hey pretty

No Excuses

Johanna over at A Serious Job Is No Excuse would be positively apoplectic over what I witnessed earlier today. Our department admin is wearing curlers in her hair today. Curlers! The pink plastic kind, no less. Now I don't profess to be a dedicated fashionista by any means. Sure, I have some nice threads in my clothing collection, I read fashion magazines and while I aspire towards looking sophisticated and polished, I do have my moments of schlub-i-tude. This morning for instance, I rolled out of bed after a blissful 10 hours of sleep, showered and threw on whatever was in my immediate path. That happened to be a pair of old unflattering Gap jeans, a black J Crew polo shirt and a track jacket with my alma mater's name branded on to it. I was embarrassed to look so schlumpy, especially since I didn't have time to apply any makeup and I left my hair to dry into it's naturally curly mop.  But I was running late, my office has no dress code, and I simply didn't care. I'd save looking good for this evening's date with 47.

I am all for casual working environments. While I appreciate the button-downed sex appeal of young men in suits as much (or even more) than the next gal, I appreciate more the ability to be comfortable when I sit in my cube and read Jezebel and Gawker in between my Lexis research and website planning activities (and bloggin, dur). I like the fact that I don't have to feel confined by a suit, dorky-looking nude colored stockings and deadly high heals. I also like that I don't have a very close relationship with my neighborhood dry cleaners. While I worship fashion as art, when it comes down to it, I am a wash and wear kinda gal. But sometimes I believe that the popular ethos of "business casual" has grown into what my college con-law professor loved to call a "slippery slope". That is, when we enact rules to declare our leniency, we risk devolving into a state of complete lawlessness.

Normally, as I have said I million times, I have an ambivalent attitude towards rules. While I get that they usually exist to maintain order, at times they feel arbitrary and confining. But perhaps there's something to be said for establishing clear rules such as dress codes. I suppose I should  take back earlier what I said about us not having a dress code. We do, but it says something like "don't wear half-shirts, daisy dukes or flip flops." I remember cracking up when I first heard that as to me it implied that perhaps at some point somebody had worn an ensemble consisting of a half-shirt, daisy dukes and flip flops to work thinking it would be an okay thing to have on in the office. Plus...daisy dukes? WTF? Who even uses that phrase any more, let alone wear the things? Notice the code doesn't say that I can't wear a bustier and a mini skirt with stripper heels. Not that I even own any of those things, but you catch my drift. I think it's about time said code was modified to remind people to remove their curlers before arriving at the office. Or at the very least to cover the damned things with a vintage silk scarf and hope nobody notices. Ironically, I made a joke at a meeting the other day about somebody being caught at home by unexpected visitors while wearing a bathrobe and having her hair in curlers. Perhaps I should keep my so-called wit to myself. It's clearly partially prophetic.

In the comments section, tell me about the most outrageous breach of professional sartorial standards you have ever committed or witnessed.

This Ain't My First Time At The Rodeo

As a general rule I try to avoid feeling competitive with other women. I tend to find it counterproductive. After all, how can be possibly beat the boys' asses if we're too busy fighting over them? Indeed, I have always maintained that cat fighting is the patriarchy's way of keeping us down. And yet, some women simply *encourage* my instincts to scratch and pull hair. Case in point. Do you all remember that girl I told you about several weeks ago, the one who I was friends with, who made out with the boy I liked after I told her I had already made out with him and that I liked him and wanted to see if it could develop into something? Well, last night due to a series of odd convergences, 47 ended up hanging out with her.

They were in a group of people, and he actually texted me to tell me what he was doing and we spent the majority of the night snarking back and forth to one another via text about how lame she and their mutual friends were. It was a great moment of relationship solidarity. He knows I don't like her and is beginning to share my opinion of her, which I really appreciate. However, towards the end of the night she apparently slipped him her phone number, a move that completely bugs me even though she doesn't know about us and can't for the time being due to various outside factors too complicated to get into on a blog.

So although as a rational human I know she didn't do anything wrong, my petty, jealous mean girl side can't help but feel irked that she's infringing on yet another one of my relationships. This is also the side that's prone to making pointed, condescending remarks towards the people who make me feel bad, an instinct I will now have to fight with her.

In general, I tend to wonder what's wrong with her. Does being a tomboy somehow absolve her from following the girl code--the unspoken agreement between women wherein you don't mack on another lady's man? Is the girl code only something that can be learned through pouring of Seventeen in one's youth, shopping for lip gloss and learning how to walk in heals? I used to think it was an instinctual thing that all women in possessed, but now I'm wondering how much of it is a learned behavior just like so many other female traits.

In the comments section tell me about a person who always seems to disrupt the harmonious flow of events and circumstances in your life.

