Welcome To My Bed

Getting restless.

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I cannot stick with one haircut for very long. And while I am somewhat enjoying how my current hair can be manipulated into ponytail configurations (it's been years since such things were possible), I am also itching for something different. Yes, I know I got a haircut in January. It probably has been a little over a month, and I'm already bored. How I've been dating the same guy for over a year, writing the same book for more than two, studying the same thing for basically my entire life is completely beyond me. I guess when it comes to my appearance, I allow myself room to be fickle.

But anyway, this summer when I saw Wristcutters: A Love Story for the first time, I fell in love with Shannyn Sossamon's hair, which I typically do whenever she is anything. I think I just have a throbbing crush on her, but for our purposes, that is besides the point. I am thinking my next haircut will be something along the lines of hers in the movie. But who knows when that will be. I have no idea when we'll be be done shooting pick-ups for James' movie, as we have yet to finish principal shooting. But three weeks from now, when we've essentially wrapped, I'll return to the notion of going short again. Really I'm just pining for my former baldness. I am hopelessly lazy when it comes to styling and other such nuisances.

In other news, I finished my first major needlework project, a dress in in acid yellow. Incidentally, my housemates a throwing a hi-lighter party next weekend where everyone will be required to wear something neon. I feel very well-prepared.

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Recession is NOT the new chic.

I am so tired of the word recessionista. It's not a real word. It makes me want to stab my eyes out with the pick end of my comb.

While sorting the newspapers this morning, I noticed that the Boston Globe ran a fun little article in their lifestyle section about how saving money has now become cool, something to brag about even. I am insulted by this, endlessly insulted. Suddenly everyone who used to be shopping at Barney's is buying their Armani suits on consignment. Big fucking deal. Speaking as someone who has never been able to afford Armani (Exchange or otherwise), I don't understand why the formerly wealthy need to publicly declare a curb in their spending habits in order to be okay with them. And don't even get me started on the way the fashion world is handling the economic slump. I have had it up to here with articles like "50 ways to be a recessionista" or "Tips from a Recessionista: 5 ways to be cheaply chic", which imply that women cannot survive without money and will have to do their best to fake it until they get some cash again. I think I have it on pretty good authority that none of these people would ever go digging through this:

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looking for a bargain. These are the people who think that Beacon's Closet is a bargain bonanza, but I'm pretty sure that selling people's used clothing at the retail prices of the average mall storefront is highway robbery and should not be tolerated.

It's people like this that make me ashamed of myself; they make me self-conscious by drawing attention to themselves. I haven't bought a new piece of clothing in six months, probably even more than that. And here they are, unable to live without famous names on the insides of their t-shirts. Buy gift cards off eBay? I think they should probably save their money until they have enough to buy their souls back from the consignment store.

Un-discovery.

I am kind of obsessed with cardigan sweaters. I can always justify buying more of them because I wear them with basically everything. The sweaters I own that aren't cardigans are seriously under-worn, but all of them are thrifted, so I don't feel too awful about that. Anyway, in performing some maintenance on my Facebook while waiting to be called down to do my scene for the movie still being filmed in the entire downstairs of my house (they've been at it for hours), I ran across this photo from god knows how many months ago.

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And that cardigan (J. Crew via the Goodwill near the Palisades mall in New York state) has since disappeared from my life. And I want it back ASAP. Guess I'll have to go digging through the remnants in my closet when I'm home for spring break.

New friends.

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I bought this bag at Target earlier on ultra-super-crazy-clearance (originally $26.99, now $6.74) and I think it kind of looks like a face. With a monocle. I could just be delirious. The cashier gave me a weird look because I was buying this bag, a set of pens, egg noodles, and frozen crab cakes. With a gift card. But I refuse to be ashamed.

I wish...

...I was in France. Or at least as impeccably dressed as these people.

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I'd love to give credit where credit is due, but I really have no idea what blog I stole them from awhile back. If they're yours, just let me know, and I'll make sure you're mentioned.

At last!

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Huzzah! My glasses have finally arrived in the mail. Maybe now I'll be able to avoid those crippling headaches. Now, if only I wasn't coming down with some awful mysterious sickness, I'd be all set.

Inspiration.

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Even though James Woods' character in Happy Campers is fascinating in all the wrong (and manipulative) ways, I'm kind of obsessed with how she dresses. The knee high Docs with floaty skirts and cut off wifebeaters, the floral arrangements woven into her hair. And good lord, that hot pink eye shadow is giving me chills. I only I was a waify blonde camp counselor. If only it wasn't December.

