Ciblek Mania

Last week I got serious about getting rid of some stuff and started a pretty significant purge.  It's not entirely over, but is definitely underway.  As I was sorting through clothes I came across a few pieces saved from my early days at Gap in the 90's.  Man those were the days: leather pants, tencel-blend skirts and dresses, and the best basic jeans and t's. I wish I would have saved a few more things because I had quite the arsenal back in the day. Employee discount anyone?

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:

Saturday afternoon, while everyone in the east was experiencing a snowstorm, here in Southern California we got 80 degrees.  Is it so wrong to want to dress seasonally appropriate?  Apparently so.

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.

Here's a rare Saturday night post.  Not sure I've ever actually done one of these, but the Chef insists so here it is.  We were piecing through some Instagram pictures and came across this one taken on a super hot day a couple weeks ago.

Chef:  'Oh you have to put this one up for the Fringe Files.'

Me:  'Uh, okay.  Maybe this week.'

Chef:  'What do you mean this week?'

Me:  'I'm pretty sure no one wants to see me wearing the same fringe bag in every post.'

Chef:  'Hel-looo there's a fringe bag AND boots.' pause 'I mean, you have a fringy reputation to uphold.'

Who can argue with that logic?  You can tell there hasn't been a ton of time for snazzier pictures as of late.  Not that we ever had a fancier camera, but you know what I mean. These days it's a lot of hair in ponytail, Instagram on the fly and quality time spent together vs. la-de-da outfits and time spent on photos.  We're still getting in the groove of the whole restaurant schedule thing, but it's starting to get a little better every day.  Thanks for hanging in there.

What can I tell you?  It's Sunday night as I type this and my wrist is feeling slightly better.  In fact it's already seizing up and I'm only on sentence number two.  So much for that idea.  Pardon me while I pull myself together for a quick weekend rundown:  slept for hours with windows open and a light breeze blowing, ate pint after pint of raspberries, threw a few more things in the closet purge pile, watched waaaaaaay too much Dateline and am contemplating joining the FBI, and on Friday night seated someone at a table at the Chef's restaurant when everyone else was busy with other customers (where's my tip? hehe). 

Things are going well for him--so far so good as the saying goes.  It's incredibly exciting to watch it all play out from the sidelines.  The crazy start-up hours have left me with a lot of time on my hands and even though there are plenty of things I could be doing *ahem cleaning* somehow I'm just taking a moment to do nothing much.  It feels nice to pause and regroup for the first time in over a year.  Last Sunday I woke up with hours of free time and instead of racing off on an errand rolled down to the flea market to take a gander.  More like a jackpot.  There were so many treasures to be found that day.  What was supposed to be a simple jaunt turned into a 3 hour marathon.  I left with bag filled with 70's vintage gems--amongst them these $8 pants.  Yes I said EIGHT DOLLAR PANTS.  My own little dream come true.

~Outfit details:  Hat-Hat Attack, Vest-H&M, Chambray Blouse-Gap, Belt-Anthropologie,

Pants-Vintage, Sunnies-Target, Bracelet-Brooklyn Thread~

Who ever let these go?  WHO?? I spotted them after pilfering through racks and racks of

crazy ol' 70's dresses and skirts.  Unable to believe my eyes I screamed out, 'HOW MUCH?!?'

while a young Hispanic guy laughed hysterically and said the word 'eight'.  

Unable to contain myself I screamed incredulously, 'EIGHT? EIGHT DOLLARS?,' 

as he nodded wildly.  He had a live one.

'SOLD!!!,' is the final thing I remember hollering while rooting for my wallet.

Somewhere in flea market land the word loco was used a lot that day.

They're the perfect pants for spotting shed snail shells in the dirt.  

Eye of the Tiger.  

For some reason I feel like saying, 'Ahoy Matey' every time I look at this picture.  

Land ahead?

Off to continue resting my wrist and staring at the eight dollar pants.  Let's see how long this can go on for.

It's become increasingly obvious that if I want to get any outfit pictures done for this blog I'm going to have to be prepared at all times.  That's like telling a 4 year old on a roadtrip to 'hold it' until the next rest stop.  Uh, yeah--probably not going to happen so have to plan in advance for accidents.  There I was on Saturday morning fresh off a night of Dateline, 20/20 and Nancy Grace Casey Anthony updates...sheer bliss.  The last thing I wanted to do was hop out of bed and coordinate for a picture.  The only thing on my mind was sleeeeeeeeep.  You know, in order to avoid having to purge my closet any further.

Enjoying the silence I began mentally planning posts for the upcoming week when it hit me:  I had none.  Up out of the bed I hopped.  After glancing out the window to see miracle of all miracles - the SUN shining (seriously it's been in the 60's for a month) - I popped the closet open and stared down a skirt I've been hankering to wear ever since spring supposedly sprung.  At approximately a half past I'm not quite ready yet the Chef rang me to say he was ready.  Cut to scene and there I was zipping off down PCH in hot pursuit of wherever he was--ever tried coordinating locations by cell phone?  Um, I don't advise.

Me:  'You're where?'
Him:  'Well where are you?
Me:  'Who cares where I am? I'm driving toward you, aren't I?!"
Him:  'I'm parked on the side of the road at xyz'
Me:  'I have no clue where that is, ya know.'
Him:  'Where are you?'
Me: 'Haven't we already been over this?  Fine.  I'm at ab and cd.'
Him:  'Look up the road and to your right.  I'm on the side of the road'

....he says as I zip on by, surrounded by traffic, unable to stop.  Oy vey people.

Fortunately we were able to find some open field thing that looked like the middle of nowhere.  Totally reminded me of the desert.  Palm Springs?  Is that you calling?  Hope to see you soon.  Love, Carrie.

