I'm tapping out

Hey friend, would you like to come over tomorrow night for an "impromptu" dinner party?


I'll be serving tap water.


God, what was my life before Sweatercups "perfected the art of casual dining?"

It's Friday night, do you know where your brain is?

So you probably think that reading girly blogs is a fun, harmless way to waste a few hours at work. Just a little junk food for the brain, nothing more. Well I'm sorry to burst the beautiful bubble, but today I had a scary revaluation... America is no longer home of the free. Our brains are being taken over... one blog post at a time.

In the beginning I too thought this blog stuff was all fun and games. It's no secret that I've been ashamed of my daily unwashed hair/yoga pant daily dress code and after spending too many hours staring at pictures of cute outfits, I'd decided to amend my sloppy ways. I've become a big girl who gets dressed in real clothes before running out to do errands. Today I even managed an accessory. An accessory I thought I was wearing for me... Oh, how wrong I was.

So there I am, ridiculous chunky scarf tied around my neck, when I decide to stroll over to CVS to pick up a tube of the lipstick. Now sure, Sweatercups was wearing it yesterday but I've been coveting coral lips for a while, unsure of what colors are actually coral out of the tube. I was happy that someone had finally told me what color to buy and that it would only set me back a few bucks. Much to my chagrin, CVS was out of the glorious Blase Apricot! All the other colors were neatly stacked but there was no blasted Blase! Knowing that my east side CVS is never thoroughly stocked, I was disappointed but told myself to move on, I had grocery shopping to do.

Oh yeah, I should mention that I'm making soup tonight. Sweatercups endorsed soup to be exact. Now in my defense again, I had been on Martha Stewart yesterday debating soups and thinking about how good sausage and kale soup would be. But if I'm really going to be honest, my mind wasn't made up until Sweater's recommendation. Boy was I surprised when I got to the produce isle of Ralph's and saw the gaping hole where the kale used to be. It was just like the lipstick, the surrounding chard and collard greens were plentiful but the kale bin was bare. Friends, I have never seen this. There has always been kale at the Ralph's. There's no other answer...

Sweatercups is taking over my brain and maybe even yours. What's next our mother's? Our (unborn) children? The world.??!!

I'm serious.

But keep this on the DL. We don't want any more executives finding out about her powers. Not only did she make a Coach bag, get to see the BHDLN line before any of us; now she's trying to sell us Madewell too. Resistance is not futile. We cannot keep giving in!!!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to make some graham crackers.. from scratch. Because they really are that much better.

Peek-a-boo I'm through

You guys, I'm not sure if I want to be a girl anymore. And I'm not saying that because I have a bad case of PMS or something. It's just... I'm really worried where we as a sex are headed when it comes to fashion.

Remember when Gretchen Jones won Project Runway and she wore this?

At the time I recall registering that what she was wearing was bananas but I was so shocked and appalled that Mondo lost, I didn't let the gravity of what was happening really sink in.

Until I saw this on Monday.
And I realized it's like, a thing. 'Cause if Sweatercups is wearing it, you know the rest of us are soon to follow. And then suddenly we'll be on the Topshop website converting pounds to dollars and wondering, "could I really pull off sparkly hotpants with a mesh overlay?"
And gals, that is a question that most men have never had to ask themselves.

An open letter to a little princess

Dear The Only Fashion Princess,

I'd like to say upfront I think you're super cute. You remind me of young Fiona Apple and I like that you often smile in your photos, Ol' Sweatercups could take a note from you (we can both agree that today's tutu was bananas, right?). Even though you maybe have chosen the silliest name ever for your blog, I forgive you because you are only 17 and from the Netherlands and maybe something got lost in the translation. What I'm trying to say is that I like you. I like your blog. And it's with love that I write you this letter.

Girlfriend, we need to have a talk. The other day you posted this picture on your blog with this short snippet. "très chic. Do I have to say more?"

(from fashionising)

Yes. Yes, you do. Honey, you just posted a picture of a woman wearing the Bride of Frankenstein's leopard power suite mixed with Price Charming's (the Cinderella one) shoulder pads.

And I haven't even gotten to the fringe! Maybe it's our age difference, but foot long arm fringe that resembles a horse's mane is not what pops into my mind whenever someone says "tres chic." I reserve that for gals like Jackie Kennedy, Audrey Hepburn or hell even Katie Holmes on a good day. In my mind almost anyone is tres chic-er than your leathery Brigitta with her thick gold chain and a bad spray tan. Next time add a few more sentences. State your thesis and then prove it. I'm really interested to hear why you think this is stylin' because right now I'm overwhelmed with all the comments on your blog telling you that they agree. HOW DO THY AGREE WITH YOU? Why is no one explaining this to me? Am I that out of touch with your generation?! Is this like how my mother doesn't understand Facebook? Am I old enough to be your MOTHER?

I'm sorry. Maybe this is more about me than you, I promise to settle down if you promise to go back to being a sweet little Criminal who Shadowboxes. Oh and congrats on finding that perfect silver blazer that you'd been looking for. I'm really proud of you.

xoxo,
Your pal Hal

Just a typical lunch on the run!

I told a few friends about this new blog idea of mine and asked them to send me the blogs they can't stop compulsively reading while also battling suicidal thoughts. The response was unanimous: Cupcakes and Cashmere. After perusing the blog, I have no idea what they are being so insecure about. This outfit is totally like the yoga pants and hoodie sweatshirt I wear when I pop out of my house for lunch...

Except I don't even do that because I work from home, have very few actual designers duds and am constantly broke.

I feel like I could write tombs about Emily from Cupcakes. While her pictures are like mouthfuls of frosting for my brain, when you stop and think about it her blog is really kind of weird. Her days must revolve around waking up, styling her "beachy waves" and deciding what designer shirt goes with which forever 21 headband. Then she has to scout a location and do a photo shoot with her boyfriend. "Darling, I know you are swamped at work but today's cloud cover goes perfectly with my Elizabeth and James tunic. I'll need you to meet me in front of Tom's Burgers. No time for lunch but you can sustain yourself with the satisfaction that your woman can wear muppet fringe with a straight face. We're so in love! Get a close up of my crotch!!!"


Or maybe he's happy to oblige her with photos because he is smug that he landed the one girl in America who somehow looks cute ALL OF THE TIME. Like even on a moving day!


I wish I had a photo of myself to compare and contrast except I don't because I am a sweaty, dirty mess when I move. NO ONE (especially not my boyfriend) would be even remotely tempted to photograph me in that state. And that's why thanks to good ol' SweaterCups, the next time I'm cleaning my house, I vow to dust while wearing lipstick and a bumpit.

Or maybe I should just vow to dust.