Category Archives: Fashion

Oooh, I hated the Colonel, with his WEE BEADY EYES

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After my last post, I had a few people grumpily say There is NOTHING good about January, to which I respond, sunnily, There is only a week left!  One week and then we are into February!  So there’s a positive thought for you, even if it is just time tick-tick-ticking away.  Also, tomorrow is Robbie Burns’ Day, for all you of Scottish or partial Scottish heritage.  Time for the annual viewing of So I Married An Axe Murderer, complete with Rod Stewart and the Bay City Rollers impersonations.  My dad is probably gearing up for a Haggis feast right this very second.  I was in the grocery store the other day and noticed this sign:

It’s so cheerful!  Got Haggis? 

Gracious, that’s repellent.  Well, the Scots are not known for their cuisine, that is for sure.  Anyone for some sausage cooked in a lamb’s stomach with a side of boiled potatoes?  OH YES PLEASE.  Has anyone noticed that there is not exactly a plethora of Scottish cookbooks around?  There is a reason. 

So I’m not a fan, of haggis or boiled potatoes.  But each to his own, right?  For example, my husband hates my new hairband, which I think is the cutest thing ever.  It has a bow on it!  And lest you think that I look like I’m about to break into the Good Ship Lollipop, the bow is very small:

I think it’s cute, anyway.  It occurred to me that the gap between what my husband thinks is cute and stylish and what I think is cute and stylish is often very wide indeed.  I do tend to pause, if he has issue with something I think is tres adorable, because after all I do not want to become one of those women who bring to mind the wretched “mutton dressed as lamb” saying.  It’s good to have feedback, even if that feedback isn’t exactly what we want to hear. 

Which brings to mind something I meant to mention last week, but I was too mired in the January Blues.  Kate Middleton is, in my opinion, the most beautiful woman in the world.  What I wouldn’t do for her hair and her wardrobe.  Her shoes!  Anyway, she is, without a doubt, stunning.  This portrait, however, is not:

Now, I’m no artist.  (This is an understatement.  I can draw little stick people, daisies, and a happy little sun and that is about it.)  However, I find myself a bit depressed about this portrait.  If this can happen to Kate, what chance do the rest of us have?  At least her hair still looks fabulous, even though her eyes look strangely dead and she looks like she needs to sleep for twelve hours. 

All of which is to say, feedback is good, even if it is not what we wish to hear.  And yes, I know that Kate was purportedly thrilled with this portrait, and to that I think, well, what is she going to say?  Is she going to threaten to have him beheaded and throw a bucketful of paint at it?  I’m guessing NOT.  I’m guessing she dug deep into her good manners reserves, smiled politely, went home, and berated William with questions “Do I need a new undereye concealer?  My god, why didn’t you TELL ME?” 

Nicole’s Favourite Things, January Blues Edition

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Last week I posted about being blue on Blue Monday, but today it was brought to my attention that TODAY IS BLUE MONDAY.  But I was sad last week!  I’m not sad today!  How can it possibly be Blue Monday if I am not sad?

I know.  I know.  It isn’t all about me.  Maybe some of you are feeling blue?  Well, you have come to the right place, because it is *cue Oprah-audience-like-screaming* Nicole’s Favourite Things, The January Blues Edition!!!

Squee!

January is SUCH a bear of a month, what with the comedown from the holidays and – if you live in a climate like mine – the thought that there is at least, at LEAST, three more months of winter, and often more.  Now that’s depressing.  But!  At least we don’t have to worry about the trains not getting through and grinding wheat and twisting hay to keep warm, am I right?  Plus there are lots of fun things that will help us get through this month.  So, let’s get started, shall we?

Nicole’s Favourite Things – January Blues Edition

I spend much more time outside in the winter than I would like.  I take the dog on long daily walks, I stand in the playground dropping the kids off at school, I stand in the playground waiting for the kids after school, I stand in the playground watching the kids sled and play in the snow and assure me that no, they’re not warm, in fact they are boiling.  In other words, I’m constantly freezing.  This year I bought legwarmers, and they have been life-altering.

Life-altering, I tell you.  They are not at ALL Flashdance-like.  They are long, and woolly, and cozy.  If I could, I would make out with them, I love them THAT much.