At least my James is coming down to Jersey tomorrow. Something to be excited about, for sure.

Until then, more Netflix instant watch and lots and lots of knitting.

Post-Christmas shopping.

This morning after Boxing Day breakfast with some very dear family friends, I got dragged to Woodcliffe Lake so that my older sister could pick out a dress for her first New Year's Eve plans in five years. She has been hostessing and waitressing ever since she got out of high school, so this is a big deal for her. I don't begrudge her for the trip; I have just been having a lot of unbearable migraines lately, and today happens to be one of those lovely days. Anyway, we went to White House Black Market, where my cousin David works, and she tried on at least six dresses, to no avail. She originally had her heart set on this adorable black sweetheart strapless dress that is no longer on the website, but decided it was too Madonna for her. I tried it on and loved it, but the 4 was too big, and they had no 2 in stock anymore, which really disappointed me. Not that I needed to buy a cocktail dress. I cannot legally drink cocktails, nor do I have anywhere to wear such a thing, considering that for the bulk of the year I live among hippies who consider me dressed up 24/7 because my favorite boots all have heels. But anyway, we tried to get her to buy this one, but she wasn't having any of it.

After the failed dress-buying attempt, we browsed around the post-Christmas sales at the Gap, Victoria's Secret, Banana Republic, and Anthropologie. The Gap, which for some reason used to be my favorite store, was so disorganized and all the women's clothes had ruffles in odd places. As David described it, everything was so sterile and uninteresting. I usually buy basic sweaters and things there, but even those made me yawn. At Banana everything on sale was marked down an additional 20%, making for saving of up to 70%. Needless to say, I scoured the store for sweaters for James, but they only had two men's sweaters in the whole place, and they were both cardigans, which I know he would never wear. Too much of the women's stuff was made out of satin and/or had bizarrely unflattering necklines. This all made my migraine much worse. Thankfully, I stumbled upon these two beauties, which I clearly could not turn down:

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The first one makes me feels very 1930's, and the second just reminds me of Annie Hall. I am pretty much in love with the both of them. Thusly, I declare today a successful shopping day. Now, if only the headache would subside. I have a fondue date with my friend Sarah. She leaves for Israel on Sunday, and after that, she's spending her spring semester in Mexico. I'm jealous - if I never make it abroad, or even south of the border, I plan on donning the first hat and reenacting scenes from Casablanca to comfort myself. Then I can at least pretend that I'll always have Paris.

Nifty gifties.

I spent last night at Maggie's helping her wrap gifts for her family in Cape Cod, but mostly just drinking rum toddies and telling stories. She and her mom gave my half of my gifts, and I ended up with the coolest pair of rain boots of all time (see below).

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And an Indiana Jones calendar, because I talk about Harrison Ford quite a bit around the two of them. He is one of my only loves.

But the real gift was spending time together, as corny as it sounds. I drove Maggie to Port Authority this morning so she could hop a bus to Boston, where she'll meet up with her dad. It felt weird, standing in the interminable line to keep her company. It was the first time I had ever driven into New York on my own, but that wasn't it really. I just felt more like an adult than I ever have, giving my friend a ride to the bus station. I have to think about it some more to completely process the situation. Maybe I was just out of it. I'm going to use that excuse for not knowing what side of my sister's car contains the gas tank, and getting onto Rt. 1 & 9 instead of the turnpike after I got out of the Lincoln Tunnel. I need a nap. Tonight is midnight mass (against my will) and then late night diner with my dad, a new tradition started last Christmas eve.

Right now we're trimming the tree, which is fun mostly because I get to look at all the ornaments I made in elementary school that have my picture on them. My current haircut is eerily similar to the one I had in sixth grade.

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If I keep wearing these glasses, no one will notice that I'm a Replicant. Although, the fact that it's no longer 1982 might give them some indication that something is afoot.

In less silly news, I have to get glasses for reading (hence the current Blade Runner eye wear - I just had my pupils dilated and will not recover for several hours). I am torn between these two:

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Ray Ban Rx 5112 in Tortoise

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Shuron Freeway in Brown Smoke


Any opinions? I would love either of them, and there is no way I can get both right now.

Winter solstice.

