I want to pay, but if they’re 30% off, very doable.

I tried on the Martin, which has a trouser cut, and the Logan, which has a straight leg. They both have belt loops and hit below my navel. I tried them on with the black shoes I’d brought with me, and swooshed happily around the dressing room. The straight legged Logans were perfect. Sold.

THE WINNER: Banana Republic 

Though I had visions of Nordstrom coming out on top, since I bought a nice pair of summer black pants there last year, I was very disappointed. (On a side note, the blue Franco Sarto sandals I’ve been waiting to go on sale there, haven’t. More disappointment.)

The Workwear Giant Ann Taylor needs to offer a mid-priced lined black pant for us non-lawyers. They’ve got a pretty website and great branding, but at the end of the day, I care about the product. Banana Republic, the longshot in this race, wins by a landslide!

If you liked this post, please also see my first WWWF Grudge Match: TJ Maxx vs. Nordstrom Rack

That's How I Roll

cream corduroy jacket from Guess, pants from LOFT, t-shirt from Ann Taylor, onyx heart necklace from Tiffany & Co., Eric Michael espadrilles, Zoya Gwin nail polish

The minute I say something is not in style, it becomes stylish. Take for example the rolled pant. Last year, my shortie sister asked me if she should roll her too-long pants or get them hemmed. I emphatically told her that the only rolled pants around were boyfriend jeans, and that rolled pants were not stylish, and that she should get them hemmed. Within a week I started seeing rolled pants all over the place! And here I am eating my words by rolling these work pants.

OK, so here is an experiment. Paisley prints are not in style. GO!

Enough With the Stripes Already!

Okay, I get it. Stripes are so in right now. I have purchased a striped top and a striped wrap cardigan within the past two years. I also have a new dress with a striped bodice. And I love them. But now all I see are stripes, stripes, stripes.

For example, a search for “stripes” on Shopbop yields 457 items right now, spanning tops, bathing suits, dresses, and shorts. The same search on Nordstroms is 601 items. Asos? 650. There are 21 striped sweaters at J. Crew alone. Heavens to murgatroyd. It’s getting a little crazy.

In my dream world, I would like to see a wider selection of patterns, like low-contrast small prints, watercolor effects, or even digital pixels. I also can’t get enough colorblocking.

So my friends, I hope the stripeyness of fashion calms down soon. If not, when I continue to wear my striped dress over the years, it will be “so 2011.”

Not America's Next Top Model

black blazer by Sandra Angelozzi, ruffle purple shirt from Nordstrom's, military skirt from Anthropologie, Circa Joan & David riding boots

UGH. If Tyra saw this, she would be so disappointed. There's no tension in the face, no movement in the body, and those knees? I'd be going straight home. Good thing I'm already home. I can just turn on the television and be awed by the real, hard-working models who have to pose with jaguar cubs, walk down runways on fire, and have to be judged by Andrew Leon Talley and Rachael Zoe. I salute all the models who make posing look easy. You go, girls!

Top 7 Household Items That Will Wreck Your Manicure

Long after your manicure dries, there are items that lie in wait around your home. Their goal, by design, is to chip or dent your nails, no matter how many coats you have so carefully applied. But I will expose them, so that maybe you can avoid these common predators! May I present to you, in no particular order, the Items That Will Wreck Your Manicure.

Pour Spout on Dishwasher Detergent.
This sharp, steel monstrosity is guaranteed to send the lacquer chips flying. This also goes for the container of Morton Salt in my kitchen. Couldn’t it have been designed to be opened via a nice, curved, plastic pulltab?

Stickers.
New shoes, new dishes, and salad dressing/ketchup bottles come with stickers you have to scrape off. We have Goo-Gone but I’m afraid it, too, would wreck my nails.

Bottle of Conditioner.
See this snap-top bottle? It’s practically designed to be opened with your nails. It’s really difficult to open with the fleshy part of your thumb. The bummer is, once you chip a nail with this, water will get under your chip, if you’re in the shower. It’s a manicure-breaker.

