purple reign

Fact: My school colors are purple and gray. Fact: I am overflowing with school spirit. Subjective observation: I own a lot of purple clothing.

At left, a small sampling of the purple, plum, grape, lavender, periwinkle, and otherwise violaceous clothing with which I bedeck myself on school days and weekends alike. I wear a lot of black and a lot of white as well as fail-proof black-and-white combos, but the purple spectrum is heavily represented in my color pieces.

Side note: Not long ago I went through a Banana Republic naturals phase but decided life was too short to wear taupe. Next to the purples, my closet is home to a pretty decent population of green-blues.

Anyway, as we prepare to move, I'm doing mini-closet excavations, paring down the bulk of my wardrobe by forcing myself to admit that I never wear a lot of this stuff. (Not this stuff. My purples get a lot of mileage. The other stuff.)

I've found that it saves hangers and closet space to pre-assemble and hang entire outfits. Jeans, mulberry top, cardigan. One hanger. Ruched cami, lavender plaid, cropped pants. One hanger. The downside is not always being able to find that cami, or having to unlayer everything if I want to wear that particular pair of jeans with something else.

Next to packing up my books, the scariest thing about moving is knowing that I will have one - count it, ONE - tiny-ass closet to shove all of my clothes in. How tiny is tiny? Compared to the current one, which I could comfortably do jumping jacks in, it's painfully small. Cub is set against bringing the free-standing closet organizer because of a lack of space in our new place.

** Life-rumination interlude**

We are in such a weird place in our lives right now. Good, but weird. It seems like "everyone" around us is on their second kid (or first divorce, or both), but we have consciously decided not to start a family until next year. Sometimes this makes me feel panicky, like I missed my bus or something, but then I remember that I asked for this time, and that there's another bus next year. I asked for this goal, this marathon, this column, this challenge. I declared it my goal, I asked for the column, and I got what I wanted. "Everyone" around us is moving into bigger places, but we are scaling back, moving into a place that is much older, and despite comparable square footage, somehow much smaller, so that we can rent out my condo and start some serious savings. Again, we asked for this, and again through the grace of God we got what we wanted. It's just such an odd feeling sometimes that the second year of our marriage is proving much humbler than our actual beginnings. While we go through all this change - this downsizing, this dance of unending compromises, this slow and continuous searching for what is truly important - I know we will be happy, but I hope that I will also be well-dressed. I'm studying these closets and having some pretty serious doubts about that.

But I know this much for sure - I will not become Taupe Girl. Ever.

O Candied_cat, where hast thou been?

Between teaching for dinner and tutoring for dessert, fashion show nuttiness and RAP Thursdays, car woes and marathon training (hey, those two sort of go together!), writing a column and tweeting every third annoying thought that bounces through my overcrowded brain, I haven't had much time to blog. However, I've found myself at work before 6 a.m. for the past three weeks, and I am so far ahead of my own game that I thought I'd take a few minutes to blog the candy, 2008-style.

First, of course - The Bag. Back in Oct., I took my first-ever trip to the Northwest, invited by Ms. Vickie for a week of utter and total hedonism in Portland, OR. Tax-free Sephora runs, Sonic, Massage Envy, 24-hour access to an adorable puppy, no work, no cooking (except for super yums like currant jam and cream cheese stuffed french toast) ... if it weren't such an awful song, "Don't Worry, Be Happy" could have been the running theme. One of the first things we did was hit up the Coach outlet where I bought a super marked-down bag - black, very simple, classy. And some other stuff, but let's just focus on the bag. Later (I think; the chronological details of this trip are becoming obfuscated with those of the Sac/SF trip - especially because both involved Vickie and several pairs of shoes) we were at the Nordstrom in either the mall she works in or the one her roommate works in, and I spied this beautiful mulberry leather bag - love at first shoulder, it was. The only problem (besides a nearly prohibitive price tag) was the gigantic magnetic closure that I was sure would mess with the building key, cell phone, memory sticks, etc. (It's not a teeny little clicker, it's a big enough snap to stun a curious three-year old who decides to stick her tiny fingers in Aunty's purse.) The condensed version: I bought it, thought it over, decided I couldn't justify the sensible bag and this beautiful B. Makowsky data killer, so I returned it. Very, very sadly.

Fast-forward a couple of months, to the season of silver bells, silver dreams, and silver boxes from Nordstrom that arrive on your doortep and scream at you to open them! Ms. Vickie decided that my life demanded a little Mulberry after all. It is the nicest bag I've ever owned. Despite its very strong color, it goes with everything (not that I've tried it with orange or anything). It's a day and night purse, and it's so big that the other day I lost my bagel sandwich in it. And you know something? My building key, cell phone, cam, and niece's fingers (after that one time) are all fine. I'll take a better pic soon.