"Lady In...Yellow?"

   I’m elated to report that today I actually found myself on an outing with…wait for it…A FRIEND!!!  It’s true!  It’s true!  I finally went out on the town with another person.  Granted my version of going, "out on the town," is spending the afternoon loitering at a coffee joint, but I like to think we did it up right.  I mean, it’s not often that I veer off my rigid, “eggs and cinnamon toast,” Saturday lunch routine.  I have to admit I felt pretty bad-ass after gobbling down a huge turkey, bacon, avocado wrap and slamming a giant tap water.  Yes, this is, “living it up,” in my late thirties. 

   …and I’m thrilled.  I had an absolutely delightful afternoon with a wonderful person. I was so thankful to get some much needed friend time.  In fact, I’m very pleased every time I’m able to meet up with my friends.  Apparently, being a, “serious adult,” means these opportunities are often scarce.  Everyone is busy working, taking care of their children or pets, spending time with significant others, or…"Erm"…taking hundreds of glamour shots.  You know, grown up stuff.  There simply isn’t enough time in the day to get everything done.

   For instance, after I finish this post I need to forage for something edible for dinner.  Crap…we're out of Totino's pizzas.  In addition, I have to spend some quality time with my fuzzy friends…or there will be consequences.  Reminder to self...don’t piss off your cats.  Lastly, I'm dying to wrap up the last season of, “Longmire,” on Netflix.  Yes, I said, “Longmire.”  I admit it.  I adore anything remotely related to the Western genre.  Again, I’m a 38 year old woman living in the Midwest.  This is only natural.  Okay, maybe my, “Bonanza,” obsession is a little odd, but that’s a whole separate blog post.

   Anyway, it was a true luxury to get all dressed up today to be one of the, “ladies who lunch.”  During this outing I found myself going on and on about…who the heck knows?  I sure don’t.  I think I get so excited when I socialize with people that I just mindlessly babble.  However at one point I did become lucid enough to hear myself utter the sentences, “I’m really into the color yellow lately!  It’s so weird because I’ve never really liked this color before.  I think it’s because I’ve always thought it to be very girly and you know…I’m like more tough than that.  I like black, and blue, and gray….”  By this point even I was getting bored of my commentary.  God bless my friend and her undying patience.  Like I mentioned earlier, I get so starved for peer interaction I turn into a total idiot. 

   While I’m regretting not having something more interesting to contribute to the conversation than my new favorite color, I will state that I'm still surprised at this new found fondness for yellow.  It’s just never been my thing.  Now, before this ridiculous topic takes over my post I think I should try to relate it to the above pictures.  The reason I was reflecting on this earlier conversation is because sitting here now, looking at these images, I simply don’t see a lady who wears yellow.  Black…yes.  Gray…great.  Red…I’m a Leo, so it’s kind of a given…but yellow?  Who is this woman I’ve become?

   All I can reason is that the person in the pictures above is the solitary type.  The kind of individual who hits the coffee shop solo and then gets down to business at the public library quietly reading her latest thriller.  However, the lady who came out today…well…she still hits the coffee shop…some habits will never die…but, she’s got company.  She’s laughing and blathering on about random crap in her notoriously loud voice.  Now this is a woman who likes yellow.  Huh…I wonder if the woman who likes purple drinks coffee?

-r.

My Sketchpad Has A Name

   Quite some time ago I picked up this vintage velvet blazer at Goodwill.  Like many of the prized thrift store treasures I’ve acquired over the years, I enthusiastically ripped this item off the rack upon sight.  I cackled with glee all the way home at the impossible steal I got it for and then regrettably stuffed it into the vault I call my closet.  I’m ashamed to admit since that day I’ve only worn this jacket a total of two times.  I look at these images now and try to reason, “Well, that last picture alone paid for it.”

   To begin, I have to admit I’m a sucker for all things velvet.  Pondering this now I can’t help but be reminded of an old, “Seinfeld,” episode where George states he wants to be, “ensconced in velvet.”  I always laugh heartily at that line and then feel instantly guilty that I too suffer from such luxe longings.  Looking through my wardrobe it's clear that I do have an addiction to this finer fabric.  “How many velvet blazers does one need,” I wonder.