Pant Buttons.
It’s not the unbuttoning that can dent and smush your nails. It’s the rebuttoning. Some days I wish my jeans would snap closed.

Spice Jars.
I should wait for a day when my nails are unpainted, then go through all my spice jars and remove the plastic thingy with the holes for “sprinking”. I only use measuring spoons, and to do that, you need to remove the plastic thingy with your fingernails. Knives are too thick to fit in the crevice, and if you use a knife to try to pry the plastic thingy off, you end up flinging spice all over the kitchen. At least that’s what happens to me.

Lobster-Claw Clasps.
A day I paint my nails is a day when I fear wearing a necklace. If the initial opening of the clasp (and holding it open with my fingernail) doesn’t wreck my manicure, then the fiddling around behind my neck, blindly trying to hook it on the other end, will.

Pop Cans.
I drink a lot of Coke. From cans. That pop-top requires you to slide your fingers under it and lift. I can’t tell you how many times this has dented or chipped my nails!

These items are the enemy of the well-polished woman. Are there items around your house that ruin your manicure, my friends? Please tell us in the comments!
lobster clasp photo from alibaba.com

RIP = R.I.P.

This is a tribute to my Joe’s Jeans, the Rocker cut. The Joe’s had a full, long life of six years.

I remember the first time I tried these amazing jeans on. Sure, they were too long, but they could be hemmed. The Miles wash was a faded blue, the back pockets were perfect, the slight flare made my lower bod look, well, like a rock star’s. I fell in love, took these Joe’s home, and never regretted it.

The Joe’s were like a best friend to me. They could always be counted on to make me look good, especially from behind. The slightly stretchy denim allowed me to look my best, even if I gained a pound or two. They never became saggy, always keeping their shape. That’s probably what I’ll miss most about the Joe’s: the sense of confidence, the chic-ness that happens when you are secure in your jeans.

The Joe’s got along with everybody: t-shirts, blazers, sweaters, flats, and low boots. Their coloring was perfectly compatible with the rest of my wardrobe. I loved the Joe’s so much that I went on to bring home a few of their siblings, the Muse, the Provocateur, the Cigarette, and the Legging.

I had these Joe’s longer than I’ve known my husband, and before my sister’s first child was born. All the memories I have shared with him, out on the streets of downtown Chicago, will forever be cherished and remembered. Joe’s Rocker will live on in my heart.

And now, please, a moment of silence for the dearly departed.

I’m Just Not That Into…Trenchcoats

Ah, you trenchcoat. You are on all must-have clothing lists. A veritable classic closet staple, right up there with aviator sunglasses and little black dresses.

I know your kind. Double-breasted, flap-collared, wide-belted, buckle-sleeved, lightweight and knee-length coat of Burberry fame. You usually front in a cool beige color, a dead wanna-be-camel neutral that is so respectable, a person wants to invite you home over Thanksgiving to meet the parents. But I’m sorry to tell you: I’m just not that into you.

Here’s my trenchcoat hangup, in one word: detective. Perhaps I watched too many episodes of Inspector Gadget in my youth. I cannot look at anyone in a khaki trenchcoat and take them seriously. Oooh, there’s Emma Watson, pretending she’s an international spy who spends a lot of time in the rain! Where’s her fedora? Oh, she’s just leaving a hotel, you say? Mmokay.

Oh, my dear trenchy, it’s not you, it’s me. You’re not my style, so don’t take it personal, because leather motorcycle jackets and fur coats aren’t my style either.

So if you’re looking for me, I’ll be the blonde in the fitted wool coat or the sleek puffer jacket. Or maybe a peacoat. Maybe. It’s on all the must-have clothing lists too.

I’m Just Not That Into…Belts

Oh, belts. You’re such a fashion staple these days. Belts over cardigans, belts over coats, belts over blazers, belts over dresses, belts over long scarves over dresses. You even masquerade as a “ribbon” around the waists of today’s wedding and bridesmaid gowns.