After I wrote this, a girlfriend told me about her favourite coat from Eddie Bauer.  She swore that she was warm walking her dog in minus 25 degree weather; she sent me the link noting that a) the coat was on sale for 25% off, and b) it was available in black.  SOLD.

It’s so long and warm, and as a bonus I do not feel like I’m an octogenarian while wearing it.  Plus it’s got a cute hood!

It’s faux fur, of course.  In the course of my winter coat shopping, my husband coaxed me to try on a Canada Goose coat, which he was highly in favour of.  That’s when I found out the grim truth – Canada Goose uses real fur on their coats!  Real fur!  Who does that anymore?  When I told the salesgirl that, sadly, this was a deal breaker for me, she informed me that Canada Goose only uses animals that have died of natural causes.  The bees are doing what now?  I have strong doubts about that.  How is that even possible?  Do they harvest their furs from roadkill?  Do they put animals on little treadmills until they die of exhaustion?  It boggles the mind.

Moving along.  Calgary is a dry, dry climate, and it’s much worse in the winter.  My hands have been known to snag my clothing, they can get so dry and chapped.  I bought this cocoa butter hand cream, and it’s a miracle.  I put it on at night because otherwise I’m not sure I could open door knobs.  The smell is wonderful; it reminds me so much of the cocoa butter stick I used on my giant pregnant stomach to avoid stretch marks.  It always makes me think of how happy I was while pregnant, and I always smile.  Cure for the blues, right there!

And I know, I know, I say something about Bath and Body Works lotion every time I write a Nicole’s Favourite Things, but, as I mentioned before, I’m a lotion addict.  The Brown Sugar and Fig scent is nice and warm smelling, perfect for a cold January day.

I like using shower cream instead of shaving gel; it leaves my legs softer and smoother.  This scent always makes me smile because I have a friend and yoga teacher named Harmony.  I like to think “Stop!  Harmony time!” in the manner of MC Hammer.  Also, it has a really pretty floral scent.

I have not yet seen Les Miserables, although I’m dying to.  I saw the play in the theatre years ago and immediately went out and bought the soundtrack, I loved the music so.  Now, I see movies in the theatre rarely but I’m hoping to make it out before it ends up on Pay Per View, but in the meantime I have been listening to the soundtrack non-stop.  Unfortunately, that means that I have At The End Of The Day perpetually in my head.  Remember that old episode of Seinfeld when George gets Master of the House stuck in his head and is worried about his eventual descent into madness?  It’s like that.

Of course, one thing leads to another, and then I start listening to The Phantom of the Opera.  This is terrible news for my children, as I sing all the parts.  Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say GOOOOOOD byeeeeee.
Speaking of the darling children, they have started karate.  “I know it’s a martial art,” I said to my husband, “But I’m surprised at how much they talk about potential attacks!”  He raised his eyebrows at me.  “You’re surprised by this?”

That last picture makes me nervous.  I mean, Mark is RIGHT by the stairs.  Well, they are all still in one piece, so it’s all fine.

Your turn, dear reader.  What makes you happy during this blue month of January?  xoxo

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PS Every Monday I will be writing about lunches, over at The Ladies Who (Make) Lunch!  I’m so excited about this, I just can’t hide it.  Go check out my first post, about coming home for lunch, and some nice memories from the 80s.

"I think you need a pin, dear."

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I had a rather strange and upsetting weekend, which I am not going to talk about except to say that my role as School Council/ Parent Association Chair is priming me for a career in diplomatic relations.  Or perhaps, given my experiences of this weekend, I can now apply for a job as a very, very low-stakes hostage negotiator.  In any event, I had moments of maybe I should quit this ridiculous job, which was echoed by my husband’s view of when are you going to quit this ridiculous job?  My zen state was severely tested, although I think the situation has now, happily, been resolved, even though the process made me feel simultaneously wrung out and irritated that something so unimportant could take so much time and energy. OM SHANTI.

My zen state was also severely tested by all the swearing in my house this weekend.  Football, you know.  Saturday was fine but the Sunday games left a blue cloud in the living room: Seattle “shit the bed” and the officiating in the Patriots/Texans game was “fucking moronic”.  However, the Pats came out on top, which made my husband happy; I was less so when I realized that we were watching the Patriots’ “Fifth Quarter” when I could have been watching the Golden Globes.  Instead of looking at all the fashion, I was wondering how heavy Vince Wilfork’s Mr. T-style chains were, and if I put them on would I tip over, and also what’s with the hat?  In any case, at some point my husband took pity on me and changed the channel.

