beyond the sale

I think I've become overwhelmed by sales. White sales, pink sales, end-of-summer and pre-fall clearances. This morning my inbox offered half-priced Marc Jacob watches and spa services, free samples, free shipping, shoes, dresses, and two different Mad Men-inspired collections from different online retailers. I've been looking at sofas and can't narrow down what stores to consider, nevermind what style, shape, and color to look for.

Maybe buying a house shifted my priorities, or maybe the ease with which we found a house jostled my previously-insatiable desire for marathon bargin hunting -- if we can settle on the biggest purchase of our lives with relatively little searching, why did I spend weeks last autumn considering a purse? And/or maybe recession-driven mega sales throughout retail-land have numbed my synapses to the joy of sale signs.

It could also be that it's 9:45 on a Monday morning, which is not really a time to shop. As underwhelmed as I feel right now, yesterday morning's visit to Buffalo Exchange and Crossroads to sell some old clothes left me with a cleaner closet as well as two new dresses -- two perfect, pretty, well-constructed, irresistable dresses.

Goodbye April budget.

Hello Kate Spade.

Things I Want To Buy

Or, Thing I Want to Buy Based On The Misguided, Consumerist Idea That Weather Changes Require An Entirely New Wardrobe.

Nail Polish: Yesterday, a very tall stranger and I had a long chat about the unavailability of Sephora by OPI nail polish in Metro Chic. It's a dark purpley grey color, and apparently it's all the rage. Like that one time Chanel made a black polish and it was sold out instantly (only this time $9 instead of $20-something). It's the only color of 50-something sold out online. Then the tall stranger looked down at the polish I was holding, the closest matching color, and said, "Oh, and I see you've got the last bottle of that one." I mumbled and looked around awkwardly, then walked to the register quickly.

Tights: Specifically, these ingenious two-toned tights from Chanel. Maybe they are a little theatrical, a little court-jester, but they also seem like a fantastic alternative to the current options of plain black or figure-distorting lace/net tights.

Unfortunately, the real Chanels are $230 dollars. Fortunately, they seem popular and interesting enough that I hope Urban Outfitters or H&M will have a knock-off available by the time the weather actually requires tights.

Speaking of H&M: It opens within walking distance on September 12. I'm two weeks away from the fulfillment of a dream that has waited many years. Equal parts joy and fear that constant proximity will dull the sharp fabulousness of what's been till now only an European and New York experience. But I'm happy to think I'll have more time for museums and friends, being less compelled to madly race around Manhattan gathering cheap stylish garments, when I visit in December.

Giant handbags: I saw two really fabulous, really large, leather bags at Gap in U Village. When I asked the man at the counter when they might go on sale, he said not for a while, if at all. Maybe I will find a friend who can give me a discount. Or maybe someone will think my birthday is actually in early September and buy me an inexplicably generous present. If people will actually pay $230 for tights, anything can happen.

Delusions of pregnancy and grandeur

I lazily caught a crowded bus to U Village yesterday (um, very important business). A man began to stand, to offer me his seat, and I told him, "No, that's OK, I'm getting off at the next stop."

He sat and I considered whether I felt demeaned to be offered a seat. I'm younger that he is, I thought. I'm female, I'm not incapable of standing. It's not like I'm wearing heels, or pregnant.

And then, even worse, I thought, What if he did think I was pregnant?

. . .

Fall fashions at Anthropologie consoled me. I was very good and put back even the cheapest sale items (because who really needs another skirt?) until I saw a small purple jacket. Ooh, clothing! Why do you tempt me? You know autumn especially is my weakness.

I spoke with a sales girl all about the new catalogue. Even better: new Nordstrom catalogue. A gorgeous cover by R. Toledo, and pages flooded with dark, cozy, proper clothing. Long coats and big leather bags, and so much deep purple. I showed Brian a $1,395 Fendi watch with my birthdate on the face. He didn't think it was quite the sign of destiny I did. He also said it looked just like my current watch, which I intended as a sign that I quite like the style. Apparently, to some an established personal taste is redundancy.