Gods of Online Shopping 1, HP 0

Don't ask me why I found it necessary to order a dress from Ann Taylor online when there are a 8 million Ann Taylor stores in the Washington Metro area. Something about being bored at work and needing to feel immediately productive inspired the transaction. What a terrible idea that was.

You see, online the dress was perfectly fine. In fact, on the leggy hot model it completely fulfilled all of my requirements for a dress: black; short but not too short; interestingly-shaped, with cool details (pleating on the bodice). I imagined that it would serve quite well in a variety of settings relating to work and social life.

Wrong.

The item in question arrived yesterday, only 4 working days after I ordered it. Props to the Ann Taylor warehouse and the US Postal system for such a speedy turnaround. Exhausted from the gym last night, I was too tired to try it on until this morning. Given this fact, I would like to say that it's possible that my chronic early morning grumpiness clouded my assessment of the garment, but my initial impression was not a good one.

1.) Why must I continue to buy clothes with cap sleeves? Sure, they're cute and all, but I find them really uncomfortable, unless made from the softest jersey or cashmere. I find that cap sleeves limit my mobility and pin my arms to my sides. Not very practical. 

2.) When did Ann Taylor clothes get so boxy? Now those of you who know me in real life can attest that "boxy" is not an accurate physical descriptor of me in anyway. I am, and will always be, an hourglass no matter how small or large those proportions wax or wane. This generally makes clothes shopping a total pain, and even more so thanks to my current fitness regiment. For some reason, my body has responded to jogging and yoga by morphing into this size 8-size 4-size 6 enigma. Yes, it's lovely to behold and I'm rather proud of it, but it makes fitting anything to it a complete crapshoot.

3.) The neckline screams "prude". Herein lies my chief gripe with the dress. I could easily get use to or change the previous two offenses, but there is nothing I can do about a bad neckline. I realize that there is a market for women's clothing that is classic, conservative, not-slutty and appropriate for professional women. Thing is, I'm not that woman. I work in a company where I can afford to be a sartorially adventurous, my personality is a bit quirky, and I look best when I flaunt what I've got. It really makes no sense for me to hide my assets in dowdy threads. Problem is, it's kind of hard to tell from a photograph exactly how a garment is going to fit you. And it's not that I have anything against high necklines. In many cases I think they're beautiful and sophisticated. It's the in-between ones that drive me nuts. They're simply too dippy.

Such a shame are these offenses as the dress had great potential. I still intend to play around with it before I return it just to make sure I'm not overlooking any possibilities for it. It's conceivable that when paired with a wide belt (and man, I am totally having a flashback now to Chris Farley as a Gap Girl telling his customers to "cinch it") it could be savable. Stay tuned. If not, it's back to the store it goes, while I use the cash I get back for it to sign up for the fall session of yoga I have my eye on.

In the comments section tell me about a disappointing experience you had with the online shopping gods.

60 Hours In the Life Of

Dinner at Makoto
Ping pong @ Comet
Fun with muscle relaxants
Copious amounts of sleep
Special advisor to school supply shopping excursion
Whipping through Rock Creek Park in a '68 Datsun convertible, top down
Running meets flying on a Results the Gym treadmill
Dinner at Open City
An episode of Veronica Mars (Season 1) on DVD w. Ames while we wait for AAA to come rescue her keys from her idling (and locked) car
House party in Ledroit Park
Catching up with college friends
Fun with hollowed out cigars 
Text message pratfalls with the S.O
More copious amounts of sleep
Ice cream cake for breakfast with the roomies
A trip to Columbia
A trip home from Columbia, scheming and philosophizing
Hastily throwing together an overnight bag
Cab ride to Mount Pleasant
Dinner of homemade meat balls, tomato sauce, spaghetti and good Zinfandel
Taking in as much Agent 47 as humanly possible before.everything.changes
Count down to the finale of Entourage on 47's ginormous flat screen
Crush on E renewed
Drifting off to sleep in the most comfortable bed ever
More sleep
Shower in the best shower ever
Men's cologne
Whipping through Mount Pleasant and Adams Morgan en route to the metro in a '68 Datsun convertible, top down.

A weekend impossibly packed yet not nearly long enough.

Bore Somebody Else With Your Questions

Happy Friday, my lovelies. Some of you have noticed and made comments about a decided lack of activity around here. So fired up was I over my new hosting platform that my impetus to post has sort of petered out. That, and I really have not a whole lot to report. Things are still on with Agent 47, but I don't feel particularly compelled to go at great length about our relationship. It's stable and cozy and enjoyably domestic. We seem to have skipped over that whole pesky dating phase and now find ourselves in a full-fledged adult relationship. We understand one another tremendously well and simply enjoy one another's company. He inspires me to be strive to reach my full potential whether that relates to work, my other relationships or simply the way I dress. Of course I will admit that part of the thrill of our relationship lies in subverting peoples' expectations for what a couple should look like. We both fully play up our age difference in public and enjoy messing with the heads of people who overly disapprove.

