What Would Joey Wear?

   To be completely honest this collection of pictures feels a bit like a cop-out.  Upon looking at them now, I wonder why I felt compelled to document such an all over, “Meh,” ensemble.  I guess I could reason that even the most accomplished style bloggers, (of which I’m not), wear uninspired outfits.  Perhaps I could argue that by posting this outfit I was simply attempting to make the statement that one can still adore fashion while being unfashionable.  I mean, sometimes a girl just wants to wander the aisles of Walmart comfortably.

   While I could try to pass these pictures off as an, “every woman wears Converse sometimes,” philosophy I have to admit I would be totally lying regarding the intention behind posting these images.  However, we’ll get to that point later.  First I want to linger on the Converse idea for a moment.  Lately, I’ve noticed a welcome resurgence of this brand while people watching.  Specifically, I've noticed a lot of young fashionable females sporting classic Chucks. These women have their ridiculously super skinny jeans on with white canvas high tops and all I can think is, “Man, Joey Ramone would be impressed!  Cut that blonde pretty pretty pony hair into some blunt bangs and you've really got something we can work with girl!”  I suppose now is the appropriate time to reveal that when styling an outfit I often find myself thinking, “I wonder if Joey Ramone would approve of this look?”  In fact, I have a whole panel of, “style icons,” (most of who are no longer living) that I strive to impress.  Truly, my brother can attest to the hundreds of times I’ve uttered, “I really just want the outfit to look like Joey Ramone, you know?”  His response is always a cackling, “Why the hell do you want to look like him?”  My answer is usually the same, “Because he was someone you couldn’t avoid staring at.  He was an imperfectly perfect reflection of a whole movement of music and culture.  Plus, nobody to this day does bangs like Joey did!”    

   Whew!...sorry, I get worked up about my fashion panel icons.  At some point I’ll have to reveal my other style heroes.  In the meantime, I have to mention while I’m pleased to see young fashionistas getting comfortable in Converse I’m confused by this new version of them.  Today’s high tops and flannel shirts have a slight punk rock feel due to the popular addition of skinny jeans or…ugh…leggings.  While I’m fully supportive of a punk vibe, I can’t quite understand matching it with perfectly applied makeup and ponytails.  I find myself lamenting, “this new generation of women has no idea how to wear a pair of Converse.” 

   It was certainly not like that back in my day.  No siree!  Back in my day us stylish ladies would wear black on black Converse high tops.  We’d pair them with our dad’s old jeans and Soundgarden t-shirts that were three sizes too big.  Over that we’d wear at least two mismatched flannels and, more than likely, an additional one tied around our waist.  We barely combed our hair and NEVER wore even a hint of makeup…and guess what?!  We looked like shit!  However, I've never felt more legit in my entire life.  Isn’t it interesting how I felt THE COOLEST when I looked the worst? 

   I guess I should clarify that when I state, “we,” I really just mean me.  Admittedly, back in the nineties, small town South Dakota was not the hub of grunge fashion.  However there were several of us brave pioneers that dressed how I described.  In fact, I'm fairly certain I have a picture somewhere of me wearing this exact outfit.  A picture that proves this lady knew how to wear a pair of Converse shoes!  Not like the women today who have their makeup and perfectly straightened hair!  Yep, this lady is so much cooler than the primped woman in the photographs abov….wait…ahh...damn it!!!  Okay, so even the, "grungiest," of us like to document our good makeup days…and THAT'S my deep secret reason for publishing this blog post.  Ugh…

-r.

   

Take 2!

   Before today I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard in order to achieve a presentable blog post.  I woke up this morning prepared to get my weekly musings written early, in the hopes that I could enjoy what is turning out to be an absolutely perfect fall afternoon.  However, upon being confronted with the pictures I'd compiled for this post I was absolutely underwhelmed.  Basically all of my photographs sucked.  “This is not acceptable!” I thought and immediately readied myself for a challenge.

   Luckily, inspiration came quickly and the dress I had intended to feature was not the styling nightmare I anticipated.  As I was pairing it with various items I began to recognize where I had gone wrong the first time I attempted to photograph this dress…yes, the time I wore it in public...the time I did not wear it as well as I’d initially thought.  While I was extremely pleased by the outcome of today’s restyling adventure, I was quite annoyed by the actual execution of these photographs.  Let’s just say the, “Take 2,” shoot was a rather rocky one.

