Ciblek Mania

Last month I lost the camera.

Sometimes I can get pretty overwhelmed.

By what, you ask?

Oh, well, everything.

As you get older interesting things happen, and I don't mean those lines around your mouth. What might have once overwhelmed you, things like making sure you have on just the right outfit or turning yourself inside out to get a mean person's approval, well those things oftentimes fade away. You're comfortable in your own skin, satisfied with who you are. Victory, right? In a sense, yes. It is a victory.

But other equally annoying things crop up in their place. Thoughts like, 'Damn I'm old, I need to buy a house!' and 'Did my friend just say her kid's in junior high? Do I even have any eggs left in the basket?!' Yeah, those annoying things. Thankfully the only eggs I'm thinking about right now are the ones I missed out on at Easter. But the house thing? I'll admit: I wouldn't mind my own personal space.  Free from neighbors who help themselves to my barbecue just as I'm about to barbecue. True story.

One of Southern California's saving graces is its apartments. A lot of them are chock full of character, and you can't help wanting to move every couple years when one of the good ones comes up for grabs. Remember this place? I've kept an eye on it since I first spotted it about 5 years ago. It has now been for rent for 2 months, so the other day I caved and stopped by to check it out when I saw the sign: No Pets. What do you mean NO PETS? Don't these people know cats are family? Fa-mi-lee.

Spring.

That glorious time when you pull out the floral prints and wear them with glee.  That time when strolling around in denim shorts is no longer met with the looks of bewilderment you encountered during your weather denial phase in December. That time when maybe you shouldn't have been so eager to jump around in sandals and bare legs over the Easter weekend because the allergy attack you thought you were having despite never having had one of that nature before has actually turned out to be the flu.

Fail.

It was fun while it lasted.
That's all I've got. Back to bed.

Moments ago I almost pulled the trigger on a pair of coral skinnies. It was a close call.

This morning I spent some time reading blogs to see what's going on. Truth be told I don't get to do that as often as I used to, but when tax prep is the alternative it's amazing how suddenly there's a lot more time than I thought. Hmmmm. Anyway, after perusing several blogs I found myself thinking I needed this pair of denim.

I don't.

In fact, and this may strike as blasphemy here in blogland given the current trend, I don't really care for colored denim. It looks cute on other people, but the one red pair in my closet is enough for me.

Where am I going with this?

A few days ago I was talking to a friend about the pitfalls of blogging. I explained how last year I found myself really struggling to find more than a few things in my closet that I loved to wear. We all have those I have nothing to wear days, but it was more than that. I found myself disconnected from my wardrobe, having purchased things that no longer represented me. It was a wake up call.

Reading blogs can turn into mini shopping sprees. Real live women showcasing outfits in real time. If I see enough of them in the same trend I sometimes catch myself thinking maybe I should try it, even though it's not my style at all. Don't get me wrong: it's good to be encouraged to take a risk now and then, but it should still represent your aesthetic.

I wasn't going to post these pictures, but after nearly slipping from the precipice this morning I decided to pull them out. Yes, I wear loungewear in public. Rather frequently, in fact. It stems back to kindergarten when I insisted on wearing my cherry red sleeved baseball pj shirt with the kid drawn house and stick figure family, complete with floofy apple tree, on front to school. Regularly. Until I broke both wrists after slipping from some hay bales, getting casts and then having to have the sleeves cut off my beloved shirt in order to get out of it. Would've hated to be in my mom's shoes that day. Think flood of tears.

Seriously though.  I'm not saying I'll never catch a trend and I'm certainly not saying all I ever wear is pajamas (uh maybe?), but I am saying it's important to remember who you are.  I'm happy to report I've rediscovered my footing and am allowing the wardrobe pendulum to swing again in a way that is true to me. Stand by for more jeans and pjs? Maybe even with a flat and a blazer. But most importantly mixed with pieces I love to wear just as much now as when they were purchased.

On Saturday I rolled into the kitchen decked out in one of my usual outfits of choice: faded, ripped up slim jeans, a white t and a pair of ankle boots. It was an exciting day: this pair of ankle boots is new. And it has buckles. What can I say? It's the little things, people.

As I glanced sideways in the mirror while strolling down the hall, something seemed off. I stopped, turned, walked back and stood there a moment assessing the situation. Hmmmm. Back in the kitchen (really I'm still on the first entrance but gave you a little context) I say to the Chef, who is so kindly assisting with litterbox duty, 'Dude. Does something about this say Peter Pan?' To which he responds by looking up and proceeding to double over in laughter, 'No, no! I actually never would have thought that. But now that you say it...' Well now.

Taking it back down the hallway I trade out the jeans for a slightly slimmer and much darker pair. Victory. Balance. No Neverland for me today, after all. Turning to the Chef I say, 'Better, right?' Not so much a question, but rather an eyerolling whew.