   In my attempt to justify my, “Costanza worthy,” closet I would like to point out that my clothing collection serves a larger purpose than just vanity.  In fact, I would argue it was the vintage blazer featured in the images above that allowed me to stumble upon quite possibly the grandest tree in town.  At the time I was stalking around the park trying to find decent backgrounds for blog pictures when I came across a most impressive Cottonwood.  It’s trunk was truly massive and I'm not embarrassed to reveal all I could think was, “Man, that bark is going to look fantastic with this blazer!”  Honestly, I’m so pleased with the chameleon like effect the two textures had on one another.  Leaving the park that day I got super stoked while dorking out about the juxtaposition between nature and wardrobe.

   Usually this is how the creative process works for me.  I've never been much of a planner.  During college my Art professors would talk about the importance of sketching.  Many of them stressed the value of prepping for a finished piece.  I always struggled with this concept.  I never seemed to know what I was going to create until it happened.  I believe that’s why I became so obsessed with Abstract Expressionism.  I could highly identify with the idea that one’s art revolved around the process of spontaneously executing a final product.  As a result, there is no planning one's work.  Keeping this in mind, the ritual of Abstract Expressionism is frequently frenzied, often emotional, and almost always random. 

   While I'll admit I do spend a fair amount of time planning the actual outfits I wear in my self-portraits, I want to state I usually have no idea what I’m going to do with them once I begin the creative process.  Mostly I just wander around outside, trying not to slide down an ice hill in heels, in search of just the right background to compliment what I have on.  After that all bets are off and the freak show Voguing begins.  All I can say is, “Thank God for tripods and camera timers!"  Self portraits are the only way I possess the gall to pull off the posing performances required to get an interesting shot.  I would simply feel too ridiculous to do this in front of other individuals.

   In closing, I want to mention something wise an artist friend of mine recently wrote on Instagram.  While regarding one of his thrift store finds, he stated, “It’s not hoarding if you make stuff out of it.”  I absolutely loved this sentiment.  It reassured me that my thrifting obsession is simply part of my artistic process.  From now on my sketchpad has a name, and that name is Goodwill!  I believe my former Art professors would be proud.

-r. 

A Favorite...Fur Sure!

   Recently I had an experience that truly scared me.  Thinking back, I find it strange how the most alarming things in life have an odd way of sneaking up on people.  I can’t help but linger on the fact that I waste a good portion of each day worrying about life’s supposed, “big issues."  After I’ve analyzed every possible outcome of these fears I somehow always convince myself that I’m more prepared.  It’s usually at this time that fate rears it's ugly head and states, “Yeah, but I bet you never saw this one coming.”  The only comparison I can think of is my compulsive habit of checking that the stove and oven are both off before I leave the house.  Once I’m FINALLY convinced that none of the burners are going to spontaneously blast out three foot flames I exit the back door only to realize I don’t have my keys, purse, or even a coat on.  To put it simply, I’m always so damned concerned about the what-ifs I don’t pay attention to the actual what-happens. 

   My own history has taught me that the moment one realizes they could potentially be in a lot of trouble is almost always quite shocking.  I’m convinced it’s not that slow burn of dread that one has to worry about.  Instead, it’s the sudden unexpected threat that you never even knew existed.  I guess a wiser woman would take a long look at these last few statements and accept the fact that most things in life are out of one's control.  As a result, I should just say, “screw it.”

   This brings me to my New Year’s resolution.  The other day I had someone ask me what I wanted to change about myself this year.  Surprisingly, my answer was rather abrupt.  I state, “surprisingly,” since up to that point I hadn’t really considered altering anything about the rut I’ve grown so comfortable in.  However at that moment I found myself quickly answering, “I want to worry less and be kinder to myself.”  Immediately I could tell this answer was not satisfactory to the listening party.  I could almost hear the gears in this person's brain grinding, “Don’t you want to exercise more?”  I stared directly into their confused face willing them to have me expand on my profound epiphany.  “Oh,” they answered halfheartedly and then scurried away.