I’m no Tom and Lorenzo, but I do enjoy fashion, which is the only reason, save entertaining hosts, (shout-out, Tina and Amy!) that I watch awards shows.  Frankly, I couldn’t care less who wins or loses or what their speeches are like.  I’m into it for the dresses!  And the Botox-spotting, which is always kind of fun in a disturbing, schadenfrude-ish sort of way.

A few years ago I wrote about Sophia Loren and her terrible, terrible plastic surgery, and in response one of my girlfriends said that reruns must be hell for actresses: the constant reminder of what one used to look like.  That comment stuck with me.  If my face was my fortune – which it most emphatically is not – it would be very difficult to see the ravages of time on it.  As it is, I have a hard enough time looking at this recent picture of myself:

Forehead wrinkles and undereye circles!  Granted, this picture was taken mere days after my bout with Norwalk, and a number of sleepless nights due to my children’s bouts with Norwalk, but still.  It’s hard for me to look at, and I’m not exactly a world-renowned beauty.

These days, most actresses are beautiful.  There isn’t much room for “character” actresses anymore; there is so much pressure to be beautiful and physically perfect.  I can understand, then, the impetus for surgical options; I don’t condone it, and I think that such unnatural interventions just look…unnatural and strange at best, but I can understand why an actress would start reviewing her options in her mid-to-late thirties.  Roles start to dry up with the drying up of the reproductive years.  Desperate times call for desperate measures, and if one’s career and livelihood depends on looking younger, thinner, sexier, more gorgeous than the competition, well, then, one must do what one must do.  It’s a sad testament to our appearance-obsessed culture, but it’s a reality.

I came across this old picture of me, circa 1995, getting ready (i.e., drunk) to go out dancing with girlfriends:

Hoo boy!  I had a rack back then.  Even though I appear to be wearing very high waisted jeans, my perkiness is still pretty obvious.  If a perky rack and smooth, youthful skin was my livelihood, you can bet that I would be pretty depressed looking into the mirror these days, what with my deflated bosum and my grey roots and the horizontal lines permanently etched into my forehead, not to mention the network of fine lines around my eyes.  However, it’s not, and I’m not, but that’s not to say I don’t understand the angst that must drive women – and men too; I’m talking to YOU, Kenny Rogers and Sylvester Stallone – to the surgeon’s office.  It’s sad, is all I’m saying.

Speaking of perky racks, I noticed a definite trend last night; that of the deeply plunging neckline.  Can we all agree that this is just not a good look?  I also recognize that it’s important to MAKE A STATEMENT, but if that statement is “I have lots of double-sided tape and also I better not sneeze”, then I’m not sure that’s the one you want to make.  For example:

This would be such a cute look and dress, were it not for the neckline.  The neckline brings it down from glamorous and classy to kind of trashy and slutty.  See also: Sally Field.

Sally, I love you, and I think this dress is gorgeous – EXCEPT FOR THE NECKLINE.  As my grandma would say, “I think you need a pin, dear.  Or maybe a nice brooch.”

Now, Jennifer Lopez is beautiful, and she has a va-va-voom figure, but I really dislike these kinds of dresses, the “nude without being nude” genre.  They remind me a) of figure skating outfits, and b) nylon nighties of the type found in the Sears catalogue.

I don’t think I’m a prude – after all, on the beach I wear tiny little bikinis that, borrowing a phrase from Laurie in Little Women, “reveals a whole new Nicole”, but I think two of the loveliest dresses of the evening were those worn by Adele and by Julianne Moore:

Stunning, am I right?  And no double-sided tape required!  No fear of a wardrobe malfunction, just plain loveliness.

Pajama Jeans, Moose Mugs, and Strange Viruses

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Probably because I had So Much To Do and Remember with regards to Christmas, various school spirit days, the casino fundraiser, and other random things happening this week, I got terribly sick on Sunday.  That will teach me!  I had a strange virus that presented as severe abdominal pain and a fever, and also narcolepsy.  I was awake for perhaps four hours total on Sunday, and those “awake” hours had me lying on the couch, dozing, or crying.  My sole accomplishment was showering and putting on fresh pajamas.  Yesterday, with my husband going to work and me becoming, as usual, the Sole Responsible Adult in the house, I woke up with the hopes of just being able to do the bare minimum, i.e., making sure the kids got to school and back, and making sure they had food. 