Your impact on the silhouette of the modern woman is undeniable. And you come in so many forms: skinny, extra-wide, double-wrap and obi, just to be more approachable. But I’m sorry to tell you: I’m just not that into you.

I have absolutely no urge to belt my long cardigans. Sometimes when I’m getting dressed, I think to myself, “Hey, you should really put on a belt to draw attention to your waist and visually break up the length of your outfit. You know, that sweater could be mistaken for a nightgown if you don’t cinch it in with a 3-inch wide belt.” So I put one on. Is it supposed to sit higher than my pants, or lower, or at the same level? I walk around my room. The belt moves all over the place and ends up sagging down in the front and goes high in the back. I take it off.

I have about 10 belts. It’s almost impossible for me to wear them, except for on pants/skirt/jeans with belt loops. Without the loops, I am lost. Maybe my problem is that none of my belts are stretchy. Maybe a wide stretchy belt would stay put without loops...or maybe it will slide up as soon as I sit down. Hmm.

So I'm hoping that the belt craze will end soon, so that another 5th grader won't come up to me at church and tell me, "You know, you really need to wear a belt with that."

WWWF Grudge Match: Nordstrom RACK vs. TJMaxx

Ah, remember the days on the internet of WWWF Grudge Match? I miss those humorous head-to-head imaginary smackdowns. Time to resurrect them, with a fashion twist. Introducing not WWD, not WWW, but the WWWF (World Wide War of Fashion) Grudge Match! Our first combantants:

Nordstrom RACK vs. TJMaxx!

THE SETTING: St. Louis. A cloudy Sunday afternoon with autumn in the air provides perfect shopping weather. A solitary bargain-hunting fashionista sets out in need of some fall clothes. Her choices are the just-opened Nordstrom RACK and the tried-and-true TJMaxx, one with the Runway section in the back.

Which one will have the best bargains for autumn clothing?

THE COMMENTARY: First up is Nordstrom RACK. Now I was never impressed with the RACK; even in Chicago it was nothing spectacular. Saks Off 5th had a lot more going for it in terms of deals and brands. But since it has just opened, I decided to check it out. The parking lot was packed, and the first thing I noticed when I walked in was the checkout line had about 60 very patient people waiting in it, and it snaked through the store.

I walked around. My focus was shoes and clothes, but I noticed Neutrogena Healthy Skin face cleanser at the front, on sale for $5.49. This is the face wash I use, and it is usually $7.49. So this is a great deal and a promising start. But I wondered, when did Nordstroms start selling Neutrogena products? Hmmm.

First was the shoe section. Some Sofft, lots of middle-to-low brands and nothing for fall: no fall lace-up booties and no leopard prints. In the clothing area, the only Nordstrom-worthy brands were Vince and Theory, which were still out of my price range. There were denim brands like Joe’s Jeans, but I don’t need any jeans right now. Suffice to say, I walked quickly out of RACK empty-handed.

On to TJMaxx. The parking lot was not full and there was no one waiting in line inside. I head straight for their Runway section, and am greeted with all kinds of garish clothing. But it’s designer garish clothing, so I began flipping through every rack, looking for hidden gems. I got really excited when I see an entire section of Missoni clothing, but, even discounted-to-$199 Missoni pieces are too pricey for me. There was a lot of Theory, Vince, Nanette Leopore, and Rock & Republic. And Escada. I picked up a blue/black houndstooth Nanette Leopore skirt and a neon yellow Theory cardigan, and carried them around with me for a while, but never brought them into the dressing room.

I reluctantly left the Runway section and thought I’d do a quick look around the rest of the store. It was in the dresses section that I finally scored: a beautiful charcoal short-sleeved sweater dress from Calvin Klein, one of my favorite brands. It has a tiered texture and a scoopneck, and the dressing room try-on confirmed it. It was half-off, only $50, which for such a work and church staple, was the fall bargain I was looking for!

