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.

10 for 2009

Ten cat_candies I've come to love this year:

1) Philosophy Hope in a Jar w/SPF 20. The regular Hope was great, but when I hit my 30s (or did they hit me? I'm still not sure), I knew I needed a regular moisturizer w/built-in sunscreen. The only minor issue I have w/this is that it's a little on the heavy side and leaves me a little shiny. Verdict: a moderately-priced necessity.

2) But never fear, this year I also discovered Smashbox! The photo-finish primer perfectly offsets any sheen left by Phil Hope. Waterproof creme eyeliner + my new best friend, the smudger brush = undying love. Verdict: expensive toys for your face.

3) Bath and Body Works Sleep line - I use the LV sugar scrub in the shower; it has replaced Origins' Incredible Spreadable Scrub, which is made of salt, which really hurts when you rub it in a nick or cut you didn't know you had. The scent is intoxicating to me ... it reminds me of clean linens and idyllic childhood summer vacations. Verdict: a moderately-priced tub of deep comfort.

4) Woolly footwear. This year, on a San Francisco jaunt w/Ms. Vickie, I acquired a single pair of Uggs ("short w/stacked heel and cowboy-esque design w/o fringe" is the best I can do in the way of a description.) Hopefully the one pair will last me a good part of my lifetime. Verdict: a guilty extravagance.

5) Tarte Green Siren Cheek Stain. Verdict: best gel cheek color ever, but really expensive.

6) High-foaming version of Philosophy's Purity Made Simple. Start and end my day with it. Verdict: reasonable, and a necessity.

7) Fresh Sugar Lip treatment. I'm sure I discovered it awhile ago, but it's something I've used religiously this year. Tastes like white jellybeans. Verdict: another nostalgia-induced extravagance.

8) I haven't yet found my signature fragrance. I have been using some Kat Von D "Sinner" samples I got in an online Sephora order, and I enjoyed the CK One Summer that Cub got me for our first Christmas, but other than that, I am a soap-and-water plus lotion-when-I-remember-it kind of gal when it comes to fragrance. I love the scent of Vera Wang's Princess, but anything stronger than the lotion gives me a headache. On her October trip to the islands, Peahen insisted I'd love Escada's Ocean Lounge, and after I ridiculed the tacky name and bottle for about five minutes, she sprayed me with it to shut me up, and I fell in like. Not love, but I do like it. I prefer sweet fragrances to ultra-floral ones. It's an EDT, so it's but a faint memory by lunchtime (she also insisted I buy a purse-sized atomizer, which I refused - I don't reapply anything throughout the day except maybe lip balm). Verdict: Cheap fun.

9) Munro American. I'm 30 plus one - I need comfortable shoes. Verdict: my feet thank me every day for spending that money.

10) Fresh Nectarine Milk Bath and Shower Cream. Happy showers. Verdict: A major splurge, at $28 for a 10-oz. bottle.

flagship follies

An absurd yet bright spot in a foggy day: Victoria's Secret opening! Truth be told, I was not all that excited about the store and had not planned on carving any time out of my day to browse, let alone stand in a two-hour line to get in. 1) I am an enthusiastic and effective online shopper, and 2) I liked that VS was a "mainland thing," something to look forward to on each trip.

But I ended up at the mall for this reason or that, and breezed past the VS store. The doors were closed, and it didn't look all that crowded inside. "Is it open?" I asked the guard.

"Yep, but the entrance is" - he pointed - "over there."

Well, snaking out of that entrance was a freaking line that wrapped around the building and ended at Jamba Juice. A guy was walking up and down the line asking if anyone had an Angel card. There was just no freaking way I was standing in a line that long to peek into a store I've been in ten thousand times in one form or another. But I thought I'd give it one small shot and told the guy with the headset I was a member. Did I have my card on me? No, but apparently it didn't matter ... he told me to follow him to the front of the VIP line (the diva walk past the whole line made me heady for about two seconds - that's for all the times I stood in a bullshit line to get into a ridiculous club! - then I became just really confused.

There's a line inside the store? What for? Why am I here at the front of it? Ooh, cameras. Why didn't I put makeup on this morning? Why is that guy waving at me? What are we all in line for?

"Name you want on your autograph?" the Man in the Suit barked.

"Um. Say what?"

"You can't get an autographed picture unless you have a post-it with the name written on it."

"Oh. Okay." I spelled the name for him, still totally bewildered (all I wanted to do was browse Biofit!) and he went away.

