well if it ain't felony melanie

My favorite Reese Witherspoon haircut: "Sweet Home Alabama". I'm going to alter it, though, so it doesn't have so much high-maintenance layering in the back. Sides I can handle. Sides I can reach with a flat iron. The back - forget it.

I hope I can hold out till next Feb. because I really want my hair long for the wedding - and although Fox heartily encourages them, I don't want extensions.

curiouser and curiouser

I have to continue to blog about the website/concept that is Bag Borrow or Steal. I tried to keep my squeals to a minimum when talking to Mart, but I guess I did a pretty poor job because S pounced the minute I got off the phone.

"What's up?"

"Oh. Um. Matthew got me a Bag Borrow or Steal Membership for my birthday." [My best This is Great News! smile, with added sunshine for good measure.]

"Bag Borrow or Steal ... what's that?"

[Explain mind-boggling concept; toss in a few extreme examples.]

My fiance actually got up from his video game and sat down across me at the table to ask, "Okay, how much is this going to cost us, monthly?"

[Blink, blink.]

"Well, I won't be spending your money."

"I know, but -"

"Or wedding money."

"Because we have to -"

"Save money. Looky, I've got a $9 Juicy en route right now, and that is courtesy of my brother as part of my birthday package. It's not a crocodile Birkin. It's not even a Louis" [because there is currently a wait for every LV item on BBOS. I blame it on Sex & The City.] "... so relax."

"NINE DOLLARS A WEEK?!" [Commence with the head-shaking.] "I don't understand this ... thing. Must be a girl thing."

"As sitting motionless for hours upon end in front of one of a plethora of $65 video games that promotes gratuitous violence on a $400 console may just be a guy thing. But hey, I can dig that. So."

And that was the end of our conversation about BBOS. I don't have uncontrollable spending issues (in fact, I'm pretty damn good with money, as I carried the entire mortgage and all bills - and remained in cute shoes - for the first year and a half of our relationship because I didn't want to part with even a modicum of ownership) so I know it's not my spending that's of concern here. Purses simply strike fear into the hearts of men. Even the cheap ones can look expensive. And who wouldn't fear the structure BBOS runs on?

It is definitely not for the faint of wallet. Contrary to what was suggested by SATC's Louise from St. Louis BBOS is not for those who can't afford to buy the latest Louis Vuitton, Hermes, Gucci, Tod's, etc. BBOS is for those who have so much money that they can afford not only to purchase any bag that tickles their fancy, but to shell out way more on a weekly or monthly basis for the sheer kicks of novelty. Think about it - it costs $94/wk to rent a Chloe lambskin tote <-- totally gorgeous. Click! $94 is a huge chunk of change to spend for the pleasure of spending seven days with a (politically incorrect) bag, even one as beautiful as the Chloe.

So. I am enthralled that I have access for 365 days to member rental prices at this crazy, ultra-hedonistic, bizarre bazaar of beautiful bags. I have a fiscally responsible head on my shoulders, so I'm not worried about myself, but I am so curious: Who are these people who have checked every last Louis Vuitton purse out of the handbag library? Who are the women who will pay $27/wk to rent a pair of Dolce sunglasses, or $31 for a Fendi acrylic bracelet? These are obviously women with serious money (or serious issues). Maybe it's the new, wearable Vogue:

"When I first moved to New York and I was totally broke, sometimes I would buy Vogue instead of dinner. I just felt it fed me more." - Carrie

Well, this blogger (Carrie-centric as she is) would never sacrifice dinner for fashion, but it certainly won't hurt to pool what I'm saving by not drinking soda or eating fast food and putting my nickels and dimes in fantastically cute purses, one week at a time. I can ooh and aah over a thousand-Simolean Louis, but I love me a $9 Juicy and I can't wait to blog my first Borrow.

In the meantime, laugh at the Louis Vuitton for the discerning '90s rapper-slash-redneck. In the words of Jack Effin' Twist: Woo WEE!!!

mar(t)velous!

If, in order to access handbags of every ilk - ghetto fab to vintage couture - via a totally ingenious web company that allows one to borrow said fashion, one must admit that 30 years have gone by since one's entrance into this wonderful world, then so be it. I'm 30. Now show me the Dooney.

For my birthday (which is actually not until next month), my ultra-cool brother got me a 1-year membership here. It is a mind-blowing concept - these people must make SO much money - and while my inner Chinese sensibilities kick and scream at the thought of renting couture, my Carrie sensibilities have already assembled a wishlist twelve items long.

I may refuse to borrow books (I really hate not owning my reading material) but I have nothing against borrowing accessories. Looking at the price tag of a super high-end rental does hurt my corneas, but were I ever at a point in my life where I desired - nay, deserved - to carry a Birkin or one of its peers, I would surely make a point to own it. Bag Borrow or Steal is strictly for the joy that is carrying a different, lovely bag every month. Without the space issues.

Habberdaytumi!

my ikea bedroom

Sent by Vickie

verdetto: MOLTO SCARSO

It takes at least two people (or some complicated, ingenious rigging of clothesline and pins) to effectively ItalSteam a garment. The reason is because it only functions properly when held vertically. You don't need a board, which is supposed to be convenient, but the lack of a solid surface behind the garment is just an annoyance because it's hard to press the steamer against, well, nothing. So to effectively dewrinkle the shirt, you need to hang it vertically from a bar and have someone hold one side while you hold the other, pulling the fabric taut as possible. If there's just you, it takes three times as long (and no small degree of dexterity, flexibility, and patience) to ItalSteam it than it does to iron it the regular way. The only nice feature about ItalSteam is that if you have to re-use a pair of jeans or a shirt, you can freshen it up nicely in a jiff. But if it's wrinkles you're concerned with, just take the time to iron it.

