I've never been a fan of the antiquated can't-wear-white-shoes-after-Labor-Day rule. For cryin' out loud, it's hard enough for a tall chick to find cute white shoes and now I can only wear em' four months of the year? No.
My quick Google search for reasons behind this unofficial fashion rule cited temperature and some blah-blah-blah about the color white reflecting light. In the summer, this of course keeps you cooler, but in the winter, it also makes you colder.
So, I'll put on some wooly socks. Big deal. Light reflection is not enough to convince me of the evils of wearing white shoes after Labor Day.
Another reason cited was etiquette. Perhaps I'm a little over-attached to my fabulous white heels but if me wearing white shoes in November offends you, we're probably not going to be friends anyway. And, I'm okay with that.
I'm going to continue wearing my fabulous white shoes right on thru fall. Who's with me?
Monday, September 7, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Confession time: I don't like Twitter. Yes, we have a KAT Clothing account (@katclothing) and yes, every major biz publication is writing about how fabulous Twitter is, but I'm not drinking the Kool-Aid.
You're supposed to post stuff throughout the day that answers the question, "What are you doing?" But, here's the deal: I'm just NOT that interesting. And, I don't want people to know if I'm getting my hair colored. (I don't. This is natural.)
And, when I hear ridiculousness like Ashton Kutcher and CNN racing to see who can get 1 million Twitter followers first, I think, "Aren't there two wars going on? Shouldn't CNN be covering THAT?"
Admittedly, I'm a notoriously skeptical adopter of things like Twitter. I rolled my eyes at Facebook and now I'm pretty much a junkie. I wasn't much of a texter (see Teribl Txtr) and thanks to my new Blackberry, I'd much rather text than talk on the phone.
So, there will likely come a time when I think, "How did I live without it?" But for now, even the name "Twitter" annoys me.
I'm not always this crabby.
You're supposed to post stuff throughout the day that answers the question, "What are you doing?" But, here's the deal: I'm just NOT that interesting. And, I don't want people to know if I'm getting my hair colored. (I don't. This is natural.)
And, when I hear ridiculousness like Ashton Kutcher and CNN racing to see who can get 1 million Twitter followers first, I think, "Aren't there two wars going on? Shouldn't CNN be covering THAT?"
Admittedly, I'm a notoriously skeptical adopter of things like Twitter. I rolled my eyes at Facebook and now I'm pretty much a junkie. I wasn't much of a texter (see Teribl Txtr) and thanks to my new Blackberry, I'd much rather text than talk on the phone.
So, there will likely come a time when I think, "How did I live without it?" But for now, even the name "Twitter" annoys me.
I'm not always this crabby.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Tie one on
In the August issue of Lucky magazine, one of the writers discusses her love of neckties.
Ugh. There are certain clothing fads I participated in that I don't like to discuss. (Did someone say knickers? Mine were cranberry corduroy.) It's like a hidden family secret that's not to be mentioned. And, if someone dare bring it up, say at the dinner table, I give them that "shoosh" sound followed by a no-nonsense glare, a request to pass the salt and a quick subject change. There, crisis averted.
For a period of about 8 months in 3rd or 4th grade, I wore ties. I don't know why. I don't know where it came from but I thank God the urge has never returned. They sure as heck didn't look good. But, I loved wearing them with this pinky-peach cardigan I had and a white collared shirt.
My favorite tie was navy blue and had birds on it. Yes, I said birds. And, no, I'm not really an animal lover. I think the tie was my favorite because it was given to me by my grandfather's "special lady friend," Rose. (At our house, special lady friend is code for geriatric love.)
I can't be the only one who participated in this fashion travesty. Did anyone else wear ties? Or, better yet, what other fashion trends did you support that you'd rather forget?
Come clean. You'll feel better.
P.S. For the record, jelly shoes are off-limits. I never wore em' because they didn't make my size. And, I've never recovered.
Ugh. There are certain clothing fads I participated in that I don't like to discuss. (Did someone say knickers? Mine were cranberry corduroy.) It's like a hidden family secret that's not to be mentioned. And, if someone dare bring it up, say at the dinner table, I give them that "shoosh" sound followed by a no-nonsense glare, a request to pass the salt and a quick subject change. There, crisis averted.
For a period of about 8 months in 3rd or 4th grade, I wore ties. I don't know why. I don't know where it came from but I thank God the urge has never returned. They sure as heck didn't look good. But, I loved wearing them with this pinky-peach cardigan I had and a white collared shirt.
My favorite tie was navy blue and had birds on it. Yes, I said birds. And, no, I'm not really an animal lover. I think the tie was my favorite because it was given to me by my grandfather's "special lady friend," Rose. (At our house, special lady friend is code for geriatric love.)
I can't be the only one who participated in this fashion travesty. Did anyone else wear ties? Or, better yet, what other fashion trends did you support that you'd rather forget?
Come clean. You'll feel better.
P.S. For the record, jelly shoes are off-limits. I never wore em' because they didn't make my size. And, I've never recovered.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
My girls
I have three best friends. Two of them, I've known since I was 13. My other best friend is my sister.
I absolutely treasure the history I share with these three women.
Though they all live in different cities, in the last month, I've been able to spend time with each of them. And, it has brought me tremendous joy.
When I sit down with them, it all makes sense. Things I couldn't articulate suddenly become clear. Doubts erase. Memories come flooding back. And, the hours fly by like minutes.
When we leave, there are always tears in my eyes. The kind of tears you get when you care for someone so much and you have so much history that your heart kinda hurts and words can't explain it.
Man, I love my girls.
I absolutely treasure the history I share with these three women.
Though they all live in different cities, in the last month, I've been able to spend time with each of them. And, it has brought me tremendous joy.
