Out of Season

Seeing as this blog has turned into somewhat of a gongshow it seems only right to post pictures from when I was mid-Whole30 about, oh, 2 months ago.  WHAT IN THE WORLD? And what's Whole30 you may be asking yourself? A sugarless story that left me 12lbs lighter for another time.

Well I did tell you I lost the camera, right?

With that in mind I bring you sequins in early spring with a side of tossed salad hairdo.  It all started when I spotted a new neighbor. Okay so I haven't actually seen the neighbor, just the neighbor's ride.  And if you're following me on Pinterest or the other various social networking sites then you know this is DREAM RIDE TERRITORY UP IN HERE.

Checking to see if the coast was clear, I sidled up to Exhibit A. 

Which, in my perfect world, would be turquoise and have a surfboard hanging out the back.

And fuzzy seats, sherpa fuzzy seats. And a rainbow rug. I'll stop with the clichés now.

Another neighbor down the street emerged from his garage with a WTF are you doing

in front of that beater in your shiny sweater young lady?

And no my teeth are not yellow we just don't know how to work the camera.

Word.

Aaaaaand then I almost met the owner of this thing before scurrying off into our pal's garage.

Beach living, folks. Here you have it.

What Goes Around Comes Around

Last week I got serious about getting rid of some stuff and started a pretty significant purge.  It's not entirely over, but is definitely underway.  As I was sorting through clothes I came across a few pieces saved from my early days at Gap in the 90's.  Man those were the days: leather pants, tencel-blend skirts and dresses, and the best basic jeans and t's. I wish I would have saved a few more things because I had quite the arsenal back in the day. Employee discount anyone?

This red tank dress has travelled with me from Canada for the past 15 years. It was one of my all-time favorites from a summer collection Gap did not long before I left, and I've never been able to part with it.  Sunday was super warm and we were heading to the flea market, so I took a chance and slipped the dress on over a little tank top. Holy mother of pearl this baby still fits! God bless the inventors of the Whole 30. And the hoarder in me.

~Dress: Old school Gap, Vest: M2F, Booties: Joie, 

Jewelry: Vanessa Mooney, Bag: Brandy & Melville~

Rifling through the fake LV's to get to the vintage crossbody bags. 

Eye of the Tiger after spotting the coolest vintage table for my kitchen or herb garden.

Woot! Will post some pics after I get it situated.

In the meantime, sweet dress right??

And why didn't I buy more than one pair of these boots last year?

Documentation

Let the record show that I do dress up from time to time.

As longtime readers know, suits give me hives.  Yesterday was 'big meeting day' aka a time when I have to get out of my pajamas and venture into the real world (in the daylight hours nonetheless) wearing something other than denim shorts or ripped up jeans.  Last weekend was a bad rendition of me chanting 'what to wear, WHAT TO WEAR?!' I refuse to buy things that will be one timers.  How to make a good first impression, but also stay true to who I am?

Solution: Tucker Dress (another fave print), Seersucker Blazer (don't despair if you don't see online, it's still in-store) and Louboutin Booties.

A hint of the inner bohemian masked by  blazer. Win-win.

Twisted

Last month I lost the camera.

Okay I didn't really lose lose the camera as much as, say, misplaced the camera. But hey, I didn't really know where it was so as far as I was concerned it was lost. How's that for a rabbit trail?

Anyway I found the camera over the weekend. Pretty relieving to see it there, amidst the folded laundry, nestled in the sheepskin rug.  Even more relieving to see a couple of legit outfits on it. I'm not so sure the sequin sweater is still appropriate, but I might give that one a whirl next week because it IS in front of a vintage VW bus and you know how that magic takes hold of me. 

In the meantime I can only say I probably need to put myself on Madewell restrictions seeing as if I get anywhere near the store I can't seem to keep from leaving without a bag. It does happen, but not that often due to a pretty stellar sale section. This skirt falls into the category of 'sporadic purchase turned regular rotation'.  It was one of those moments when my fave shopgirl (who used to work at Martin+Osa so we go way back) employed her mind reading tactics and tossed me into a fitting room with the skirt. 'Just try it,' is her favorite line and she has got it down. In her defense, summer's around the corner and the skirt is a decent price so it came home and is earning its keep in the versatility department. Here's to warmer days ahead! 

~Outfit details: Shirt & Skirt -Madewell, Tanks-Gap, Boots-Jeffrey Campbell~ 

~Vanessa Mooney--Bracelets, Poison Necklace, Keepsake Necklace~

~Brandy & Melville-Fringe Bag, Erin Wasson-Ring, Motif56-Leather Bracelet, 

Vanessa Mooney-Metal Bracelet~

Now if I can just find a couple of maxi skirts....suggestions welcome!