After failing to steam Scott's work shirts with the same ease as Stupid Kiosk Guy, I tried a few of mine with slightly greater (but not total) success, then got bored and tried to steam the wallpaper off the bathroom wall. (Wasn't happening.) Went back to shirts, but eventually got mad at the small wrinkles that wouldn't go away, and lugged out the ironing board, the Black and Decker, and all of my shirts plus one of Scott's. I probably ironed more extraneous creases into the garments than out of them, but whatever, at least the changes it made were visible.

The verdict on the ItalSteam: Don't throw away your ferro.

ItalSteam: preliminary review (and small follow-up rant)

I bought an ItalSteam from the Miracle Mile shops in Vegas (formerly the Desert Passage, I believe). <-- I do believe that's a "before" pic. The smooth-talking kiosk operator failed to mention that you need to add salt to the tap water, but other than that, it's just as he promised*. Lightweight, no muss, no board, no fuss. I guess I'll add "press shirts" to my short but growing list of wifely duties, which otherwise includes "make lasagna three or four times a year," and "stop spending like a fiend on things which benefit my eye for candy alone."

*Erm, it is just as he promised because in the mall I was pulling on one side while he pulled the other side, making the fabric taut and easy to deal with. Also, when steaming my dad's shirts, same thing. But what happens when no one's there to pull the fabric for you? Nothing happens. Or you try pulling it with one hand and end up burning your fingers with the steam. Nice. I should also mention that the initial power-up makes my bathroom lights flicker.

Send colorful complaints and stories of blown fuses to thatdamnedcat@gmail.com.

wish v were here

I know Charlotte Russe is for 16-year-old tarts and Dress Barn is for nice old ladies, but I can't resist ducking into either one on an outlet spree. I have this collection of clothes and accessories at home that never get worn, but that I love enough to be happy they're just hanging in my closet. The bohemian paisley orange creamsicle dress. A belted, tunic-length, sheer beige cover-up from Banana Republic. Endless faux Pashmina scarves. A knot-front yellow chiffon thing, too long to wear with pants, too short to be a dress. An asymmetrical tube top. (Okay, there is no love for the asymmetrical tube top - that was purely experimental.)

I really try to keep function-less clothing purchases to a minimum, but now and then I just can't resist (especially if the object of my desire is 70 percent off Cheap to Begin With.) Tomorrow I'll take a pic of my newest puzzling acquisition. In the meantime, it's 1 a.m. and I seriously need sleep.

it's not spray punch punch*

My first piercing, age 3. There are no photos to go with this story, only the story itself. I was a chubby toddler who could probably have been coaxed into jumping off a cliff, had enough ice cream been promised beforehand. My godmother proposed ear-piercing to my mother, who refused to take me (or be a witness) herself. However, she was more than happy to let my godmother (her sister) take me. And as legend has it, all she had to do to get me to permit a total stranger to punch holes in my ears with something she casually referred to as "a gun," was offer me one scoop of ice cream for each successful mutilation. Sold. Two gold studs and two scoops of Baskin-Robbins later, two lifelong loves were born: piercings and chocolate ice cream.

When I was 12 or 13, I got the second set of holes done - and this time, I led my hip but aging godmother to the booth. We got it done together. Unfortunately, the not-so-bright bulb at 14 Karat Plum pierced my right ear so near the edge that any and all earrings look stupid worn on level 2. So I don't wear any.

College - 3rd year I think - my finals were done, I had time on my hands, and so my friend Jessica and I skipped off after work to Paragon to get our navels pierced. I LOVED it. And still do.

Throughout the years between, I did random cartilage piercings in my ears (at Claire's, for the most part) that I got tired of and allowed to close. In 2004 I went to Vegas and got my tragus pierced. In 2006, V and I, on a total whim, schlepped down to Hawaiian Tattoo Co. and walked away in ... pain. It was my most subversive, least-loved, shortest-lived, most talked-about piercing yet. I did like it - quite a lot actually - but decided yesterday that it was time to trade it in for something tamer.

So, there ya go. <-- That is not the finished piercing, obviously (although I have been considering the "Industrial" since grad school). The finished piercing is a "conch" piercing: a cartilage piercing that wraps around that whole lower-ear section. Because Diamond Farrar, the piercer, knew exactly what I wanted in terms of size and material, the end result is very cute. (I don't have pictures to prove this claim. Alas, alack.) And with that, and this, that makes two of us that are done. (Except I'm keeping mine.)

*Anyone who can figure this one out deserves a prize. Unfortunately, I don't have one to give you, but you deserve one anyway.

i can't wait

zapatos

Right: My absolute hands-down favorite going-out shoes (VS, black patent stils). Since I walk hard (no Dewey Cox jokes please), I wear my shoes out pretty quickly, so it's a rare occasion that these get taken out. I'm a big fan of Victoria's Secret shoes (mostly because I so love shopping from home.) I've ended up with a few real bummers (a beautiful pair of 4-inch heeled cocoa pumps, for instance, that will not stay on my feet) but for the most part have been very happy with my purchases.

Below: My first lace-ups, from Journeys @ Ala Moana about 3 years ago. They're not of the greatest functional design, and are very hard to walk in. But they spark a fond memory - of the time I decided to wear them with blue paisley cabana pants to Starbucks one summer evening when I still lived at home. It was the first time I looked in the mirror, knew I fell into the Weird bin, and left the house happily anyway. So the shoes are a permanent fixture in my collection.

Played with my shoes for about an hour this afternoon, in lieu of a nap. I'm so deep into Summer Mode already ...

speaketh ye parseltongue?

Words can probably not express how much I love this shoe (unless "Eeeeeeee!" is a word.) I thought I was way over the animal print thing, but I was wrong. Notice the heart-shaped buckle, please (which, by the way, is silver, not gold as the picture suggests).