Last night I finally got to see Maggie for the first time since I've been home, and we had such a good time, painting until nearly three o'clock in the morning and listening to the stranger stations on satellite radio. Our favorite was definitely 50's on 5. There was this ridiculous and amazing song about the Garden of Eden, and could you leave a beautiful woman there. I still hold to the belief that it was about resisting the temptation for pre-marital sex. We had a lot of laughs at the things that came on.

I got 75% done with a brand new painting last night, but I can't post it because it's a gift for someone and I'm pretty sure they read this. But I will show you after they've received it (and after it's completely done). I will, however, post a picture of a painting I'm working on for one of my sisters for Christmas. Gifts are making me kind of insane. I have to finish wrapping, then I have some drawings I want to do, and in addition to that, there are stocking stuffers I am putting together for my parents. So much to do! I never thought Christmas would be stressful, but apparently I am getting older, and things in general are just getting more worrisome. Anyway, here's that painting in progress.

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Also, fashion inspiration for eternity -



Are those Yves booties? I have no idea, but they remind me of an Amy Ryan spread I saw recently. Lykke Li is too awesome.

Buried treasure.

At my school, we have this wonderful thing in all of the laundry rooms. It's a very simple concept, but I haven't seen it much before. It is known as the "free pile". People leave things there that they no longer want. It's elementary. However, because I am living in a freshman dorm instead of upperclassman housing for the time being (which will be remedied in January), people don't seem to understand what to do about the free pile. The folding table in the laundry room is engulfed in dingy-looking socks. I don't think that anyone wants someone else's socks. I could be wrong, but I am pretty sure.

Also, there is a girl on my hall who has a cardboard box next to her door that is always full of stuff. I am not sure if it is up for grabs or not, but I take things anyway, because the intention is semi-obvious in that most of the things are really shabby or messed up in some way. She is just too lazy to go down one flight of stairs and dump it in the free pile. Or maybe she's just saving the good stuff for me. Today there was a champagne lace dress with a broken zipper. Easily fixed, and exactly my size. Too perfect. I can't wait to beg my grammy to re-zipper it for me. One of these days I'll get some Doc boots and a mohawk and be all set to raise hell. But for now I'll remain dainty and pretend I did not scavenge a frilly party dress from someone else's refuse.

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I love and hate lazy people.

Only four pages left to write and then all of it is done-zo!

Death of "the Mullet".

All summer long, I refused haircuts flat-out. Because last September, I shaved my head. It has taken exactly a year for things to fix themselves. Not that I didn't love being bald, (it was absolutely wonderful) it's just difficult to enjoy a military-style haircut when it is several degrees below zero in the middle of a New England winter and your favorite wooly hat has gone mysteriously missing, never to be found again. Let's just say I wore a lot of wigs during that time.

Anyway, in my long and storied quest for long(er) hair again, I have run into the same problem in countless different incarnations, one that I can't avoid no matter how much I trim or style. The mullet. I suppose it is inevitable. Bad hairstyles happen to the best of us, and I never intended for it to end up this way the many times it did. But because of the shape of a human skull, the hair on the back of your head growing at the same rate as the hair on top, and other minute details that factor into such a tragedy, I have been guilty of unknowingly stepping out in some really awful fashion over the past six months or so, when my hair really started to exist again. Initially, I would just trim the back of my hair pretty routinely, in a desperate attempt to keep anything horrific from occurring. But somehow, it never helped for very long. Lately, I've just been wearing my hair up all the time, a ponit of great excitement for me, because I haven't had a ponytail in god knows how long. But it made me feel like I was hiding. So this morning, as I usually do during desperate times, I took matters into my own hands. Scissors, a little patience, and voila. No more mullet. I think I can confidently say that it's gone for good.

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It feels good to be out of the fashion "don't" category. Finally.

Time warp.

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Finger waves and a flannel shirt...yes, I am that classy. Before I was dressed up like a World War II USO girl, and I felt the heavy hairstyling to be apropos for the outfit. Maggie was having an art show where a lot of her stuff was pin-up themed, and I felt inclined to match her paintings. But mostly I just relish any chance to get dressed up. Today I went visiting some old friends in a pencil skirt and wedges. I looked very Twiggy. Fashion icons have infected my life. Maggie keeps calling me Carrie, but I never even watched Sex and the City, so there is really no explanation for all of my sudden obsession with being fashionable, especially because most days nobody really sees me.