I Did It My Way

I remember when I first moved to the US.  I didn't know diddly squat about chips and salsa.  Margaritas? Wha?  I'm Canadian and could have told you a lot about beer and Canadian Club Whiskey, but that's about where it ended.

Anyone still with me?  I fear I may have lost everyone at Canadian Club...

Confession: there was this time when I first moved to Southern California and asked one of my friends when Cinco de Mayo was.  


Uh, yeah. A-nee-way.

As long-er time readers and people who follow me on the various social networking locales know, I am now well-versed in the chips, the salsa, the guacamole and, on Friday nights especially, the Don Julio margarita.  Okay any margarita, but particularly the Don Julio.  Just this past Friday night I was heartily greeted by almost all the employees at my favorite Mexican place, causing my friend Kelly to turn and say, 'uh, do you think you might eat here a little too often?'. Um, no?

The blasphemy!

So it was on Cinco de Mayo, and yes I am a week late in posting this, that the Chef and I cut out for a couple hours to support that favorite place of ours: Avila's El Ranchito.  Remember last year's episode when we had to get wristbands just to get in, people were grinding to the DJ right by our table, and the lights blew on the entire block as buzzed people ran for the doors to avoid paying their bills?  Yeah, we weren't risking that one again so we went mid-afternoon before the mob hit.

It was off the chain fun and filled with great food. I did the unthinkable and wore neon shoes. I needed a cab after just one drink so it was a good thing Chris drove.  Oh, and I came home at midnight? Viva la Mexico!

Neon. I'm wearing it. I think I may be wearing more of it soon. 

*I've fallen into a neon time warp and can't get up.*

A close-up of the Moon Shield Bracelet you need to get. The Akha not far behind it.

And the neon and gold one is another fave.

More neon, a gaggle of bracelets and some fringe. 

And seriously? How awesome is this guy? 

Lots of questions posed in this one. Not a lot of answers. Monday's calling and I'm looking for the rewind button.

Saving Graces

By mid-afternoon on Friday I was barely hanging onto my religion from having to deal with the box.

If you are unaware of boxville's mayor, please see the previous post.  

Having waxed on so poetically as to how I was going to hold it together and refrain from ripping a new hole, I held myself to it whilst cursing myself all the way but couldn't help fearing the buzzkill of it all would linger like a dark cloud over the weekend. 

Once the clock struck 3 it seemed only fair to let my employees go home a little early after a tough week. Seeing as I'm my only employee it was even more delightful. With oodles of free time and Cinco de Mayo on the horizon, I took it to the streets to scour antique shops in questionable neighborhoods I had only heard about in rap songs. 

I was in full-scale 'cannot be in my office for one more second or I will lose it' mode, as evidenced by this photo:

Here we've got some blur, some positive thinking as manifested on the shirt (fake it til you make it), 

a fringe bag for protection, the magic shoes and a whack pose for good measure. 

Once inside I left all those worries behind upon spotting the above. GOLD CATS. 

Not to be mistaken for the golden calf.

And, um, yeah.  New roommate. 

I could go on but I'll stop here. I mean how could I even top it? Not possible.

Before I knew it, it was time to head home aka back to the work space.  The one downfall of working at home is it's hard to leave a less than stellar day behind, so let's just say I was not in the mood. Once there I dialed everyone and their mother to see who wanted chips and salsa so I could, you know, continue running away from home.  What? No one?? 

Around that time I began feeling sorry for myself until I turned on The Young and the Restless and realized Victor Newman has waaaaaaaaay fewer friends than me.  *Bright side.* Suddenly my phone buzzed with an email from Claire. Claire who is from the Bay area and has been a blog friend for the past two years even though we've never met face to face. Claire was in my neighborhood, on a girls trip and on her way to none other than The Corner with a bunch of other bloggers + friend? VICTORY IS OURS.

See what I mean about fake it 'til you make it?  Examine the evidence:

The incomparable Claire! 

After all these years I guess I could have hauled out a comb? 

We've got peeps from SF, the UK and Canada all right here. Loves it!

It was by far the best way to kick off a weekend that turned out to be incredibly fun-filled and crazy. A special thanks to Micaela, Marianne, Claire, Ezgi (doesn't blog, but should do stand up comedy) and Faiza for peeling by for dinner and drinks. Can't wait to see you again!

