Redventure.

Last fall I gave my green wellies a spectacular send off with six-hour romp through the rain and the mud and the discarded, half-eaten bagels.

Finally, in early January, I bought a new pair of boots.

Grown-ups don't wear red boots. Grown-ups wear sensible boots in sensible colors like navy or charcoal. But if I am going to have to traipse around in vortex-like temperatures in a colorless, bleak Chicago winter, the least I can do is bring some good ole fashion adventure boots along for the ride. These boots are made for snow drifts and mucky, grey sidewalks. They are made for spur of the moment escapes from hibernation and the mindless trudging to my warm, but ultimately stuffy and very-grown-up office building. They have been my mostly companions for the past three weeks and I love them.

They are me. Sensible and impractical. Fun and safe (look at those reflector lights!). Warm and yet, always in need of another layer.  If I have to spend my winter anywhere other than under the covers, I'm glad I get to spend it with you.

Carolilly Square

This should be a Thursday's Best Internet Finds post but technically, I found out about it in the real world and now sing its praises on the Internet tubes.

Carolilly Square makes my heart beat for the East Coast. All summer, I had been seeing pictures posted on her page of these amazing tanks and hoodies. Finally, I got myself together and bought one.

Buying this sweatshirt was amazing. Internet clothing shopping can be so dicey and Chicky was so patient with me as I tried to make sure it wasn't going to show up and not fit and then nothing would ever be nice again. She was great and thorough and clearly wanted me to be happy with this purchase. She's the best.

This quote makes me miss all things Maryland. Any time I wear it, there is this dull ache of wanting to be where I am not. Which will only make being there (two weeks from today!) all the sweeter.

The more I see of Carolilly, the more I just want to crawl into her store and live a life of adorable, trendy fairy tales. Everything is so thoughtfully picked out. There is clearly a mission and a story and love in all of it.

I adore a good lady-owned small business - it's nice when your retail therapy (of which I am doing a lot these days) can be beneficial for an actual person. 

That being said - someone buy me one of those chevron infinity scarves now, please and thank you.

in my idiocy

There are many things I am terrible at - but one of the ones that fills me with the most self-doubt is the fact that I do not know how to dress myself.

I don't know how I missed this particular boat, but I did and so here I am - precariously close the age of 30 without the knowledge of how to make clothes work. 

I will say that I am trying.  In the past few years I have made a concerted effort to try more than I ever have.  I try more now than I did in New York.  New York was over my head and not in my budget.  My poor feeble-minded mind could barely wrap itself around RCN bills - and I once spent $30 on a tank top.  A. Tank top.  Granted, I still own and love it.  But $30 then was a whole week's worth of lunch and dinner.

I have this vivid memory of visiting New York when I was still living in Maryland and seeing a tee-shirt for $29 in Dylan's Candy Store.  My mother and I were aghast.  $29 for a tee-shirt?!  Who would ever pay such a price?  Me (it turns out).

Anyway - I am finally at a point in my life where I not only have some expendable income to put towards my wardrobe, I also have developed a sense of giving a sh*t.  Its weird and I'm trying to embrace it, but man it is a struggle.

Back in the day, my fashion of choice was always a funny tee-shirt and jeans.  Always.  I don't know why I never thought to try any harder than this.  But I was happy in my tee-shirts that were essentially wearable comedy bits.

PS - I still own most of my favorite tee-shirts. I cannot bring myself to get rid of them despite the fact that I am trying extra hard to move onto bigger and better things.  Some day I might become a hobo again and I at least want to be a funny hobo.

Now that I am making a conscious effort to see beyond the tee-shirts, I am running into some problems.  First of all,  I immediately hate everything that doesn't look like it like it came directly out of Grace Kelly's closet.  My "style" can only be described as classic meets impractical meets out of your price range.

And so I am left just trying on everything, which then becomes trying on nothing because when you go into a Forever 21 or Urban Outfitters, everything can be super overwhelming.  Also, primarily atrocious.  Which is why when things like skinny jeans and leggings started being propagated at these stores - I resisted.  Hard.  These were the people who tried to also get me into bubble skirts and vests.  They were not to be trusted.

Turns out skinny jeans and leggings are both excellent wardrobe staples that should be accepted and appreciated for their value of making your legs look longer and making it so you can still go on the monkey bars in skirts.  If they were right about this, what else were they right about?

I've started trying to find out and its hard.  Example - I need a wide brown leather belt to wear with a few  different dresses I already own.  I've made it past the first step - I know I need the belt, now I have to figure out where the eff to buy it and what it is supposed to look like.

I've developed this idea in my brain of "wide brown leather belt" that may not actually exist in the known universe - and if it does, I'm not sure I'll know it when I see it.

This example can also be used for just about everything - including but not limited to black knee-high boots, button-down shirts, and skirts that fit a bill more varied then "its too hot for pants."

So, I've decided that I either need to start living with girls who will tell me what to wear again, or hire a personal shopper.  Or maybe just go back to the tee-shirts.

Thoughts on Nantucket. Part 3 - Clothing

I'm not quite sure why its acceptable to dress like a pansy-ass douche waffle on Nantucket...but it is.

My normal apparel is only a microscopic step above hobo's pajamas. I wear the same jeans for weeks on end, and have piles of "casual tee-shirts" and "fancy tee-shirts" in my dresser. I only wear dresses when I feel morally obligated (read: someone is about to spend a lot of money to feed/entertain me).

But for some reason when I get to Nantucket I feel the need to look Good. Not necessarily fancy - but like I put some legitimate thought into my wardrobe. Naturally, because I am an idiot - to me, "thought" means "things with labels that make them sound expensive." So I mostly wear the eight or so pieces of "designer" clothes I own and then wear them again...because its a small island, but not that small, no one will notice.

Here's the thing, even if some one does notice I am wearing the same Ralph Lauren (outlet) dress I wore on Wednesday, I can tell them they look like a clown, because chances are? they totally do.

Seriously - if you told a normal, self-respecting grown up that they could spend $150 on a pair of pants. But not just ANY pants. Seersucker pants. But not just ANY seersucker pants. Seersucker pants with Lobsters on them. My hope is that grown-up would punch you in the jaw and spend their money on something more respectable like some cupcakes or a laser disc player.

But when you google "seersucker lobster pants" the FIRST link that pops up is for Murray's Toggery. THE clothing store of Nantucket. Hand to God. (pic from The Complex) Murray's also happens to be the original home of the Nantucket Reds (go home J. Crew, you bunch of posers).

Nantucket Reds is super exclusive - by which I mean, ever man (and most ladies) on the island owns a pair. And I'm just curious...has no one gone up to even one of them and said, "Did you know you are wearing pink pants?"

Seriously, I am not saying that there is anything wrong with pink pants, but I feel like many of these SUV-driving homophobes might have some issues if someone called their pants pink.

But? They are. (Thanks, Boston Not Common for the pic).

And even though it sounds like I am making fun of these clothes (which I kind of am) - I too find them all totally acceptable on Nantucket and I don't know why. I see men in Reds in New York (or worse, Chicago) and I laugh silently and shun them. There is a place for these things (see also - madras anything, and those quilted slipper things that old ladies wear out in public - even though they are obviously slippers) and that place is on Nantucket.

Do I occasionally lust for a Nantucket Red tastefully short skirt? Do I spend more time than is really necessary in the Lilly Pulitzer store? Am I damn proud of my Vineyard Vines bag? Of Course.

Would I ever buy any of these things full price? Never... I'm not quite that Nantucket. Also, its a slippery slope before you start looking like a clown.