"Uh, what are we in line for?" I asked the nicest-looking girl in the line behind me. (The rest looked like the wanted to kill me. Could I blame them ... no.)

"Marisa Miller's signing autographs," she replied.

"Oh how cool!" <--- I tried to squeal this with a knowing inflection but I did not know who the girl was talking about (I know one VS model name: Alessandra Ambrosio), until Marisa Miller actually came around the corner. She is very tall, very slim, very beautiful, and very down to earth.

I made small talk with her for about 10 seconds while she signed my photo, and finally, I got to enter Biofit (and Pink) heaven. I sneaked some photos (what were they going to do, take my Marisa Miller autograph away?), bought some woo-hoos, sniffed some scents, and finally left.

So yes, I "went to the opening" - and I didn't have to take off from work or stand in a line. The store, by the way, packs much awesomeness. It is big and beautiful (vocabulary suckage due to the late hour). I still don't know how I got to the front of the VIP queue (and I wonder what I could have pulled off with a little makeup and some heels!), but whatever. Btw, the guy was not waving at me. Obviously. He was waving at Miss Hawaii 2001 (and fellow former Miss Chinatown Hawaii princess) Denby Dung, beautiful (and congenial) as ever, who was next to me in line.

Next stop: OREGON!!!

a very merry unbirthday to me

I bought myself a present in San Francisco. Well, a few presents, actually. Considering that some of them were things like dried mango slices from Trader Joe's and erasers shaped like sushi from Japantown, it's really not all that bad. The ring is, of course, my favorite.

It's a belated 31st birthday present, a last-hurrah-in-SF present. A right-hand ring for a right-brained girl (who is, unfortunately, very clumsy with her right hand and therefore, while gesticulating wildly in the throes of a right-brained idea, has bashed the pretty ring against many a door jamb and bookcase already).

It's pretty and I like it. It put a significant dent in my Oregon savings. Hopefully V will forgive me!

(rid)dle me this ...

How much stuff is too much stuff?

After a lot of soul- (and closet-) searching, and a long talk with Cub, I am undertaking a great overhaul. Of bedroom and bookshelves, of clothes and trinkets, of junk and treasure. I suppose even if we lived in a mansion, there'd still be limits as to how much stuff one should possess.

The good news: made headway on the Kindle discussion.

good-bye old friends (II)

good-bye old friends (II)
Originally uploaded by damned_cat

No, I didn't bring home another thrift-store haul - but you never know when you're going to need more closet space.

Breaking up with things that have been in your closet for years, no matter how infrequently you wore them or how well you know you never will wear them aga in - is hard to do.

Click on pic. Notes at flickr.

zhen

Not a good picture of my recent "Oregon setback." Two years after co-chairing the whole thing, Bon and I found ourselves with a much lighter job at this year's ACUW fashion show: silent auction runners. Whee! That gave us a lot of time to meander around the pre-show boutique, where I found these.

My grandparents, who named me after the gemstone, probably turned in their graves as I parted with hard-earned Oregon cash to own this double-strand of what they would call "not-so-good pearls." But I've been after pink-toned pearls for so long that when the woman draped them artfully around my neck in 100 different ways in under 60 seconds, I grabbed them. Before someone else did.

In other, but related, news, here's a Candied update because I haven't done one in forever:

We got married. That cost a lot. But because we insisted on not being ridiculous with the details, and because our parents, families, and friends are so generous, we are not in debt. Credit cards are well under control, and now our joint priorities are refinancing our mortgage and building up our rainy day savings fund (people in the know suggest anywhere from three to eight months of living expenses - I think six is a good middle ground.) My own personal short-term savings are geared toward getting Scott a wedding band he can actually wear (sadly the one we picked out before the wedding caused some problems because of the material), and Oregon in October. We invested in a WiiFit (happily it sees a lot of use, from Scott anyway) and are budgeting for a new stackable washer/dryer (and possibly a more streamlined water heater).

That's it for now. On the one hand, I should have nothing new to report for awhile (because of the October Savings Fund) but on the other hand, saving in itself is quite an adventure ...

WHAT

They discontinued Sap Moss?

THEY DISCONTINUED SAP MOSS?

...

I am the (bad) kind of shopper who sets out to buy something - but, upon finding out that the store is out or no longer carries what I needed, will browse till I see something I like, and create a need for it on the spot.

