So here's the situation: for the past few days, I have been feeling pretty lousy. I've experienced one of those periods in life when suddenly and, seemingly without warning (though that is never really the case, is it?), the big questions have invaded my brain: Who am I? What am I doing? How did I get here? Will I ever have children?!?
This is rehab, after all.
After a lovely Memorial Day weekend spent with friends in Corona Del Mar, it was time for my husband and eleven month-old daughter and I to board a very crowded, family-laden plane back to San Francisco. My husband, being the gentlemen that he is, offered to help another mom by collapsing her stroller to check at the gate. After her thank-yous, she turns to me and says, “Oh, you are having another one? I have two, they are 17 months apart”. She has two what? Two cats? Two bottles of Chardonnay? An eternity seems to pass before I realize she is talking about babies and thinks I am pregnant! Dear god. For those of you who don’t know me, I am about 8 pounds away from my pre-pregnancy weight, not 80! I politely said I was not expecting, and, after listening to her back-pedal, I hurried to my seat hoping that I would never have to see that woman again.
At any other time I would have burned the dress I was wearing, gone out and bought several pairs of Spanx (which I can’t believe I do not own), and then would have proceeded to go on some kind of self-gratifying shopping trip to ease the pain. Instead, I will exercise, drink more water, and eat better. Oh, and chances are, I will wear that dress again.
Lesson learned: don’t help other people out on the plane. Just kidding.
Love, A
This past weekend marked the first of many challenges for me since beginning rehab. I was invited to a party on Friday and I did not have anything to wear as the theme was “Think Pink” and I had two birthday dinners which meant I had to come up with two amazing outfits without buying anything new. Also, I stepped on and then broke the buckle of my very inexpensive, yet super cute, cream woven belt from Forever 21 and could not go out and replace it.
In actuality, I came out of the weekend feeling like a survivor, and a proud one at that. My friend Cat (pictured here with me, on the left), invited me to Friday’s party as her elusive plus one. She offered up an adorable hot pink Twelfth Street dress without me even having to ask. I added a borrowed patent studded belt to the ensemble, a CC Skye cuff, an LA Made leather jacket and I was good to go!
Picking out outfits for the two other nights proved to be quite successful as well. On Saturday I donned a black mini that I had not even worn yet (bought 3 months ago) with a white blouse, a vintage black belt and some patent heels. My friend Sarah said she liked the outfit and it actually made her want to shop! I’m not sure if that is a good or bad thing, but it definitely made me feel special.
Monday’s outfit was a long sleeve black mini dress from the Jonathan Saunders collection at Target with that same vintage belt and a cream sweater layered on top. Not bad! See? You can find treasures in your own closet.
The aforementioned belt from F21 has since been crazy glued but not yet tested. If it doesn’t make it through this season, somehow I think I will survive.
In fact, I know I will.
Love, A
Yesterday, I found myself wondering what stuff will be like in a year. What will the hot items be? What will be the dominant colors? Shoe styles? Where, oh, where will the hemlines fall in pre-summer 2010??? I realize it’s not that far away (though it feels like an eternity!), it is most certainly not the distant future – I don’t expect to find hoverboards or moon boots. Oh, wait a second! We already did moonboots. (Good grief! That is one trend I won't mind never seeing again!) But, as the disorienting effects of this experiment begin to take, these questions seem like the pinprick of light at the end of this madness. It'll be so exciting! Like the last day of school, I envision myself running, skipping, smiling down Bloor Street, bathed in tulip yellow sunshine, running in and out of Club Monaco, Banana Republic, Holt Renfrew, a twinkle in my eye and a joyful expression (sigh!). But, I digress…
Fashion Rehab began just this past Friday. The final 12 hrs before the project started definitely caused a little bit of stress and a lot of anxiety in my household. It started like any other Thursday: woke up, ate breakfast, had a cup of tea, watched The Today Show, etc. until I realized that I had less than one day to buy anything for myself until May 15, 2010!
This pretty much sent me into a state of panic that led to a midday trip to Nordstrom Rack. I absolutely needed a pair of aviators for the year and could not justify paying full price! Then, somewhere around the dinner hour, I had a coin toss with myself to determine whether or not I should run up the street to The Gap and buy a black cardigan because mine is ultra faded and certainly won’t last the year. Heads I go, tails I stay. Tails it was. No new cardi for me. Bummer. A few hours later, after watching a very dramatic episode of Gossip Girl, I felt a burning desire to go to Walgreen’s (the only store open after 9:00 p.m.) to buy out the entire make-up counter. What is wrong with me? Common sense prevailed and that also did not happen.
All of these events were followed by a very restless night’s sleep that left me pondering the big question: Why are we doing this to ourselves? Stay tuned for what we hope are some pretty reasonable explanations to that conundrum…
Oh, and by the way, I did get the aviators, a great deal at 15 bucks but wish I had splurged for the Ray-Bans. I guess there is always next year.
Love, A
Well, here we go! And here I am. In a place I never thought I would be: Fashion Rehab. Not to be confused with Style Rehab, Fashion Rehab is more about curbing constant consumerism (as explained above) than about making over someone’s look. I think that I have a strong sense of style, if I may be so bold. I would describe my style as Chameleon Conservative. I have a million different styles of clothing in my closet - ok, maybe not a million, but it’s not far off! I feel at ease declaring that I have a strong sense of style because I truly love fashion! I appreciate style whether it’s an amazing designer ensemble or seeing someone on the streets of Toronto wearing something unique and fresh. I recognize people who are well put together, who take time for their appearance, as kin folk. This isn’t about being shallow or judging a book by its cover, it’s simply about identifying something in a stranger that you can immediately relate to. But I digress (something I imagine will happen with frightening consistency over the next year)…
Love, P