It turns out when you set the bar really, really low, you will be amazed at even the minutest accomplishments.  I was so impressed with myself for showering and putting on what Lululemon euphemistically calls “Dance Pants”, but what are actually sweatpants, rather than pajamas that I felt like maybe I could conquor the world.  Sweatpants, or dance pants, are a step up from pajamas, even if they don’t feel any different.  I combined the sweatpants with fuzzy slippers, a long sleeved thermal t-shirt, and an enormous sweater my mother-in-law knitted for me twelve years ago.  What I lacked in style and attractiveness I gained in coziness.  Fueled by my immense accomplishment of showering and dressing, I further roused myself to do a load of laundry, and on investigation of the freezer and its lack of frozen meals, I even made my super-simple pasta sauce.  I’M KING OF THE WORLD!  Then I lay down on the couch to rest, and here’s a question: have you ever tried to watch television during the day?  It’s terrible.  I hoped for at least an episode of The Price Is Right, but no such luck.  No Plinko for me.  Thanks to my husband, who is a sports fan and so Needs Access To Many Different Stations, we have a couple hundred channels, all of which are completely useless to me.  I ended up watching an episode of MASH and falling asleep.  That BJ Honeycutt sure is dreamy.

Today I feel almost totally normal.  I even donned jeans today, albeit my oldest, softest, most broken in pair of boot cuts.  A huge step up from “dance pants”.  On days like today, I kind of wished I had Pajama Jeans, though.  Have you seen the advertisements for Pajama Jeans?  About a month ago, my husband was out of town and I was on the couch, alone with my wine.  I saw this commercial for Pajama Jeans and I became somewhat fascinated with the concept.  Jeans…that feel like pajamas!  Actually, I think they already have those: they are called maternity jeans.  I had a pair of maternity jeans that saw me through massive weight fluctuations, and that I continued to wear for a few months post partum.  They were below-the-belly style, with a giant elastic waistband, and I loved them dearly.  Here I am wearing them, and let’s just keep in mind that this is a full three months before I was actually due with Mark:

 

Three months!  I actually wore those jeans to the hospital three months later:


Not only did they last me through that pregnancy, but I wore them while pregnant and postpartum with Jake as well:

 
 
Those were some amazing jeans.  It makes me think that the Pajama Jean concept is just a rip-off of maternity jeans because hoo boy, those babies were comfortable. 
 
Anyway.  I’m feeling much better, at this rate maybe I’ll even step up to skinny jeans tomorrow.  On the bright side, it’s not the worst thing in the world to lose a few pounds before Christmas, right?  One week to go before I gorge on my mom’s chocolate Yule log.  Heh.  Yule log.  That reminds me of Christmas Vacation: “I don’t have a log.”  Which brings me to this brilliant website, featuring MOOSE MUGS:
 
 
I would buy an entire set of these for my sister-in-law if they weren’t so expensive.  $151 for a set of eight, plus shipping?  Robbery!  The thought is there, though, and that’s what counts, right? 

Nicole’s Favourite Things: Holiday Edition Part 1

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Yes, you read that title correctly.  There will be a part two. 

Despite its darkness, and despite the fact that a) it was minus 12 this morning, b) my hands are constantly purple, and c) traffic and the streets are mayhem, I love December.  It is one of my favourite months; the approaching holidays and associated festivity just make me smile.

And hence a two-part post of my favourite things!  The first post shall be about gift ideas; the second post shall be random things I love about the holidays.

Related: every single time I think of the term “the holidays”, I think of NYPD Blue.  This may seem counterintuitive but if you – like me – are a fan of NYPD Blue, you may remember the famous Andy Sipowicz line, when he is threatening to put “a pole” up “the ass” of some internal agent who is up to “louse up” Lt. Fancy’s career.  “Let’s not quarrel, eh?  It’s the holidays.”  Word.

As always with my favourite things, I am not sponsored by any of the companies I talk about; I received nothing for free.  I just love these things and maybe you will too!