When I sit down with them, it all makes sense. Things I couldn't articulate suddenly become clear. Doubts erase. Memories come flooding back. And, the hours fly by like minutes.
When we leave, there are always tears in my eyes. The kind of tears you get when you care for someone so much and you have so much history that your heart kinda hurts and words can't explain it.
Man, I love my girls.
Friday, June 19, 2009
My dad
I have an awesome dad. Sure, he always has the TV on too loud, tells really bad jokes (something about watermelons going to John Cougar MELLENcamp's for the summer) and most of the time, I look at his outfits with a furrowed brow, but the man really does rock.
As an adult, you think you know everything about your parents. Because, after 30+ years, how could there be any more secrets, right? But, my dad continues to surprise me.
Last week he told a story about the Chicago race riots in the late '60s. The city was a hotbed of racial tension. He saw a black man leaving a building and realized this guy would have to walk through a mob of white men – who’d been drinking -- to leave. Seeing where this was going, my dad stood next to the black man, walked out of the building with him and there was no incident.
His commitment to doing the right thing has always been a powerful example to me.
Every parent knows that sacrificing time, money and opportunities comes with having kids. And, my parents certainly sacrificed for my brother, sister and me.
But, my dad started supporting his family in high school. There were often strikes at the phone company where my grandfather worked. But, a labor dispute doesn't stop rent from being due or the electricity bill from arriving. My dad worked thru high school to support his three sisters and parents.
I wonder what it would have been like to go to work for my family after school instead of basketball or volleyball practice. Because of my dad and his hard work, I never had to know.
I don't want this post to sound too Hallmark or mushy but I have a really great dad. He's wise, generous, funny (sans the watermelon joke), loving and most importantly, always makes time for me and my siblings.
I hope your dad is like my dad.
As an adult, you think you know everything about your parents. Because, after 30+ years, how could there be any more secrets, right? But, my dad continues to surprise me.
Last week he told a story about the Chicago race riots in the late '60s. The city was a hotbed of racial tension. He saw a black man leaving a building and realized this guy would have to walk through a mob of white men – who’d been drinking -- to leave. Seeing where this was going, my dad stood next to the black man, walked out of the building with him and there was no incident.
His commitment to doing the right thing has always been a powerful example to me.
Every parent knows that sacrificing time, money and opportunities comes with having kids. And, my parents certainly sacrificed for my brother, sister and me.
But, my dad started supporting his family in high school. There were often strikes at the phone company where my grandfather worked. But, a labor dispute doesn't stop rent from being due or the electricity bill from arriving. My dad worked thru high school to support his three sisters and parents.
I wonder what it would have been like to go to work for my family after school instead of basketball or volleyball practice. Because of my dad and his hard work, I never had to know.
I don't want this post to sound too Hallmark or mushy but I have a really great dad. He's wise, generous, funny (sans the watermelon joke), loving and most importantly, always makes time for me and my siblings.
I hope your dad is like my dad.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Eww de Parfum
People, I can't make this stuff up.
Riding in the car last week, a girlfriend of mine started fishing through her handbag for a little jar of Vicks VapoRub. She put some on her lips and under her nose. Honestly, I was so busy putting on my own lipstick that I barely noticed.
When we arrived at the destination, she asked if there were any white traces on her face from the Vicks. I told her no. To which she responded, "I'm sorry, your perfume is just too strong for me."
(Insert sound of screeching noise.) Wait a minute -- what? My perfume is so strong that the best alternative is to slather Vick's on your face? Seriously?
Now, I'll be the first to admit, I over water my plants and I tend to over spray on perfume. But so much so that my friend would rather inhale menthol?
LOL. I don't even know what to do with that.
Riding in the car last week, a girlfriend of mine started fishing through her handbag for a little jar of Vicks VapoRub. She put some on her lips and under her nose. Honestly, I was so busy putting on my own lipstick that I barely noticed.
When we arrived at the destination, she asked if there were any white traces on her face from the Vicks. I told her no. To which she responded, "I'm sorry, your perfume is just too strong for me."
(Insert sound of screeching noise.) Wait a minute -- what? My perfume is so strong that the best alternative is to slather Vick's on your face? Seriously?
Now, I'll be the first to admit, I over water my plants and I tend to over spray on perfume. But so much so that my friend would rather inhale menthol?
LOL. I don't even know what to do with that.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Overexposed
This week, I put on a show for all the ladies at the local TJ Maxx. I was shopping for spring shirts when I was confronted with the terrible truth: The dressing room doors literally hit me at the bust. And, I was wearing flip-flops.
Sigh.
First thought: “I guess we’ll find out who brought their dollar bills.”
Second thought: “I’m hungry. Did I bring a snack?”
Third thought: “I hope no one puts this on the Internet.”
Then, I went to work. I strategically selected my dressing room away from the entrance. (We wouldn’t want a mob scene, right?) Made sure there were no cameras to entertain the elite TJ Maxx security team. Practiced my best bob-and-weave every time someone walked by. And, 20 shirts later, made a mental note that the TJ Maxx dressing room design team had to consist of the shortest people in the world.
Sigh. It’s going to take some time to recover from this traumatic experience.
Sigh.
First thought: “I guess we’ll find out who brought their dollar bills.”
Second thought: “I’m hungry. Did I bring a snack?”
Third thought: “I hope no one puts this on the Internet.”
Then, I went to work. I strategically selected my dressing room away from the entrance. (We wouldn’t want a mob scene, right?) Made sure there were no cameras to entertain the elite TJ Maxx security team. Practiced my best bob-and-weave every time someone walked by. And, 20 shirts later, made a mental note that the TJ Maxx dressing room design team had to consist of the shortest people in the world.
Sigh. It’s going to take some time to recover from this traumatic experience.
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