   Additionally, I want to mention I did recently experience something a whole lot lighter on the terror scale…lighter, but still disturbing.  While I was playing in my closet…yes, I wrote, "playing," because that’s exactly what I often do when I need a stress reliever…I realized I hated just about every handbag I own.  The thought just fell out of the sky and suddenly I was terribly weighed down by the smothering idea that all of my purses were cheap, outdated, and juvenile.  How could I possibly not have seen this before?  I call myself a personal style blogger?  Who was I trying to kid?

   Of course, as I sit here now writing this post I’ve had a chance to calm myself down.  I no longer have the urge to throw away every purse I own…which is good because I have an undeniable habit of getting these urges and then giving bags and bags of my closet away before I really consider what I’m doing.  While I've come to the conclusion that I do have quite a few purses I could comfortably part with, I'll also admit that I may have been just a touch moody the other evening and perhaps exaggerated the issue.  In any case, I find this situation to be the perfect opportunity to exercise my New Year’s resolution.  I pledge to be kinder to myself when considering the fact that I don’t yet have the money saved for a Louis Vuitton.   I will not worry about when I might be able to afford my, “dream bags.”  Lastly, if I ever get anywhere close to having the cheddar needed to chase down one of these babies I promise to say, “Screw it!  Visa, you pay the rest!”  Who says resolutions have to be unpleasant?  Looking at these pictures now, all I can think is, “Thank God I still like my coat collection or this could be a terrifying year for my finances."

-r.

Time Travel and Nonsense

   Yet again, I think it’s fairly obvious that I took these pictures quite some time ago.  Yes...it was one of those mild and carefree Fall days spent wearing only a belted cardigan.  As I sit here this January evening, nearly cocooned in wool, I look at these images and think, “You crazy nudist hippie!  I can’t believe there was a time I went coatless!"  

   Admittedly, like every good storyteller, I'm prone to exaggeration.  For example, today it was a balmy 30 degrees.  Suddenly I found myself confronted with the task of actually trying to style an outfit rather than just coordinating my coat with a hat.  Strangely enough, the possibility of actually removing my overcoat in public now seems almost daunting.  I haven’t done it in so long it seems unladylike.  

   While I was finally warm enough today to shed my, “outer skin,” I have to admit I slacked big on the actual styling of my ensemble.  If there’s one good thing to be said about winter on the Plains it’s that there is no better excuse to wear one’s comfy clothes.  Like I mentioned earlier, slap on your best jazzy hat paired with your favorite vintage coat and you’re golden.  In addition, I also believe that there is no, “Meh,” looking day that the right lipstick can’t perk up.  Think of this as the old Courtney Love philosophy.  “Yes my dress might look like I dug it out of a dumpster behind a Catholic girl’s school, but look at my lipstick!  You’ll remember me.” 

   Speaking of my beloved Courtney…and I kid not…I loved her so much in college that I hunted down a cheap thrift store star necklace simply because I saw her wearing one in multiple pictures…do I even have to mention that I still wear it?...  Anyway, speaking of Courtney brings me to my actual activities today where I was delighted to find myself hunting for vinyl records with a good friend.  While I was not wearing my, "Courtney necklace," I did find myself sporting some fairly garish lipstick that I believe she would have mightily approved.  In any case, the grunge goddess must have been with us considering the bounty of good albums we both ended up scoring.  Even though my friend has assured me she is working on perfecting our ability to time travel, I was so happy to find this treasure trove of tunes.  Until she unlocks the key to our way back to 1983 I will be content in knowing I can now stand in the middle of my record room like, “Quantum Leap’s,” Scott Bakula with a space heater dramatically blasting up at my hair while listening to the Madness album, “One Step Beyond,” and I will be in 1979…or a mental institution if someone walks in on me doing this.

   In actuality, I’m aware of the unfortunate fact that today the year is 2018.  I know that no matter how many old records I play, no matter how many vintage sweaters I belt, no matter how much, "Courtney makeup," I apply it will still be 2018.  Maybe...just maybe...if my friend could simply figure out how to return to the days of no coats I would finally be happy.

-r.