HELLO IN THERE!

As of late you will more often than not find me like this.

Okay maybe not exactly like this given the red denim of it all, but pretty close to it. Chris snapped this iPhone one a couple weekends ago on a dreary Saturday when I was deep in thought over a frustrating situation. The kind I'd like to splash hot tea on. You know how those go. Or maybe I'm a sole splasher?

Dealing with people who are in the box is tough.

In the box is a scary place to be. Having a pretty narrow view, primarily out of fear, but then exercising that narrow view from a place of authority in order to try and suck others--especially those living their lives with a degree of freedom--into that box because misery loves company. If you are someone who is a free spirit then you know how your liberty disturbs people in the box.

It makes them angry.

They want to choke you with your red pants.

By not giving in to their power trips and fear tactics, you continually disprove their theory that life inside the box is where it's at and life outside the box is for 'those wingnuts'. It's scary for them. In truth, you scare them. Because the truth is, deep inside, they already hate that damn box anyway. THEY WANT OUT!

I'm dealing with a resident of boxville. Mostly I'd like to throttle this person, but now that I'm ahem of a certain age I would also like to help in, what I believe may be, the beginning of this person's journey out of boxdom. Change begins with discomfort. Instead of flipping the bird and strolling off (which may end up happening anyway), I'm trying to accept what may be my role as an agent of change.

Truth? I don't feel like it.

I'd rather wave my freedom flag and march off into the sunset. I may or may not holler over my shoulder, 'Enjoy your box!'. It would all depend on how self-righteous I was feeling that day. That last part is why I'm trying to change. Everyone deserves a hand up. And maybe there's something I need to see about myself in all this, too.

I think about it a lot. How am I conducting myself in the face of negativity? How am I safeguarding myself against feelings of bitterness? How am I fairly holding this person accountable without taking my feelings of 'WTF is wrong with you?!' out on them. It's a fine line I tell ya.

I might need another pair of colored jeans for this one. Or at least a fringe bag.

With the Wind at My Back and a Picket Sign in My Face

Last week I landed a pair of Vanessa Mooney's aztec moccasins at a sample sale and be damned if almost all my dreams nearly did come true.

Six months of internet searches where I jumped around from one foot to the next until 

they were all sold out culminated in a magnificent reunion.

I hugged them, I leapt in the air, I made a special space for them in my closet.

Yesterday I dressed up like somebody's mom and took them on their maiden voyage for a lunch date.

Overcome with glee I busted out some sort of homage to Danielsan--the one, the only, Karate Kid.

It was a moment.

But the best was yet to come.

This morning I got up, clicked my friggin heels together and prepared to go pick up the last size 6 in the bootie style. It's like the aztec moccasin fairies have been all up in my business this week. Bless them.

On my way out of town I noticed a significant amount of police activity. As in about 20 motorbike ones, 2 of those big vans, several police cars...and a chopper? Good thing I'm getting out of here, I thought to myself. 

Well hold that thought, Carrie. As I got into downtown LA many of the streets were blocked off.  Thinking it was construction, I maneuvered available one ways until I began to notice row upon row of police bikes lining the sidewalks for blocks. And I mean BLOCKS. LAPD is that big? It became apparent, once I turned down the ABBA Dancing Queen disco party in my car, that I was in the middle of an epic sh*tstorm of some sort.  Choppers everywhere, so close their sound was thundering in my chest.  Documentarians with cameras and those dustmop microphones strewn all over the streets. Police, more police, and food trucks? What? 

Don't these people know I need my shoes? They're the last pair!!

Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I caught a SEA OF PICKETERS headed my way.  Screeching into the nearest parking lot I bolted out of my car as a nice parking attendant hollered, 'Where you headed lady? It's not so safe for you down here right now.  I charge you two dollar and you hurry back or you might not be able to get out. Why these people do this? It's not like the government is going to change immigration policy anyway..." as I rounded the corner and wound up marching amongst those picketers in the greatest irony of all.  I'm an immigrant almost through the Naturalization process--something these people so desperately want for themselves--to belong, to make this country their legal home.

You know sometimes you set out to do one thing and, even though that thing (that you love and are so grateful to have) may get accomplished, you end up encountering something else that gives you a fresh perspective. I daresay the right perspective, at least for me.

It was a helluva day. 

And the shoes? I made it to them safely and wish I would have hung around to observe a bit more. I think today was an important day for me somehow.  As far as the shoes go, someday I'll tell them about the time I got swept up in an immigration protest, just to bring them home.