Anyway, I guess this is leading up to a list of my fashion inspirations currently. I wish it was easier for me to think of them.

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As if pin-up girls didn't have something to do with every woman's look right now. The whole high-waisted, very tailored and deliberate kind of style that we are saturated in has a lot to do with these ladies. But my own current interest in tattoo culture has a lot more to do with my love of pin-ups and the way they dressed. I guess the whole accidentally-on-purpose sexuality thing has always been a favorite aesthetic of mine as well, because I've never thought of myself as overtly sexy. Everything with a wink and smile. And killer heels never hurt. To look at.

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In following with the above, Gwen Stefani has always been someone who I have adored down to the very finest detail. She wears whatever she thinks looks good, and even if it is heinous, somehow it looks good on her. The way that I see it, if you can't wear the things you love, then what's the point in getting dressed at all? And she has branded that. Kudos. She has cycled through so many different looks, and I can definitely say that I own several thrift store dresses like the ones she was wearing in the mid-nineties, and that I wanted to dye my hair pink for what seems like to long a period of time in hindsight. To me, she can do very little wrong.

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And a departure of sorts, Samaire Armstrong. I love love love her. When I watched the OC in high school ( the first season anyway), she was the real reason. Adam Brody was awkward and adorable, and sometimes I dress like him too, but her clothes were fantastic then, and they are fantastic now. I started cutting my own hair because she said she only cut her own hair in an interview I read once. Before reading it I had never thought anyone would do such a thing. I love her as an actress, but the way she dresses just makes me happy. It's so real. And effortless. I hope to look that way, even half as good.

Other than that, I dress myself pretty haphazardly. With bits and pieces of input from Maggie. But the vast majority of what I wear is just utterly ridiculous. Some of my favorite articles of clothing were dug out from the bottom of a large pile of clothing meant to be bought by the pound at the Garment District in Boston, or at the various thrifting locations I frequent with my hard-earned cash. So many out-dated dresses and strange sweaters. Winter is one of my favorite things ever, barring sale racks, because I love layering more than I love a cigarette before bed. I like feeling like I'm wearing someone else's history in my sleeves, letting it mingle with my own, if only for a little while.

Settling in.

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I cleaned my room from 10:30 this morning until about 4:30 this afternoon. And then I watched the news, followed by my first time cooking for anyone since I've been home. My family was very happy with my chicken casserole skills. If all goes according to plan, I'll be moved back into my real room by this weekend.

I was supposed to go see X this Saturday night with Maggie and Sherry, but my mom put me on the schedule to work that night and I am not all that happy about it. I mean, if I'm there I get paid, and I have to work Sunday morning brunch anyway, but I'm still upset, because I made these plans the night I got home from school, and now they probably aren't happening. I really wish I had found a second job this week instead of doing intensive cleaning and sorting for the garage sale, but I guess things happen the way they're meant to. As of right now, I have eight or nine bags of things to sell and I also threw out about five or six bags of garbage. I didn't know I owned so much stuff. Or I guess I just didn't realize I had so many things I was willing to part with.

I started sewing a dress last night out of some sheets I bought the other day at a tag sale, along with these fantastic lockets.

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I love shopping at places where everything must go by the end of the day, the discounts are impossibly amazing. I'll post pictures of the dress when it's all finished. I'm basing it on this amazing Kimchi and Blue dress that Urban Outfitters had last summer that I was absolutely in love with but couldn't bring myself to spend $80 on. Making things myself is so much more fulfilling anyway.

I can't wait to be back in my natural habitat.

Vacations of olde.

My sister, the one who I'll be moving in with in a couple weeks, just called to ask me if I remembered family vacations from when we were little and how the houses always had like eight decks and how our grandpa wouldn't let us onto the deck unless we asked, "Permission to come aboard!" I countered with asking if she remembered how we used to have performances from those very same decks, which we would make our parents and relatives watch from the driveway. I remembered, and so did she. I told her that we should repeat these same behaviors this summer on the next family vacation. She laughed and told me she had to get ready for work.

All of this really makes me want to go to the beach. But I need to buy a new bathing suit first. Is it practical to spend $40 on such a thing? I really want this one from Victoria's Secret but I'm not sure I should spend so much...

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But it's so cute...I don't know. None of my suits from last year really fit me. We'll see. I'm working a lot this week, and hopefully I'll make good money. Tonight is an engagement party for some pretty wealthy people, so I hope they're big tippers.