Voila, Brilliant Universal Styling Creme, which I use less to style and more to tame. It is a really thick, sticky goo that will take care of those flyaways but also make your head into a Lego-warrior helmet if you don't heed the directions on the back: use a very small amount. I love the scent of Aveda products, but if you're not into a spicy, slightly earthy scent (and by earthy I mean the good clean smell of freshly tilled earth, as in dirt), leave the hair products alone.

...

I can't believe they discontinued Sap Moss!

face

Got free makeup demo by Bev Kaneshige @ Bridal Expo tonight. We're pretty much done with everything, so we only went because we had free tix and wanted to eat cake. And jellybeans. And fried mini filets of fish with a shoyu-scallion sauce from Kahala Catering. And more cake. Even if we had paid to get in, it would have been well worth it. We ate what would have been our money's worth.

Sucky bathroom lighting won't show the nice color job Bev did with my eyes. She's been doing my makeup for years and is one of two artists whose makeup I really like. The other, as far as I know, flew away to the mainland with her talent, and I went through two or three pros before finding Bev.

If you've stumbled on this blog because you Googled "ItalSteam review" or "ItalSteam sucks," which is how I get most of my hits, and have for some reason read this much of this entry, I should explain that I am not a model (I love the stage and camera but am about a foot too short and a mile too silly to model anything but my own collection of offensive t-shirts) but over the years have been given several opportunities to participate in pageants, fashion shows, an odd public appearance or two, photo shoots, and weddings - hence the need for a really good makeup artist.

With my own wedding coming up, I am more thankful than ever for Bev because much as I enjoy goofing off for the cam, I never mastered the art of makeup. It requires a patience, a precision, a proclivity to perfectionism that I just don't possess. It would probably take me hours (frustrated ones, at that) to create what she can whip up in 25 minutes.

No one ever taught me how to apply makeup. My first "favorite lipstick" was a frosted lilac color, and it took someone telling me directly that I looked like a corpse to get me to stop wearing it. During the whole pageant year, I know the directors were cringing at the thought of me representing them without owning a single clue as to how - or why - I should probably get my brows waxed and wear some eyeliner. At the very least.

Makeup notes:

I remember, in San Francisco, the Berkeley girl who ran away with the title. She sat in the corner twenty minutes before our opening number, serenely applying her own makeup. She didn't demand counter space. She didn't need special lighting. She sat there on the cold floor of the dressing room in the Palace of Fine Arts with her toolbox of brushes and palettes, choosing colors, dusting them on, penciling them in, blotting, and staring at herself very evenly in the mirror.

I remember the first time I ever wore professionally applied makeup. The lashes were so heavy I could barely see. But the girls applauded the artist - said she'd brought out my inner beauty. Actually, she'd brought out my aversion to mascara. Oh well.

I remember the first time I did a winged eye - black Almay pencil from Longs Drugs. And the first time I did my own eyeshadow and liked it - Body & Soul's Cadet Blue smudged with Dream. (I haven't done good lips yet. Ever.)

I remember my cousin shoplifting a tube of Maybelline Kissing Potion when we were about 10. While I was really, really scared for her, I really, really wished I'd gotten one too.

I remember sneakily trying to apply my aunt's Cover Girl powder to my own face when I was little - she said, taking it away, Someday you'll have to wear this, so enjoy your own face now.

Does anyone have to? Of course there are those days where you look in the mirror and think going outside barefaced would be as horrible as going outside unclothed. But unless you've gotten punched in the face or spent all night crying, chances are, you don't have to put any makeup on. We do it to ourselves, that mindset - covering our faces so regularly that bare days seem ugly.

Enjoy your own face now - plain, made-up, smooth, wrinkled - come to think of it, that's some of the best advice my aunt ever gave me.

skint??

The BF said I couldn't have a BlackBerry. The next day he said we couldn't eat out. Are we worse off than I thought?? Okay, okay - internet on the phone is unnecessary. But a chicken caesar salad?

luddite in the house

This is so not the time, but I really want a Blackberry.

The facts:

I have progressed (or, let's say, would like to progress) beyond blogging with a cat in my lap.
I am not hip (or app-needy) enough to explore iPhone territory.
I need something text-capable, so why not to the whole nine web yards?
I have no true burning need for such a toy and so all of the aforementioned facts are useless.

Sigh.

I am getting a new phone, though, along with a brand-spanking-new plan that I hopefully will not hate with such a passion as the one I do now.