Nicole’s Favourite Things – Holiday Gift Edition

Wine

Nothing says “I love you” or “It looks like you could use a drink” or “How else do you get through family get-togethers?” like a bottle of wine, am I right?  Wine is a very simple and greatly appreciated gift for anyone, other than maybe teetotallers and recovering alcoholics.  I always love receiving wine, and I give bottles to people I don’t know very well but still want to give gifts to; for example, our school’s long-suffering secretary.  All you really need to know is if the recipient prefers red or white, but even then, it’s hard to go wrong.  I buy my wine in bulk from the Superstore liquor store; a $12 bottle of wine has a lot of gift bang-for-the-buck.

Chocolate

Not everybody loves chocolate, but the vast majority of people do.  ‘Tis the season for chocolatey goodness.  My personal favourite is mint chocolate, and number one on my list is a good old fashioned box of After Eights.  My children have inherited this from me; my husband came home with a box on Saturday, as a festive treat and MAYBE to get lucky, and 3/4 of that box is now gone.  I had ONE.  This is why I’m hiding the dark chocolate peppermint Godivas from the children.

I’m also hoping to get some in my stocking (some chocolate, not something something some, if you know what I mean and I think you do).  I haven’t seen any peppermint Lindors yet this year, but maybe Santa will come through for me.  Santa baby, just slip some mint chocolate under the tree, for me.  Been an awful good girl.

Sweaters

Cozy sweaters are a fabulous gift idea, and are simple for the giver: sizing is generally small/medium/large, so it’s forgiving if you don’t know someone’s exact dimensions.  I love a nice cozy (black) sweater, and Jacob has a wide selection.  Ever since I embraced the skinny jeans trend I have also embraced the big flowy sweater.  They are so snuggly and if you happen to have a muffin top peeking over those skinny jeans, they conceal it nicely.  I think this one is super cute:

However, I am probably not getting one for Christmas since I have several drawers that are stuffed full of black sweaters and my husband seems to think that is plenty in the black sweater department.

Sweaters are a nice gift for the man in your life, as well.   

Ha!  I kid.  If I gave this to my husband, there might be a divorce, or at the very least, no one would be getting a “present from Santa” if you know what I mean.  And I think you do.

Lotions, potions, and beauty products

One of my favourite gifts to receive is a bottle of scented body lotion.  Calgary is a very dry climate, add that to going back and forth from dry indoor heat to the dry frigid outdoors, and the semi-obsessive handwashing that accompanies cold and flu season, and I go through a lot of lotion.  I don’t wear perfume, so I like to have nice girly scented lotions; my favourites are from Bath and Body Works, which frequently has a buy three/ get three sale.  My wintry favourites are Twilight Woods, Moonlight Path, and Secret Wonderland, but there are just so many to choose from. 

My views on “natural” deodorants are generally that such products are aimed at smelly hippies, who remain smelly hippies even when using said products.  I dislike the chemicals in regular antiperspirants but have always been a skeptic about natural deodorants.  However, my friend makes these products and now I’m a believer.  One of our mutual friends – who is very athletic – told me that they really do work, and so I was persuaded to try it.  I sweat a lot during yoga, and the deodorant still held up.  In fact, I asked a friend – who is an ANGEL and a very, very good person – to smell me after a sweaty Sunday morning Primary Series, and she said not only did I not stink like a hippie, but I actually SMELLED GOOD.  That should be endorsement enough, I think.

It makes a great stocking stuffer, although it might seem strange to give someone deodorant as a gift – if you don’t know the recipient well it might seem like you are trying to tell them something – but the jar is so pretty!  And the scents come with fun names like Sweet Jane, Sexy Sadie, and Lucy in the Sky.  There is even a men’s scent called – get this – Johnny’s Cash.  Cute!  If you can talk the man in your life into trying a natural deodorant, which is no small feat if you have a non-hippie husband.

Pajamas

There is something so luxurious about a new pair of jammies.  I eschew anything remotely sexy when it comes to sleepwear.  I’m all about fuzzy flannel bottoms and tops that are emblazoned with Snoopy or Hello Kitty.  Part of this is because I just like cozy pj’s, dammit, and part of this is because I like to have my children choose them for me.  It’s amazing I don’t have Star Wars or Angry Birds on my pajamas. 

