Better like this?

or like this?




I think I like the Charley Harper print better, but neither of them really cream my twinkie.

It's baaa-aaack

mommy?!

These boots were made for stomping zombies

About two months back, I realized that my kitten-heel black boots with the wafer-thin sole probably weren't the most appropriate footwear to be stomping around downtown in, considering I was covering 2+ miles a day in them. At the same time, I was seeing a lot of flat boots around, some equestrian, some not so much, and coveting the easy, comfortable look. But in the back of my mind, there was still a howling, gibbering desire for this:



Needless to say, going for the whole look isn't an option. There's not a whole lot of opportunity for a supportive undergarment there, and the weaponry might get a little heavy on my commute. Oh, and Eric Brown busted out the seams of my favorite red dress in college (I still have those photos, Eric) and I haven't found one I liked since.

What I could emulate, though, are those boots. And suddenly there's the confluence of current trend and poignant longing for badassery to enable my purchase of footwear.

According to this site, you can actually buy the "hero" boots (I think that means Milla's feet were actually in them — if you're into that kind of thing) for $4,500:



This is one of those times I start thinking how cool it would be if I won the lottery, then realize I'd be the most stupidly profligate newly-minted millionaire ever and end up on one of those TLC shows moaning about how my periodontist cheated me out of seven figures.

The closest match I'd been able to find were the Camper Spiral boots. Which I could never find both a) on sale and b) in my size. I love Campers, but not $200+ worth.

After that burst of urgency that, for me at least, usually follows several years of stubborn longing thwarted by self-denying cheapness, I ended up buying these, gratuitous hardware and all:



They turned out to be a great compromise between looks and fit — the front of the calf is a nice leather, and the back is that stretchy fake stuff that hooker boots are made out of. Respectable equestrienne in the front, crack ho in the rear! I found a 20% off coupon at RetailMeNot.com, and shipping was free, so I ended up paying only $108.76 for them! And frankly, when you're preparing for the Zombiepocalypse, $108.76 is a small price to pay for comfortable, reliable footwear.

Besides, you need to save your money for your emergency food kit and zombie survival guide. DUH.

Stimulating the economy, one denim garment at a time

I guess I'm still high from the rush of getting a pair of Kut from the kloth trouser jeans for $10 at the Rack the other day, because I just went and bought this on my lunch:



I've been wanting to get a pencil skirt for a while, but hadn't found one that fit right until today. It was $42.99, not $44.99 (I know, "I WANT MY TWO DOLLARSSS!"), which is more than I usually like to spend on overpriced Made in China BR crap, but it fit really well! And I resisted the siren call of this:



Which is probably a good thing, unless I get a job as a roadside flagger. In that case, I'm going to be kicking myself.

I know it's not politically correct, but...

I lurve the exotic leather accessories from Etsy seller Unearthed. Specifically, the brightly colored stingray cuffs:







The colors are brilliant for spring, and I love the concept of something so luxe that almost goes over the top into looking fake and plasticy. Kind of like the purple patent handbag that I like to bust out randomly. That shit retailed for almost $800 (no, I didn't pay anything close to that), but looks like it could have fallen off a truck behind Forever 21.

The sisters behind Unearthed also do some beautiful and original work with alligator and other skins, but how can you say no to the stingray? One of them took out Steve Irvin and left that adorable reject from The Dark Crystal without a daddy. The least I can do is enable some eye-for-an-eye with a lovely accessory.

Living room, before and (sort of) after

Before:



After (kinda):



I'd been told that the clock above the fireplace was too small, so I moved that into the bathroom and replaced it with the Charlie Harper print from the kitchen. We also got rid of the brass fireplace screen and tools that came with the house (along with the window treatments that we've never bothered to replace). We don't use the fireplaces anyway, so no harm, no foul.

Still up in the air on art for above the fireplace. I have a large Ork poster of Portland in the black and white with a chrome frame that I may try there. If I do, I'll post a photo.

The marble-topped tables in the Before were actually nightstands from Michael's loft-dwelling bachelor days and were no way, no how going to fit in our 1964-sized bedroom. Unless we decided to share a twin bed, which, not so much. The hanging shelves are Elfa from the Container Store (anyone want to take them off my hands?!), and probably one of the more foolish purchases I've made for the house. Sometimes frugal screws up functional, you know?