THE WINNER: TJMaxx
Though I had visions of Nordstrom RACK surprising me with amazing deals on designers I’d normally not be able to afford (like Tory Burch and Missoni, which a real Nordstroms carries), I was very disappointed. They have a good denim selection, but I won’t be going back there any time soon. Until I run out of face wash.

TJMaxx holds a lot of promise with its Runway section. I will keep going back to see if I can find an investment piece. They also have a lot of designer denim, like Joe’s Jeans, 7 for All Mankind, and Dylan George. TJMaxx wins by a landslide!

Plato's Closet Rejections Support Group

Years ago, when I lived in Chicago, I had a great idea. I was weeding my closet and creating a pile of clothes to donate to Goodwill. The clothes were fashionable and in good condition, but did not fit me anymore. My idea? Take the clothes to Plato's Closet! Which I had heard a lot about on the radio, but had never been to.

Now there wasn't a PC in downtown Chicago where I lived. So I gathered my clothes and trekked waaaay out to the west suburbs and finally found the store. Confident and excited at the prospect of having a little spending money, I gave them the small bag of clothing, and waited around the store, looking at their racks.

When they were done, the girl politely and gently told me that my clothes' style was "too old" and there was only one sweater that they would offer to purchase for a grand total of $3. I was rejected. I was embarrassed. I meekly took the $3 and the rest of my clothes and left as quickly as possible. I told myself I would never try that again!

But history is doomed to repeat itself, and recently here in STL, I again was enticed to try to resell some clothing I had. This time it wasn't at PC, but at Rag-O-Rama. I gathered up some nice clothing and off I went. This time I was completely rejected, they did not want a single item, again claiming that they were "not current styles." What am I wearing? Clothes from the 90s? Grandma clothes?

A good friend of mine, in her 20s, recently went to Plato's Closet, in preparation for a big move. I warned her. I prayed for her. But they rejected all of her clothing, saying they wouldn't accept anything older than 2009 styles.

So I am hereby creating a Plato's Closet Rejections Support Group. Here, we understand. You may share your stories of humiliation and dashed hopes, all with perfect anonymity. Here, you are safe to share your stories. There is no condemnation, only support and love for you and the clothing in your closet. Do not fear. You are not alone.

Calvin Klein Parma

Have you ever been talked into buying a shoe online? Not by your friends or by a glossy magazine, but just because of glowing reviews you read on the internet?

My case study today is the Calvin Klein Parma shoe from 2009. This shoe’s good reviews ran far and wide. Zappos alone had almost 50 reviewers rating them 5 stars and raving about how comfortable they were, how they own them in three colors, how they danced all night in them, etc., etc.

Hmmm. Looks pretty. Amazing range of colors and textiles. Sturdy heel. Platform turns a 4.5 inch heel into 3.5. Doable. $120? No thanks.

But this shoe lingered on in my mind, like so many do. I visited it once in a while.

One day I encountered Parma in person, at DSW. They weren’t in my size, but I tried them on and tripped around the store, feeling like a giant. I took them off and thanked God that I had never bought them. They were way too high, and I couldn’t think of any place I’d wear them. I felt a sense of relief.

I wish the story ended there, my friends. However, eBay is a proven weakness of mine. And I shouldn’t have even been looking. But when I did, and I saw them there, new, in my size, for $40, it was all over. With no competing bids, these non-returnable wonder shoes were on their way to me.

I regretted my purchase soon after they arrived and I put them on. Why did I ignore my DSW test-walk? What was wrong with all those girls who wrote such faithful reviews of praise?

It’s not that these shoes aren’t comfortable. I guess they are. But they are so steep, my foot becomes vertical in them, and since this shoe has no back, I become a deformed bent-kneed AT-AT walker*, clop-clopping around as my heel smacks the insole with every step.

Sadly, this is where my story ends. Parma has never been worn out in public. They look so cool and strappy as they sit in my closet. I have hope that someday, I’ll be able to wear them, like with a Halloween costume or something. Maybe I could go as a Fashion Victim.