Jewelry

Is there any woman alive who doesn’t like a nice piece of jewelry?  I have been wearing silver hoop earrings since I was thirteen years old, this year I told my mother I’m hoping for silver stud earrings and I think she fell over.  She kept repeating “You don’t want HOOP earrings?  Silver hoops?”  I’m all unpredictable now, yo.  Last year I had a Pandora bracelet on my wish list and my over-indulgent husband actually gave me two:



The greatest thing about the charm bracelet is that it’s a gift that keeps on giving!  New charms are always a lovely gift idea, for any occasion.

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Looking for more gift ideas than these Nicole-centric ones?  Look no further: my friend Beck put together a list of non-Oprah-like gift ideas last year (full disclosure: I was one of her writers, and you MAY see a few similarities between last year’s list and this one), and for the Trekkie in your life visit my friend Nan’s site. 

So bored! Send entertainment!

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Here we are now.  Entertain us.

Jake is now in Day Two of a cold.  I kept him home yesterday in hopes that it would be a quick recovery, only to have him wake up this morning, worse.  Backfire!  I’m not complaining too much; my kids are rarely sick and rarely miss school.  Even with swollen, watery eyes and a constantly dripping nose, Jake is still a chipper little guy who is currently wearing a Jedi robe and slaying invisible Sith with an invisible light saber.  But I’m getting the teensiest bit of cabin fever.  I had to cancel a few appointments yesterday, and one of those appointments had a 24 hour cancellation policy, which I obviously violated, leading to a fee.  I tried to talk my way out of it, but realized the futility of doing so with the nineteen year old receptionist.  She suggested I bring proof of my child’s sickness to get the fee waived, and I had an image of myself bringing in a giant bag of used tissues.  Here you go! I could say, Three boxes of used tissues. 

The upside of being confined indoors with a drippy seven-year-old is getting the mail.  Actually, I seem to recall getting the mail was a highlight of my day when the kids were small.  Oooh!  Stamps for Mark’s collection!  Oooh!  A magazine!  Oooh!  Flyers!  We got a Bed Bath and Beyond flyer and I don’t know about you, but I cannot even say the words Bed Bath and Beyond without getting all Old School and thinking about a “pretty nice little Saturday.  We’re going to go to Home Depot, pick out some flooring.  Maybe even go to Bed Bath and Beyond, but I don’t know.  I don’t know if we’ll have enough TIME.”

So Jake and I spent some time looking through the festive edition of the Bed Bath and Beyond (don’t know if we’ll have enough TIME) flyer, and I found a steal of a deal.  For only $299, you too could have your very Mixed Drink Maker!  I like how you could choose the “I Feel Lucky” button and get some kind of cray-cray mixed drink!  Party time!

 
48 different cocktail recipes!  Something tells me you could totally save the $299 and just randomly mix drinks yourself, but where is the fun in that?  I’m so curious as to how this thing works, that I am almost willing to actually go to Bed Bath and Beyond (but I don’t have enough TIME) and look at this for myself.
 
I never have enough TIME to go to Bed Bath and Beyond, because it is the most overwhelming store in the world, that simultaneously sickens me and also makes me wonder if I need a sno cone machine.
 
 

Speaking of things that simultaneously sicken and arouse covetous feelings, this Jezebel article about anthropologie is very amusing.  Don’t get me wrong; I am not a hater of anthropologie, although I know that it is a trendy thing to loathe these days.  I like a lot of things from that store – I like their kitchy teatowels and their cupcake aprons and I even like their owl shaped cookie jars, although I would never, ever spend $100 on one – but some of their items are truly ridiculous.  It makes me think that someone over at anthropologie is just creating things as a dare to see what they can get away with.  Do you think someone will pay $3000 for this if we call it a Holiday Hovey House?  FUCK YEAH.  We’re fucking anthropologie!  People will buy anything if we put it on our website.

And while you’re at it, put some of those motherfucking floral grandma crops on there for $138.  Bitches be wild for that shit.

Do me a favour, anyone that covets those pants – check out the Sears catalogue.  You can get that style of pants for a third of the price, with a lovely elastic waistband included. 

And now I’m off to pick up my non-sick child from school.  Having Jake home has reminded me how much simpler life is with two children at home.  “I miss Mark!” Jake said yesterday as we sat snuggled on the couch, watching six episodes of Phineas and Ferb.  “It’s like I don’t even HAVE a brother.  Just a mom.  And that’s sad.”  Why, thank you, Jake!  Last night the boys proceeded to amuse me immensely by comparing themselves to Phineas and Ferb.  “I’m like Ferb,” Mark said “And Jake is like Phineas because he talks so much!”  I hated to break it to them, but everyone talks all the time in this house.  No one is like Ferb.