I'd started thinking that with the ability to work from home, I should really invest in a convenient, uncluttered place to work. Previously, my laptop and assorted recharging doo-dads all lived on the kitchen island, which was a daily visual annoyance and not that comfortable. I'd also noticed that outside of the holidays, we just weren't using the living room. It had become what I sneer at - a visiting priest room. Which is all wrapped up in counter-aspirational class issues for me and fairly pointless since we've only had a priest at our house once, and we hung out in the backyard anyway.

I suspect I initally saw ISS Designs advertised in the back of Atomic Ranch or Dwell. It kept cropping up, though, as a period-appropriate and infinitely customizable, if painfully expensive, solution to both problems. I finally pulled the trigger around Christmas, and finally got the cabinets delivered in February:









Gods bless Michael and his calloused hands for installing it all. I'd forgotten about the tray ceiling when I placed the order for 8' poles. Which meant Michael had to take the poles to his shop to cut 2" off of them. Sorry, hon.

Now we have a much more cohesive look, more storage, and I have a Corner of My Own. I still want to get a bigger rug, something cool to hang above the fireplace, and more color, but that's all superficial. The shelving and can lights were good investments in actual functionality.

Lookit what I got!

They need a little cleaning up, but I've been wanting one since renting a house in Black Butte Ranch years ago that had the Yugoslavian knock-offs of the Wegner ones and this pair was only $200. I really like the ebonized wood, and don't miss the handles on the inspiration chairs.

Terry's socks?

In a sporadically frantic attempt to find affordable big art that didn’t come from Ikea, I found Terry's Posters, an enormous selection of film posters. Which rocks for several reasons. First, it's Czechoslovakian, and so am I (partially). Second, the prices are fairly affordable, although there are some pricier options in the "Best of" and "Rarities" sections. Third, it has an entire section of posters for Czech versions of US films, which are SO MUCH cooler than the US versions:

Jaws 2:

So eastern bloc and constructivist compared to the cheesecake US version

Short Circuit:

Wasn't this a kids movie? Maybe this was actually the poster from Terminator or something.

Poseidon Adventure:

Okay, the US version has them beat on the tagline ("Hell, upside down"? Hell, yeah!), but the "cast of thousands" yearbook page look blows ass.

Duel:

Face it, every version of this movie poster kicks ass because this movie kicks ass.

With the exception of the last, the posters are way more interesting than the films were.

Of special note - check out the ability to search by actor or director. I think the Czechs have a serious Thing for Clint Eastwood, because those are the awesomest.

Is anyone else gloating?

Because I am, and I'm one of those Johnny-come-lately gentrifiers.

Frankly, the idea of moving to a neighborhood with the sole intention of changing it annoys me. I don't see how the "creative class" wanting to replace the muffler shops and martial arts studios with art galleries and coffee bars are any different than the suburbanites who move out to the exurbs and start bitching about the smells coming from the 100-year-old family dairy farm next door. Why are the latter scorned and the former hailed as saviors?

Am I a big fan of the Sysco mashed potatoes at the old-school diner down the street? Not particularly. But I do see the parking lot full of trucks and Buick sedans just about every morning, which signals that me and my biodiesel-driving brethren aren't the only life in this neighborhood. Just because we had the poor timing to pay more for our houses doesn't mean we're entitled to make over this corner of the world in our image.

I guess I have enough handmade soap, too, Mr. Waldie.

Smell it.

Most of my current perfumes are way floral (Eclat d'Arpège, Hervé Léger, Fleur de Colette). I have a fondness for spicier scents, but I'm still put off of wearing scents that remind me of my mom and her Opium addiction. No, not that opium. Yeah, okay, that opium too, but I'm specifically referring to the Proustian memory of sitting on the floor next to my mom's vanity table, choking on the heady compound fug of hairspray, chain-smoked Winstons, and Opium.

I had a fancy dinner to go to after work the other week, and, true to my, uh, "frugal" nature, I stopped at Nordstrom on my way over to take advantage of the testers in the makeup area. I also swung through the adjacent fragrance department to see if there was anything more suitable for an evening out and decided to try Annick Goutal's Mandragore:



I found myself sniffing my arm surreptitiously throughout the evening, and decided to head over to the Perfume House to check it out. After a brief flirtation with Caron Sacré – um, hello powdery old lady! – and a break to have lunch and do some window shopping, I stuck with the Mandragore. I would have preferred the smaller 1.7 oz size, but they only had the 3.4 oz and, well, I'd rather spend a little more at a local shop to make sure they're still around the next time I'm in the mood for a perfume orgy. Also, I got the more masculine version of the bottle, so maybe I can convince Michael to wear it.



I feel like I smell more, well, adult. Not in a porny way, but more grown up.