There I was:  all dressed up and nowhere to go aka on my way to get more Ben & Jerry's Boston Cream Pie ice cream groceries when I found myself in the most random of random neighborhoods.  You know, the one 10 blocks from my house that I've never ventured into because I work from home and barely leave the house except on weekends? Anyway suddenly I could barely contain the 70's fever of it all.  Shaun Cassidy and K.C. and the Sunshine Band came out on blast through the speakers as I drove up and down the block super slow to see if anything, anything was for sale.  In my mind I packed my stuff, grabbed a disco ball and went back in time.  Long wavy hair, high-waisted wide leg denim for days, big ol' platform shoes, billowy maxi skirts, culottes with blouses tied at the waist, arms piled high with bangles, a patchwork suede handbag, dreams of the huge afro I'll never have -- and neighbors that are actually neighborly.

When I think summer in the 70's my mind floods with images of a home with a big cream colored stone fireplace and a rainbow VW bus parked in the driveway, block parties, kids on skateboards playing in the streets while sprinklers wave in the breeze, parents on front lawns drinking Pilsener from cans while charcoal bbq's send smoke plumes into the warm air.  Hot damn if I haven't found my ideal block and house.  I wonder if the neighbors are included in this transaction? A girl can dream...

Rarely does a weekend go by when the Chef and I aren't racing the clock trying to squeeze an outfit picture in. Truth is, without him there would be no outfit pictures (yes i'm having a moment).  I'm uncomfortable enough as it is and pretty much wither up at the thought of lugging around a tripod (which coincidentally I don't even own - go figure).  When I started blogging last spring time was a luxury because he was still searching out restaurant locations - now he's mere weeks from being open and it's a completely different scenario.  To say we're stretched thin is pretty tame.

Sunday was such a treat. We spent the whole day together, had a leisurely mani-pedi - hey the guy is on his feet non-stop and has custom built so many things for his new place he deserved it - relaxed over lunch and then kicked it into high gear to get the pictures done.  After driving around aimlessly, for what seemed like forever, we haul out both kind of frazzled, and suddenly I got the giggles.  There we were on the bloody sidewalk in a hoity-toity part of the neighborhood where you know people were wondering what we were doing and I just lost it.  I was like 'what the hell was I thinking starting this thing? Look at us. I am standing here in 5 inch purple velvet heels that I never would have dreamed of wearing 18 months ago and you're laying on the sidewalk.  What is happening to us?'  We rolled.  It was the best day yet.

So here's the thing about living along the coast - at least in Southern California - you can potentially sit in overcast/foggy weather for hours not realizing that 5 minutes up the street the sun is beaming bright as can be.  Similarly sometimes you leave the house and it's toasty and fabulous only to return to brisk winds and grey skies.  Enter Sunday afternoon...there I was fresh off my flea market finds, all was well in the world.  I swear it was hot outside when we left the house.  Not so much upon return.  Enter breeze, clouds, and even fog.  Thankfully I had my bag to light the way.  Is it summer yet?

This week has been filled to the brim with crazy.  Monday went by in a tax prepping blur as I showed the apartment to what seemed like an endless stream of neighbors I really hope I don't get - here's just a few:

• Teen Mom Candidate
• 20 lb dog lady who wants the beast to lounge on my Moroccan deck.   That's.Not.Happening.
• Guy who has never lived in the same state with girlfriend (does the landlord live here?), but is "sure" they'll get along fine (does the landlord live close by?) even though he really doesn't want her to quit her job (did you say the landlord lives upstairs?) and go back to school.  Do I have any advice on how he can talk her out of it?  Huh?  Oh and btw buddy, I AM the landlord.  No I didn't say that, but boy was I tempted.
• And today's person really took the cake.  Sppppokkkke soooooo slowwwwwly IIIII coooouuuulllld baaaarrreeeellly unnnderrrrstannnnnd hiiiiiim, got all up in my personal space, didn't want to see closet space, individual rooms or anything opting instead to corner me in the hallway to ask:  Do you live here alone?  How long have you lived here?  Does anyone live here with you (uh, already asked that ya cuckoo bird)?  By now I'm officially terrified and looking for something to hit him with when the kicker happens:  A huge moth flies out of his hair (I'm also terrified of moths for some strange reason) and flutters to land on the ceiling...followed by a mid-sized one that goes flying off into my office.  Okay Silence of the Lambs it's time for you to get out.  (At the door he turns and points to one of my pictures:  Isssss thaaaat youuuuu?  Me: Yes.  Him:  You look so much different.  Me:  GOOD-BYE as I shut the door in his face, locking it behind him.  HELP!)

Tuesday I was 25 minutes late to the tax appointment due to Southern California road construction in mid-afternoon.  Why me?  Thankfully Blanket came along to ease my nerves...he was a huge hit at the accountant's office.  Five women huddled around him upon arrival, and people kept walking in and out of the office we were in for four hours just to get a look at him.  It was quite heartwarming.

Somewhere in here I managed to throw on a semi-decent outfit and grab a few pictures.  Thankfully disheveled is in right now.

I awoke Saturday morning in a completely relaxed state. One whole day of sheer nothing ahead of me. Sigh.

Instead of hopping out of bed I lazed about reading the March issue of Elle, which has some of the most beautiful vibrant shoes I've ever seen, to ease into the day. Two cups of tea later the Chef and I strolled out to be greeted by the warmest summer-like breeze we've had since before last summer's deep freeze.  It actually caught me off guard in the best way possible.  Instead of zipping by the beach on our way to brunch we stopped to take it all in - volleyball players, sailboats in the distance, kids jumping in the sand. For a moment winter seemed so far away.

I couldn't have cared less that I was overdressed.  My legs, on the other hand, were screaming out for sun exposure.  Soon enough ladies, soon enough.