*gratuitous Star Wars reference

A Pen, A Dryer, and A Designer

This was the only piece from Alexander McQueen that I’ll ever own. It was from the collection Lee McQueen did for Target, and it was $20, but still, allow me to get a little bit sentimental and repeat: the only piece I’ll ever be able to afford from this famous label.

It was a shirt. Not just any shirt, but a nude, button-up cotton shirt with roll-tab short sleeves. The kind of shirt one can wear to work. The coolest part about it was the hot magenta buttons and accents. In this photo, the last photo taken of it before its demise, I wore nail polish to match it (Zoya Mieko).

90% of the time, I do the laundry at my house. But when my husband has a day off, or gets really zealous on a Saturday, he wakes up early in the morning and does all the laundry. And I really appreciate it, believe me!

However, when I do it, I go through all my husband’s pockets to search for ink pens. You see, he carries a pen on his person at all times, and there have been a few days that he forgets to remove it before throwing a pair of jeans or shorts in the hamper. So I am very careful to do a pen shakedown. My husband is not as careful, and this is the reason a few weeks ago, I opened the dryer on a husband-did-laundry-day to see an ink pen. And blue ink marks. Lots of marks. On most of the clothes and all over the inside of the dryer. And all over my McQueen for Target shirt.

While he can sometimes salvage ink-stained clothes (and if he can’t, he’ll donate them to Goodwill, in case some one else likes wearing ink-stained clothes), I cannot, unless it is very minor. In this case, the case of ink marks on a light-colored shirt, I said goodbye to McQueen and threw it away.

An Architype of High Arches

I have the highest arches this side of St. Louis. My arches are so high, you could drive a large order of golden french fries under them. When I leave a footprint in the sand, the ball and the heel are not connected, if you know what I mean. And I mean that.

No, I’m not talking about my eyebrows, my friends, I'm talking about my feet. And as such, I have to purchase shoes with caution. Shoes that go over the top of my foot may rub, like gladiators and mary janes. Sling-backs or low-sided shoes are my arch-enemy.

My arches don’t cause me any pain. But I do wish I could find a brand of shoes that were designed with a high arch in mind. Maybe the high-arch architect of the shoe world. Can you relate?

The Fashion Blogger’s Lament

Please allow me to vent
And share a lament
RE: my new fashion blog
(All original content!)

So where can I get
A real photographer
To shoot me so dope
Like the other bloggers?

Like Fashion Distraction
Or like Fashion Toast
Or Fashionista Talk
With their fierce outfit posts!

I have some key shoes
Outfits simple and nice
Designer labels paired
With those lesser priced

No, I’m not a model
And I’m not twenty-six
I’m not cutting-edge
Just off to the office

I’m not after dough
I just want to know
The posts that I craft
Aren’t so incognito

Could you follow me please
And visit each day
And comment when you
Have something to say?

Love and humor with style
Is what I’m about
This is Zealous Blonde
And I’m over and out.

The Five Year Lipstick…or, I Now Own Enough Makeup to Last the Rest of my Life

Some people have peer pressure. Some people feel pressure to perform or succeed. I often feel another kind of pressure, so odd that I can’t categorize it. Let me try to explain.

I feel pressure when I walk into a bookstore or library. I suddenly feel overwhelmed with the need to read everything there. If I don’t, I will be missing something important that could change my life!

I feel pressure when I look at my ever-growing collection of cookbooks. I received no less than five cookbooks for my wedding, after owning…zero. And people still keep giving me cookbooks, or if they don’t, they give me magazines with recipes in them. I feel pressure to make almost every single recipe I come across. As a result, I mark each recipe in my cookbook when I use it, so I don’t make the same one twice in my pursuit to cook everything between its covers. It’s a special kind of torture.

I also feel pressure to use every single lipstick, eyeshadow, and nail polish I own, on a regular basis, year after year, until they go bad, melt, or get smashed.

Now I think for the average makeup-wearing girl, this wouldn’t pose a problem. But for some reason, even though I wear a full face of makeup every single day of the year, the only makeup I ever use up is foundation, mascara, powder, and blush. The rest of my makeup lives on. And on. And on.