   I began my glamour shot escapade by dropping my phone’s Bluetooth shutter remote somewhere in my yard.  Now this would be annoying for anyone, however when one lives on an acreage and has a bad habit of stalking around fairly remote areas of it…well, you can see my dilemma.  Needless to say I spent the first hour and a half of my, “photo shoot,” searching a terrain full of mulch piles in the hopes of finding something the size of a cigarette lighter.  Only at the end of this search I was not going to have that well deserved celebratory cigarette.  Damn society for pressuring me to quit smoking!  I would be a lot less high strung if I could just light up once in a while. 

   As a result, instead of suffocating my rage with addictive behavior I opted for my old friend, self-deprecation.  I can’t image what a bystander would have thought if they had witnessed me stalking around the yard uttering some of the foulest language even the most senior sailor could come up with.  When it comes to creating nasty names for myself I’m a pro.  Honestly I should get a medal for creativity.  Ironically, it was just yesterday that I was, “creatively,” berating myself when I realized I was not the only person in the room.  It was at this point that I apologized for my language and told the other individual that, “I usually try to watch my mouth when there is a lady present.”  Instead of laughing liked I’d hoped, this woman looked at me oddly and didn’t reply.  “Man, I’m a dumb ….” I thought. 

   Returning to today's odyssey, I’m shocked to report that I did end up finding my remote.  However this did not happen before I had collected a small herd of fuzzy friends.  I know it’s annoyingly obvious that I love my cats…I never stop talking, or writing, about them.  Despite my undying affection, my cats can be a real pain when I’m attempting to take blog pictures.  They are used to being babied by me and REFUSE to leave me alone when I’m trying to get something done.  Huh…come to think of it, this is a problem I have at work as well…but that’s a whole separate blog post.  Anyway, it’s not totally uncommon for me to have a cat hanging off my back in glamour shots.  I simply try not to actually post these images on the blog…although I should because they're hilarious.  In closing, I spent my morning retaking pictures of a dress I wanted to feature correctly.  I ended up with a new collection of images that I believe shows a better coordinated woman, who appears pissed off.  “I’ll take it,” I thought while unhooking a cat’s claws from my leg.

-r. 

Free Range

   Well folks, tonight is one of those rare occasions that I have nothing to say.  Usually upon constructing a blog post I'll have a vague outline in mind addressing what I’m going to discuss.  However, for the first time…maybe ever…I sit here and find myself with squat.  Life just hasn’t been that interesting lately.

   I seem to have already resigned to my winter rut and it’s only September!  I guess I could state that the day I took the above pictures I found myself roaming the local zoo.  That afternoon I spent hours staring at animals in cages without even an inkling of remorse.  Afterwards I wondered if I was supposed to feel guilty about seeking entertainment from the captive wild.  Was I obligated to wonder if these critters were happy?  Was it my moral obligation to question if their care was up to snuff?  Most of all, why did I feel worse about the extra ice cream sandwich I just inhaled than I did about the baby monkey behind bars?   “Maybe I'm just bad,” I thought while shamefully acknowledging my vintage fur coat collection at home.

   Of course, in response to this last comment I want to reiterate that no mink, fox, raccoon, or rabbit from the 1940’s to the 1970’s died without me attempting to honor it.  Yes, one could argue that each time I purchase one of these coats at the thrift store I perpetuate the idea that killing animals for fashion is okay.  However, I would argue that most of these creatures died long before I was around and it’s an outright sin to ignore the beautiful product of their sacrifice.  I'm very aware that many others do not share my opinion on this matter.  However, I do hope that everyone can abide by the, “Different Strokes,” proverb...and no, I'm not referring to, "What you talkin bout Willis?"  Let’s just stick with, “Tomato…Tomoto"…oh, and please don’t throw any rotten fruit if you come across me wearing one of these gems.

   Back to the topic at hand, I guess the reason I didn’t feel bad for the animals at the zoo was because they looked content.  The monkeys were all chilling and picking each other’s ears.  The penguins were all doing a happy dance around a big bowl of bait.  I even saw a koala bear fall asleep mid chew during his dinner.  “My God!” I exclaimed, “These animals are in the same rut I am!”

   Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware that I just made a comparison between being content and being in a rut.  I'm very pleased to be able to state that in many ways I’m quite happy with the way my life is.  However sometimes I really long for something different.  For example, I look at my outdoor cats,(whose portraits grace the patches of my shorts in the above pictures), and wonder just what they do every day out there in, “The Wild”?  Each morning I release them from the shop and watch them sprint out the door in order to pursue…who knows what kind of adventure?  They are free range animals for the day and able to seek out any activity they may fancy.  They have no obligations…no regrets…and no routines…except maybe the one where they all come running for my calls when nightfall comes.  Oh...and I guess they all march in a single file line into the safety of their overnight shelter.  Okay…and yes, they all expect a full belly from the food bowl and a turn at the litter box at this time.  I ask you, is it a big deal that each one of them anticipates exactly three treats before they retire to their seemingly assigned sleeping spots?   Yep, my outdoor cats have it made.  They are what I would call rut-less. 

   Too bad being rut-less means I’m always fearful of the day one of them will disappear.  In anticipation of this event every morning before I let them out the door I rock each one of them in my arms and whisper, “You be careful out their today.  Look out for your siblings and make sure to come back to me tonight.  Most of all always know that you are loved.”  Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the cats demand this as well…but not out of routine!

-r.

Cupcakes and Clowns

   Just today I told my boyfriend I felt like I was going through some sort of early midlife crisis.  His response was an emphatic, “No you’re not.  You’re way too young for that.”  I was instantly annoyed.  Who was he to tell me how I was feeling?! 

   Of course, I neglected to tell him I had proof of my suspected crisis.  However some stories seem like too much work to explain.  Such things include my secret trip made to the St. Vincent De Paul thrift store.  This outing occurred after I was able to leave work early the other day.  Instead of going directly home..."sigh," like I always do...I chose to hit one of my favorite thrifting hot spots.  To elaborate, I believe one of the largest issues of my, “midlife crisis,” is the realization that the majority of my adult life is simply a series of trips between home and work.  During the weekdays I never go anywhere else…other than the occasional trip through the McDonalds drive-thru in order to get one of those delicious crispy chicken southwest salads…and yes, fries too.  The other day when the rare opportunity to break routine presented itself I felt thrilled…and a little guilty...to find myself mindlessly roaming the aisles of St. Vinny’s on a Friday afternoon!

   Actually, I wasn’t exactly without purpose that day.  Lately I’ve been hyped for the cinematic remake of Stephen King’s novel, “It.”  I truly can’t wait until it's released!  I mean, come on...nothing announces the arrival of autumn more than a killer clown classic.  As a result of my excitement, I’ve been trolling secondhand stores in search of a used copy of this book.  When asked why I didn’t just go buy the paperback at Barnes & Noble my father knowingly responded for me by stating, “Because she obviously wants a creepy haunted copy.”  Now here is an example of someone who understands what I’m feeling.  Unfortunately I still haven't been able to locate my perfect spooky edition of this story.  However my thrift store search will continue, and in the meantime I’ve collected quite a few new tweed treasures for my fall wardrobe. 

   Despite my lack of success finding Stephen at St. Vinny’s, I did come across one of the most alluring pieces of clothing I’ve encountering in quite a while.  It was a light pink chiffon and lace layered dress that looked to have been made around the 1950’s.  I was immediately drawn to it.  It was so pretty...it was so impractical…it was so juvenile.  “When would I ever wear such a thing?” I thought while desperately trying to justify the space in my closet this saccharine puffy monstrosity would fill.  I reluctantly left the thrift store that day opting to use the $9.00 in question towards a more, "adult," cause. 

   Of course now, two days later, I sit here lamenting the fact that for the price of a McDonald’s crispy chicken salad and fries I could be the living embodiment of a cupcake.  In other words, I can’t believe I left that dress!!!  Who cares if it was a totally inappropriate garment for a thirty-eight year old woman to wear.  Heck, I could throw one of the seemingly hundreds of tweed blazers I’ve collected over it and suddenly I’m on to something.  I’m so irritated at myself for letting my insecurities get the best of me.  Perhaps that dress was not meant to fill up my closet, but rather refill a spontaneity in me that has been smothered by adulthood and then dressed in…you got it…tweed.  So today I sit here, looking at the pictures above, that display an outfit I find appropriate for a woman my age and I think, “Man, St. Vinny’s won’t be open again until Tuesday.  Who knows if some twenty-something twit will be wearing my dress by then!”  Now I ask you, how can I explain myself competing over clothes with college students without considering the possibility of a mid-life crisis?  Not even the cruelest killer clown story is that ugly. 

-r.