Fun with the Sears Catalogue

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This was the view out my back door last week:

It has been cold and snowy forever, I think.  In reality it has been more like three and a half weeks, but it feels like forever.  At least the sun came out yesterday, which makes me feel less like stabbing people who complained about the summer heat, and more like taking the kids sledding.

 
 

I am someone who is hyper-organized when it comes to winter gear.  All outerwear is tried on, and necessary items purchased, by the first week of September at the very latest.  This is normally a very good thing: I am ready for when the weather drops twenty degrees overnight, I am not scrambling to find matching mittens, I know that my kids will fit into their designated snowpants.  But recently it backfired: the children’s feet had a sudden growth spurt in late September, and it was difficult for them to get their giant flipper feet in and out of their boots.  Rather than search the mall and become frustrated at the lack of sizes, choices, and temperature ratings, I always order winter boots online from Sears.

I went to pick up my order on the weekend, and there was a lovely cross-section of Sears shoppers at the catalogue office: a young couple buying a bedroom suite, a woman talking excitedly about the arrival of a new grandchild and the need to purchase a crib, a crotchety old man, and me.  The old man at first endeared himself to me by referring to me as “young lady” but then made things uncomfortable by lighting into the lady at the counter about an $0.81 discrepancy on his bill.

It was minus 24 with windchill last Friday, and yet I allowed myself to be peer pressured into walking my dog with my much hardier friends.  I felt somehow that I deserved some sort of medal for trudging through the heavy snow in the cold.  Or maybe I just need a better coat.  The one I have right now is very warm and huge; wearing it is like being wrapped in a comforter, as shown in this (old) picture:

but yet it isn’t quite long enough.  I was mentioning this to my friend, who suggested that perhaps I have reached the stage of womanhood of wearing ankle length, pastel coloured puffy coats, with ruched sleeves.  It occured to me then, not for the first time, that clothing really goes in stages of life, and I am sliding down the slippery slope from “fashionable” to “practical and I don’t care what I look like.”  The next step after that is wearing caftan-type nighties and matching velour housecoats.  




Although maybe not.  I’m more of a pajama girl, anyway. 

It’s funny, though.  I was thinking about my teen and university years, when I would wear miniskirts and crop sweaters year-round, with light jackets and no scarves.  Now I’m wearing the down-filled equivalent of a burkha.  I saw a young girl walk by my house last week, in the bitter cold, with an open jacket, a skirt and BARE LEGS.  I had to hold myself back from running outside and bundling her up.  I see girls like this and I say things – out loud, and directly to said girls – like “Oh dear, you look cold.  Don’t you have some mittens?”  In other words, I have turned into my own grandma.  I sure hope the next step isn’t wearing these:

The first sweater is advertised as a “face-framing” sweater for ultimate face-framing flattery.  The other two are called “fooler” sweaters, and I would like to know why.  Wait.  I just answered my own question – it is due to the “double cross-over collar” which “fools” people into thinking that you are wearing two “shirts”.  I got a little crazy with the quotation marks there, but can you blame me?  That poor blonde woman is staring at me with angst, probably because she is modelling a sweater with cardinals on it.

I’m pretty sure I’ll never wear one of those sweaters – they don’t come in black – but I can’t be sure I won’t be rocking the nursing home in one of these:


That model is WAY too young for a leopard-print tunic blouse.  I can see myself wearing this, with my bleeding lipstick and my super artificial red hair, my open-toed pumps, and these slacks:

There are a lot of pluses to being in the “slacks” stage of life, the biggest one being elastic waist bands.  Although that’s kind of a moot point for anyone who is often found to be wearing yoga pants.  The only difference between these slacks and yoga pants, really, is the fabric.  Another plus to these slacks is that you would never have “whale tail”.  Of course, I’m not sure thongs would be the undergarment of choice once the slacks stage of life has been reached.  I’m guessing the appropriate panty would be more like this one:

 
Or this one, for less fancy occasions:
 

Those are touted as “anti-static panties” which I find very, very amusing for very, very inappropriate reasons.