. . .

I think the economic downturn, combined by autumn's usual influence toward more conservative, vaguely-academic/equestrian apparel, has driven fashion in a pretty classic direction. No shocking new trends. Magazines discuss purchases that will last a lifetime -- wardrobe investments. Flattering shapes, predictable autumn colors, versatile feminine styles.

I don't mind it at all. As much fun as it is to be intrigued by Balenciaga tulip-shaped skirts, or entertained by a glowing lime green MJ bag, my personal purchases have moved consistently toward things I expect to wear indefinitely. It doesn't always work out (I swear, I always think I will wear that magenta Brooks Brothers coat more often, but then it never seems quite right). But at least I can pay more realistic attention to a catalogue full of wearable pieces than some bizarre show of which designer can make us look silliest by "experimenting with form." I don't want my form experimented with, I want it flattered. It has enough trouble on it's own, apparently (see pregnancy entry above).

Wedding dress shopping

A second and longer round of wedding gown shopping last weekend with The Kennedys. (I must falsely allude that I know a great political family before she changes her name.)

A rare combination of emotion and business, romance and critical judgement, anticipation and leisure. I can see how the many very personal factors influencing this decision could make it a very trying shopping-spree. But Melissa shuffled through ruched and bedazzled dresses decisively, narrowing the piles down to four favorites over the course of three stores. No one sobbed, no one complained that they looked too fat or too thin, no one tried to sell us extra tulle or imported sequins.

Also fortunately, Melissa would look good in pretty much anything, and she picked fairly classic, flattering shapes. It wasn't hard to agree with her choices. There's a decent amount of variety in the gowns, but for the most part they're white, shimmery, and designed to flatter the female figure. The business of weighing pros and cons in this homogenous group sort of tempers the romance.

Not quite so with the bridesmaid dresses. We also visited a bridal party store, and while I wouldn't call the process romantic it was certainly more varied. The tone of the dressing room was almost frantic, outside neat rows of dresses ravaged by clusters of excited ladies. You could hear cameras zooming and clicking through the velvet dressing room drapes.

As the other bridesmaids are in Texas, Manhattan, Egypt, and California, respectively, I was the lucky first to lady try on and influence dress selection. Strapless is good.

When is Brian's turn in the dressing room? I asked Melissa about the groomsmen's clothing, and she waved a hand dismissively and said, "That's all Nate's job!" So possibly I will be in taffeta and he will be in flipflops ...

Weekend.

Lost on Friday with Nate and Melissa. The show has recaptured some of its early quality, with the cabin, the black smoke, and a tightening-up of plot lines. Things are muddled with time changes and mysterious characters, and there are still too many plotlines to cover everything in any one episode, but at least I can recall week-to-week what's going on.

Saturday -- Gym, Costco, long walk with Buster to campus (was as big a fan of the Quad as any sun-bathing sophomore), dinner, The Wire. The first season was striking, but in hindsight a good reiteration of familiar social dynamics. The second is more complex, more original, more gritty. It's really exciting and unsettling to see blue collar culture and organized crime contrasted with inner-city drug trade. A group of primarily white cops chasing primarily black dealers does not make one think in the same was as this mix of Greeks, eastern europeans, and african americans. And one irish american played by a brit, or maybe Australian. I forget.

Today, crepes and thick-creamed coffee at the Rusty Pelican. Along with breakfast cocktails (mimosas), they're pushing the concept of breakfast appetizers -- who needs a cinnamon roll while they wait for french toast?

Then, what I secretly want to do 90% of the time (when not baking cookies): Nordstrom Rack. I was in an unparalleled mood for trying on out-of-season designer clothing, and felt incomparably lucky to wander in just after 10 am and see that the store was unusually neat an tidy. This is what retail looks like before the shoppers arrive. I dove in and started disheveling things.