To which he turns to me straightfaced and says, 'Yeah, but you might want to give your skallywags another roll.'

Everyone's a comedian.

Have you ever seen something, paused, taken the leap in purchasing and then wondered why you hesitated in the first place?  Story of my life. About a month ago Calypso St. Barth had an online sample sale, so I meandered over to the site to take a look and fell upon a superb pair of pants. The only thing holding me back was length.  At 5'3'' there is a lot of hemming that takes place up in this dojo and the pants were just the right wide leg.  Would they be hemmable (and yes I realize that's not exactly a word, but neither is inspo and plenty of people are using that linguistic tragedy...)? Because nothing wrecks a perfect, slightly flared leg than a hem job gone wrong.

Cut to scene and I pulled the trigger purchasing the pants once I realized their original price was over $200 and these were....wait for it...on sale for $35!! All I can say is victory on the pant front and I don't even want to hem them.  Wore them with a platform sandal on a lazy Sunday a couple weekends ago.  Examine the evidence:

Do you ever have moments where you feel caught between the past, present and future?  Lately I'm stuck in the vortex, pulled in all three directions, emotionally exhausted.

Am I doing all I should be?
Have I done all I could?
Is what I'm doing enough to be able to do all I want later?
Wish I had made a different choice. (new territory for me)
Maybe if I had I would be doing more of what I want now...

It can be a torturous thing this thinking thinking thinking.  It's necessary though.  I mean if you're not contemplating your life one day you'll wake up wondering how you got there.  And what if you don't like it?

Oh hell this is really turning into a melancholy one, isn't it?

Blame it on Monday, overcast skies, lack of sleep.  When in Rome.

I managed to haul it out mid-afternoon yesterday.  Just in time to catch 15 minutes of sunshine amidst what's turned out to be a full week of foggy days.  No complaining here.  Tossed on the usual jeans, boots, jacket and t--and then slung my Low Luv Thunderbird necklace on at the last second.

Chef took a few pictures before we hopped in the car and when he passed the camera over we had the quietest exchange.  Me: 'Something about this is very Goose and Maverick.  Man look at my hair.  I need a comb.'  Him: 'Your hair has never looked better.'  Tell me sweet little lies.  More 80's flashbacks.

Oftentimes I find myself thinking of alternate names for the blog.  Yesterday I came up with 'Me and my Jean Jackets'.  I love a jean jacket.  I have 5 or 6 of them.  A couple denim vests too. It's a sickness that I blame entirely on my years working for the Gap.  If I'm not in jeans, I'm carrying or wearing a denim jacket.  Safety blanket, I guess.

Fringe, mane, cats.  All of these things belong here.  (as opposed to one of these things just doesn't belong here)

About a month ago, the Chef's mom opened her garage and two Abyssinian kittens strolled in.  Well actually one darted straight into the house and the other followed soon after.  She hollered to the Chef as she pulled away, 'A cat's in the house.  Keep an eye out for it.'

You know the best part of the story?  This is totally normal dialogue in their world because these are cat people.  They don't question or freak out when cats find them, they just accept them into the fold.  The past few cats their family has had all either rolled up to their house or his dad's office and never left.  It's in the DNA of cat people.  We're cat seeking devices.  I was secretly ecstatic when I met his parents for the first time and saw cat paraphernalia littered throughout the house:  cat rug, cat thermometer, cat doorstop, cat figures in the planter outside, iron cat statues on the bookshelf, pillow stating 'The Cat's the Boss in this house'.  I made mental notes with glee.  All my cats have found me too.  Same with my parents.  I come from a long line of cat lovers...goes back generations.  No jokes.  We have the photos.

*Cue 'We are Family'*

His parents are out of town and he's catsitting.  This basically means all I did this weekend was play with kittens.  Well, one kitten and one cat.  The other kitten just stares at me and runs by...but I'll win him over.  He sniffed my hand on the way out the door yesterday and just 48 hours ago I won over his brother.  Victory is on the horizon, friends.  Stay tuned.

Falling in love with LA is something that's turned out to be a huge surprise to me.  The first couple years I lived in the city I seriously thought I was going to lose my sh*t.  Pushy people, everyone claiming to be an actor (as they help you try on your shoe or pass your tea over the counter), the snazziest car at the four way stop goes first--unwritten rules that I was unaccustomed to and, quite frankly, highly annoyed by.  Then around year three, once I started working for myself and had more free time (read: no longer chained to the desk for 12 hours/day), an interesting thing happened.  I would wake up in the morning and want to be in certain parts of town or at certain places.  And the things that once worked my nerve, well I didn't notice them as much anymore.