Work continues to be work. It's as emotionally trying as ever, but I'm approaching it with renewed confidence and focus. My website project is presenting a weekly barrage of new challenges, both forcing and allowing me to answer questions I have no solution to but must come up with nonetheless.

Friendships remain in flux, but I learned long ago that the downfall of having a true readership is the fact that one can potentially alienate about a million different people if you reference them in your entries, so on this subject I am mum.

I've been embarrassingly consumed by the idea of fall clothing. I'm trying to shed my long-held conviction that I need to own oodles of moderately priced threads, and am instead approaching this year's cool weather purchases with an eye towards value and long-term style. I'm giving a lot of thought to what wardrobe pieces I actually need, and which ones might spice up my life in interesting new ways. I'm putting aside money from each paycheck to buy several extremely chic, well made pieces. One of which is this piece of frippery: ...because I am convinced that every woman needs something beautiful, fun, and completely frivolous in their closet.

In all, this is shaping up to be quite a year. Although slowing down some, the first 7 months of it have given me a semi-permanent case of whiplash. Some years in a girl's life are completely uneventful and stultifying. This has not been one of those years.

Justin Bobby Fails to Inspire

I was looking forward to last night's episode of the Hills for another chance to dissect the enigmatic Justin-Leto-Vedder-Depp-Bobby (JLVDB). After watching the show and fully contemplating his screen time and presence my assessment is: JLVDB possesses no discernible personality. While many have pointed to his taciturn performance at the third-wheel-date in which Lauren accompanied JLVDB and Audrina out for drinks as enough evidence to label him a major douche, I must politely disagree. Aside from belching and acting somewhat spacey, he did nothing out of reason for somebody who was obviously thrust into a situation designed to let Lauren judge him and tell him why he isn't good enough for her friend. As JLVDB continues to walk around costumed as some sort of rejected extra from Drug Store Cowboy, do we really think he's going to care what some pampered girly-girl from Laguna Beach thinks about him? Methinks not so much. JLVDB is participating in an entirely different cultural discourse. Not to say it's a superior one, simply that he's on another channel right now.

Later, when 'Drina meets JLVDB for drinks he opines about the nature of their relationship, telling her, ''I take you for who you are, the person that you are, and the heart that you have, and I don't let anybody interfere with that. I think truth and time tells all.'' Which would have been sweet had it been delivered with even a smidgen of conviction or warmth. But 'Drina seems pretty taken with him, perhaps due in part to the unfortunate fact that when bad boys wax quasi-poetic, its easy to mistake their words as sacred droplets of meaning leaked preciously from their souls, rather than the last few sediment-soaked tricklettes from a parched well. It's part of the allure of bad boys. We want so badly to validate their behavior that we look for meaning where none exists. But no matter, if 'Drina is happy, the best we can do is to be happy for her. Although, does anybody find it at all suspicious that JLVDB manages to re-enter the picture in time for the filming of a series that 'Drina "just happens" to be a part of? Surely it's due to his heartfelt desire to be a part of her life and not say, get on television. O hai. Can I haz faim pleeze?

Anyway.

The episode also featured the on-going antics of everyone's favorite betrothed duo as they struggled to establish boundaries in their living situation, otherwise known as Example 512 of Why Spencer Is a Famewhoring Douche. I did want to give Heidi credit for the end when she painted over Spenser's "mural" but seeing as how this is an MTV docu-drama, I can't help but suspect that the producers had a hand in that little retaliation, as they probably also scripted the part when Heidi tells Spenser that their now-white wall was a "surprise" akin to him having painted the mural in the first place. Very clever. Too clever for Heidi, in fact.

In all, as with Laguna Beach, I simply can't wrap my head around what the Hills is supposed to be. It markets itself as reality, but there seems nothing real about it. The dialog, the settings, the people all seem ridiculously canned. Every conversation sounds so unbelievably set-up you can almost see the characters rolling their eyes at the lame things the producers expect them to say. And yet, I continue to watch, sucker for punishment that I am. And I continue to route for LC, convinced that she'll eventually evolve beyond her post-adolescent passive aggression into the thoughtful and sensitive young woman we're intended to believe she already is.

A Moveable Feast

Bored with Blogger's blah templates and overall generic-ness I'm testing the waters here at Typepad.  Have yet to decide if I will permanently set up shop here, or if I'll move the party to Wordpress. Time will tell.

Please note that I am in the process of setting up my sidebar links. It may take a while, so please bear with me.