I small rack of Missoni scarves drew me over at least twice, but though I'm sure it would have been a decent investment, I couldn't part with $50+ for a square of silk. Shoes were iffy -- many so-so summer styles, but instead I left with my first pair of Chuck Taylor's. (A girl at work recently bought her first pair, too, and Friday we shared ambivalence at a style so over-done in high school, and yet so inevitable.)

And then, after standing in the slow slow lines once, I saw one lonely pair of very attractive Marc Jacobs' sunglasses on a sad rack of very unattractive styles (who's really shocked that that weird plastic unibrow style didn't sell well?). Tried on and looked very exciting, and was in line as soon as I saw the price was half normal Rack discount. Unfortunately got the same register girl the second time around -- she didn't seem so surprised to see me again, though.

Much traipsing around downtown, and found a good denim skirt at Urban. Not cheap. But it felt very right when I tried it on.

I don't want to have a sick day.

I don't want to be stuck in the house. I don't want to have this cough and sniffles. I don't want to do any more laundry or match any more socks. I don't want to take out the dog on his every little whim. I don't want to put away dishes or iron shirts or wach Martha or What Not To Wear. I am sick of this whole sick-day business. And while I'm complaining, let me just say that I am very sore from the bevy of squats I did in Total Toning yesterday.

Last night I thought it was a good idea: I'd sleep in, I'd do some chores, I'd sit around in my pajamas with soup and Netflix. It went OK at first, but by 10 am I was grumpy and restless. When Brian said, "I wish I could stay home with you," I thought "Absolutely not! There's no way either of us would be happy after an hour of my grumpiness!" Fortunately he was soon safely on his way to Redmond, and Buster forgets I've just yelled at him within moments.

Update! I decided to put on pants and very big sunglasses and drag my unwanted clothes (from consolidating to make way for fancy new dresser), to the new Crossroads on the Ave. Unshowered and coughing, I was in little shape for public appearances, but I'd heard many good things about used designer bags from the greek system and other fabulous cheapo merch.

I found a J Crew skirt ($11), Ted Baker sandals ($15), and a springy little Hermes tote ($22). Even if the store was 99% fading, cheapo, or boring, these few little finds took only a third of the credit I got when the buyers took nearly everything in my giant bag -- 22 items sold, only 3 teeshirts to take home.

After the little outing, I am OK with pajamas and Netflix.

Vancouver is excellent. I was quite tired of work by the end of last week, and I think the fancy times up here with Brian this weekend, plus the work-related medium-fancy times of the conference the next couple days will be a perfect little break.

Lots of walking around and eating out with Brian. A very disjointed drive up Saturday (stops for UPS, coffee, gas, bagels, lunch with Caitie, waiting at the boarder), then we explored a little, then had excellent tasty dinner + drinks at some bistro between on the cusp of the sketchy neighborhood.

Sunday: breakfast of perfectly almost-over-toasted French toast, then a shoe-buying expedition, then the newly-remodeled aquarium and a drive through the park.

It was chilly, but stayed dry until we found the craft commune of Granville Island -- drizzly is not good for tourism. We forced ourselves to walk through the little village of arts and nicknacks until early dinner. Excellent bread and Canadian peach cider, good crab cake to start, but some kind of weird bits in one of my scallops that I may never get over. If this city has ruined scallops for me, I firmly take back my "Vancouver is excellent."

Today, Pookie left at 8ish, so I got ready for a big day of no plans. Realized I left accidentally sent my umbrella home in the car, so went out and bought a new (and better) one at some drug store. Certainly, in Canada I've heard more sales rep and cashier people with clear recently-immigrated accents than I've ever heard ever in the states.

Tried shopping, but nothing peaked my interest until ... Zara. What a mecca! Everything beautiful! How have I spent years shopping and never seen this place? Everything gorgeous but reasonably priced, trendy but not cheapo, good quality, decent fit. Had to visit the fitting room twice to try everything on. And, wonderfully, went out today thinking of a trench coat, and came back with a perfect one. Love a belted waist and a big collar. Somehow, though, managed moderation and only bought three things: that coat, dark work pants, and a little black casual dress. Has bows at the waist. Possibly I'll be drawn back in for some shoes before I leave -- there were some amazing ones, if only they have my size ...