I’ve never purchased eyeshadow. Almost all the eyeshadows I own were given to me by people who received them in their department store brand’s Bonus Gift bags. They didn’t want them so now I have them. Imagine the pressure I feel to use up these free shimmering pearls of color!

Now here is a lipstick I am really excited about. It’s Lancome’s Rouge Magnetic in Smooch, my fave red lipstick. I think I’ve had it for more than five years. They don’t make it anymore, the line has been discontinued. Do you see how it’s almost used up? The day it’s gone will be a giant victory for me, in about about two years.

Do you see this concealer? I remember when I purchased it because it was the year my sister got married, 2002. I wore it in her wedding. I’m still trying to use it up.

I hope some day I will be able to break free of all these strange anxieties. Especially since I know all this makeup has (had?) expiration dates. Until then, my friends, please, please don’t give me any more lipstick.

The Price of Cuteness

I have an attraction to cute. Think bubble tea, Yoda, short, flippy, blonde hair, and that cute widdle biddy Mini Cooper that I dwribe awound.

One area of this physical world that is a veritable calendar of cuteness is the realm of shoes. There are so many cute shoes out there! And, to my dismay, the internet makes them even more desirable. I mean, how many pairs of shoes have I purchased online that I never would have purchased in a store? My friends, it is many. The net of the final, non-returnable sale has been one I have been caught in often.

All this is to say that I wear those 5-inch stiletto Steve Madden nude patent platforms as often as possible, which isn’t often, but when I insist on doing so, there is a cost; I waver and shuffle slowly along, taking widdle biddy steps, and every eight minutes I have to stop walking because my feet hurt. My husband calls it “the price of cuteness.”

It is a price I am willing to pay. Whether it’s a summer dress that isn’t thick enough to stand up to an air conditioned room, a linen jumpsuit that makes me undress when I go to the restroom, or that itchy sweater that I don’t want to bulk up by wearing a layer underneath, I love dressing cute, whether I’m comfortable or not. Maybe you can relate.

Excuse me, I have to go design a brochure… I think I’ll put a basket of kittens on the cover…

An Open Letter to Kohl’s, or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Husband

Dear Kohls/JCPenney/Sears,

Hi there. My name is Faith. You don’t know me, it’s okay. But I know you. You are a giant nationwide chain store, carrying low-to-mid-priced clothing, as well as home goods, and, like, power tools. You also carry real jewelry, which mystifies me. You are often found in the suburbs. When people walk in, they experience the cool, plastic-tinged scent of hopeful mediocrity. It’s not unlike walking into a Dairy Queen, planning to eat dinner.

I take issue with you, but not because of your existence. Certainly our country needs you, because the very young, the very old, and the very trendy need clothing of short-lived quality.

My issue is that you’ve fooled my not-very-old husband into thinking your clothing is suitable, durable-- and even desirable-- for work, home, and church. Clothing that he will hang on to for a decade.

Your sales are what hook him. Every year, he prepares for your Day after Thanksgiving Sale, looking at newspaper flyers, tearing out coupons, and carefully making a list. Since this is the only day of the year he will shop for clothing for himself, you woo him with promises of ankle-length black $16 jeans with an elastic-inset-waistband that he will continue to wear once they’ve become a kind of blackish-bluish-grey. You know, after they’ve been washed a few times. Yes, you know.

My husband appreciates high quality in almost all things. He insists on purchasing furniture made of real wood, preferably handmade by the Amish. I recently returned a pair of tongs I had purchased to Crate & Barrel because they had plastic ends. To make a salad, he will buy delicious goat cheese and hydroponically-grown Living Lettuce. And he loves your high-end power tools.

But when it comes to clothes, do you know how often he wears his cashmere v-neck sweater my parents got him for Christmas? As often as I remind him of it. His Columbia Cascadian Summit II snow boots with Thermolite insulation I gave him for his birthday? Just when he shovels the driveway.