The Vancouver Art Gallery coat check lady was one of the rudest service people I've ever encountered, and we barely spoke. I can only guess she was jealous of my fabulous hair. The building is lovely -- very nice to see how a piece of classical architecture fits seamlessly in a very modern-architecture city. Some video installation, some tree stuff, much pictorialism that I looked through diligently without being moved. Was worth $15 because I had nothing better to do and it could be considered a donation toward Art.

Finally it was time for some work-related mingling. Flatironed my hair, then went cashless to the foyer on the third floor, where I clinged to the first group of approachable ladies I saw, until I heard the bar was accepting debit cards. Got me a G+T, then clumped with UW advisers till someone suggested we head to the hotel bar. Had another couple rounds and talked about college-related stuff there till someone suggested we go to bed. Now here I am. Typing way past my bedtime.

Weekend of things to wear and eat.

For being three days long, the weekend's been uneventful -- brunch, shopping, baking, movies, and knitting class tonight. But, for uneventful, it's been successful.

Yesterday I found the most fantastic, pefectly-fitted, black eyelet shirtdress, along with an almost-as-exciting Marc Jacobs skirt. After much debate, I went with the dress and -- like an cash-register miracle -- it rang up at half off the already 75%-off price. I took it home and wandered around in it for a while before making dinner.

I've never noticed Kay Unger's clothes before (maker of the shirtdress), but I recognize the name from Tim Gunn or Vogue or somesuch name-dropping fashion media. Looking through the copious lady-like skirts and dresses on her site, I may be a fan (though I'll need more miracles to afford much else).

I love that the clothes are almost entirely dresses -- I wish I owned more, because they required very little matching or planning, and it's easier to spend money on something when you know that's your entire outfit -- no $80 jeans required in addition.

A number of pieces are unappealing, I think because there's a lot of color and print. But many of the more simple dresses are fun without being childish -- in a marathon of juvenile shift and baby-doll dresses, it's nice to see grown-up clothes with waists and everything. The cuts all look very flattering (though anything feels flattering when I can order a size 2).

I also did some cosmetics testing yesterday while downtown. I wanted a new perfume, something very delicious for spring, and was having trouble deciding between replacing my almost-empty D&G Sicily from Berlin and buying something new. Although reviews were mixed on Covet, as they seems to be on every scent, I was barely able to tear my nose off my sleeve when I tried the scent the first time. I tried it again yesterday, and confirmed Spring would be a good time to wear something warm, fun, and edible -- woodsy, sweet Covet it is, and not soapy Sicily.

Also tried Diorkiss glosses after reading many a favorable MakeupAlly review. Awful. Love a Dior Ultra Gloss, but these are too scented (Spicy Guava came off before I could even look in the mirror), too glittery (Fruit Splash left a residue of gritty rainbow speckles worse than a kindergarten craft project), and unimpressive in all other regards - - lack of color, lack of selection, distractingly thick texture, inconvenient packaging. Nevermind, not for me.
___

This morning, I made the most fantastic blueberry coffee cake ever. It's really very amazing. I would have it again for dinner if we didn't already have plans.

I slept through aerobics this morning, but went to Northgate for new workout shoes and pants this afternoon. Very excited to peek through this giant DSW shoe store, but everything was not very thrilling.

30 minutes later at the slightly scummy-feeling Shoe Pavilion, I realized I'd probably never be thrilled by an athletic shoe. But my current bright green Pumas have lost their cushiness, (and when did bright green seem like the best color for my feet?), so I bought a pair of pink and white Asics. More cushy and much more pretty.

Then to Target to complete the ensemble: more workout pants = less frequent need for laundry. Surprisingly attractive for being too comfortable for public. Plus! Wrapping paper. I've only bought two presents and neither have arrived from Amazon, but if you wait too long you get stuck with the ugly snowcreatures and creepy Santas on your gifts.