I guess it’s alright. Maybe it’s not your fault after all. Who else will sell the Dockers dress pants and Levi’s denim shirts that he loves? I mean, at least he’s not purchasing clothes from Wal-Mart. And his honest, humble character, chivalry, and rugged good looks more than compensate for any lack of fashion quality judgment.

But maybe, once in a while, you can stock some Thomas Pink, or at least Calvin Klein, if it’s not too much to ask?

I would really appreciate that.

Sincerely,
Faith J.

The Sinister Recluse!

When I grow up, what I really, really want, is a big house chock-full of brown recluse spiders, with bites that never ever heal, decaying through all the layers of your skin until you’re left with a gaping open wound. Well, my friends, I am living the dream.

I’m not from around here. I’m from Chicago, where there are a lot of spiders, but not of the giant, lurking, lightning-fast, blanket-loving variety. Though I had heard of the horrors of the brown recluse, I had never seen one, and had no idea I was moving to one of their home states two years ago.

Imagine my joy as I started unpacking in the 100+ year old home that I would soon share with my husband. This home had been renovated but not lived in for a while. It wasn’t very long before I starting seeing these big, fast spiders. I had an instinctual fear of them. I remember one day I looked under my bed. There were two of them, looking back at me.

I would call my fiancé. “Sweetie, there are a lot of spiders in this house.”
“Well, it’s an old house, it’s bound to have them.”
“But these spiders don’t have webs. They are just walking around on the floor.”
“Do you want me to take care of them?” It amused him that I was so scared of them: at our wedding, one of his vows was to kill all the spiders we encountered.

We got married and were living in bliss, and whenever I saw one of those spiders, my husband would kill it. We probably saw one a day, sometimes more. I was still afraid, and I started to suspect that they were something on the level of a black widow spider.
So one day, I sprayed Spider-Not on a large one on the stairs. After it twitched its last, I took a glass jar and scooped it up so I could look at it closer. I went to the internet. I almost died. I had identified the mysterious spider. This discovery led to hysterical screaming, a nice big exterminator bill, and me checking the sheets, pillows and covers before climbing into bed every night.

Since then, I have become a kind of brown recluse evangelist. Whenever I meet someone new to this part of the country, I warn them profusely. We are still hunting them in our home, but thankfully no one has been bitten.

So I hope no one who has or will stay overnight with us will be reading this! Don’t worry, we’ve taken care of most of them. Mostly.

Only Because I Love You

engineer's cap by Eugenia Kim for Target, shell and pearl necklace from honeymoon, shoes by Diesel

There are a lot of things in life that I don’t like to do. Job hunting, nighttime grocery shopping, flossing, and scrubbing the bathtub are a few. I mean, life isn’t all cupcakes and kittens. But those things are necessary, and I do them without complaint.

But unnecessary activities, like free-choice, free-will things I do with my discretionary time, that I don’t like to do, are more difficult to endure without some complaining. And one of those things is tent-camping.

Tent-camping. As opposed to cabin-camping, where at least you don’t have to sleep on the ground. And where the cabin is already there and you don’t have to build it, then unbuild it after two days.

Whose idea of a fun getaway is to spend hours preparing, packing and loading the car, then drive to a campground far away, then unpack and set up camp, then unpack, set up, and cook food in an unsanitary, buggy environment? Then a couple of days later, spend hours taking it all down, packing up the car again, driving back home, and cleaning and unpacking everything? It takes a colossal amount of time and effort, and on top of it, you can’t take any good shoes with you because they might get dirty, wet, or eaten.

And for what magical experience? To sit around a campfire in canvas chairs? To put quarters into a shower in some showerhouse built in the 70s? To lie in a clammy sleeping bag listening to wolves howl and praying for sleep? To gaze upon a vast landscape of trees interspersed with other people’s campsites?

So my friends, now that I am married, I am subjected to a yearly camping outing. I do it only because I love my husband. And what does he do only because he loves me? Rescue kittens. I think it’s a pretty fair trade. More about that next week…