Crisis in Denim

Rock sugar candy. Yum.

…  thus went the first-ever Boston Fashion Blogger Mixer last weekend.

Of course there’s much, much more.

When the day began I was a bit apprehensive.  Would my outfit be right? Would the other bloggers already all know each other? It was like the first day of sleep-away camp, circa 1988!

To ease my nervousness I told myself I’d just pop in for a few minutes, pick up some business cards, introduce myself to a couple bloggers, and quietly slip out. Wrong.

Hello, Lovelies. Where have you been all my life? These Pour La Victoire booties at Luna were a bit out of my price range, even with 25% off. Still, they are gorgeous and have inspired many a fantasy.

First off, the mixer was held at the fabulous Luna Boston handbag store (hello? handbag store?! It was like the venue was chosen especially pour moi!)  on Newbury Street, and the first thing I saw was a sign offering all bloggers 25 percent off anything. Now THAT’S what I call hospitality.

Then, just as I was filling out my nametag, some excitement erupted outside. We all ran to see. It was the annual Santa Speedo Run making its way down Newbury Street in all its Spandex glory.  Suffice it to say, we bloggers were all ready for a drink after that sighting.

The Santa Speedo Run ran just past the Fashion Blogger Mixer. It was a juxtaposition of sorts-- people who love wearing clothes, and people who love, well, NOT wearing clothes.

Thank goodness for Hpnotiq. If it sounds like I’m shilling for a big alcohol company, well, I am, just a bit. It was just that they sent over such lovely bottles of baby-blue liquor, along with bartenders to make delicious concoctions such as the  Roq Candy  which was stirred up with a stick of pale blue rock sugar candy.

(By the way, it seems we all inadvertently enrolled in Hpnotiq’s “Night School for Girls” (Click on 12.12.2009 Luna Boston)– since there are plenty of photos of the festivities on the company’s website.)

After we’d all had a few sips of these yummy drinks, the place really got hopping.

A Necklush. I feel a Jones of the Week coming on.

I met Lei Ann of Give Me Platforms… or give me death (I know, I love the blog name too) who was very Zen in her Buddha necklace.  She was also the lucky winner of a giveaway from Necklush, which makes super-sweet neckwear that is somewhere between necklace and scarf.

I met Amy of The Bargain Hunter Extraordinaire, Jessica of  Daucus Carota, Davita of Dita’s Style Buffet, Najeema of A Stylized Hysteria and Julie of Orchid Grey — all lovely and super-cool.

I met Jen of Jen Loves Kev and Amy, aka Punky of Punky Style, who also owns a very cool mobile vintage shop, Haberdash Vintage, and who supplied many of the goodies for the random drawing giveaway. (Yours truly won a crocheted clutch!). They, along with Liana of New Brahmin, organized the mixer and I,  for one, can not gush enough with gratitude.

Blogstress after fabulous blogstress confessed to me that she’d been nervous about meeting everyone and all I could say was: ME TOO! I had thought I’d stand in the corner, sneak out when no one was looking, and have a whole afternoon to kill before my 5:30 p.m. bus to New York.

Boy, was I wrong. Sometime around 3:30 p.m. I glanced at my watch and realized the afternoon had flown by and I didn’t even have enough time to take advantage of the shopping deals some Newbury Street stores were offering bloggers. In fact, I barely had enough time to pick up my bags and head to New York City.

I just barely made my bus and on the ride down (well, before those blue drinks sent me into a deep sleep), I thought, I don’t care what anyone says about fashion and New York– there is no city with a more fabulous sisterhood of fashion bloggers than Boston.

Booze and Shoes

Signs like this are all up and down Newbury Street in Boston these days.

Permit me a moment of indulgence, if you will.

See, ever since the economy tanked, I’ve been noticing a lot of empty storefronts. And sometimes, I can’t help but think how much nicer they would look as my own little boutiques.

Okay, never mind that the last time I worked in a clothing store was almost 20 years ago, just after high school, at the Express at Quincy Market (that Express is long gone now, that floor of the building empty, the last time I passed by). I never quite got that folding thing down with the Stalin-esque precision I was supposed to,  although I was darn good at putting together outfits for customers.

And never mind the fact that the sole cash I have to invest in a business is about $450, which it now looks like I will have to tap for a paint job, since some goober keyed the word Ass into the hood of my car.

Also, I know nothing about inventory, buying, supply chain management, accounting, or hiring salespeople.

What should we call my fashion mecca?

It’s a fantasy here, people, work with me.

This vacant space in the chic Meatpacking District of New York City. It beckons me.

As long as I’m sharing, I’ll have you know that I’ve especially fantasized about a particular space about in a town called Natick, about 40 minutes west of Boston. Until a few months ago it was a kind of one-floor mini-department store called Barber’s.

A long ranch-style building, Barber’s had room after room of scented candles, fancy bath gels, Vera Bradley floral luggage and Brighton jewelry– just to name a few examples. I used to call it the suburban mom emporium, and most of the stuff wasn’t quite my style ,but that’s not to say I don’t have a few choice finds from there in my jewelry box or my, ahem, handbag collection.

One of the things that always impressed me about Barber’s was that  even though there was no other shopping around it — it was mostly surrounded by offices and trees —  the folks at Barber’s sold enough good stuff that they were a draw in their own right. That place was always busy.

Thing is, Barber’s has been sitting empty for months now. And sometimes I think, if they can do it, I can do it.

The only time I could get there to take a picture was at night. I see this as a clothing mecca by day, though. No?

In my mind I’ve turned the room that used to be the Yankee Candle collection into the shoe section, full of slouchy boots and adorable ballet flats.

The room that sold the quilted floral handbags and wallets –well, those shelves could be filled with gorgeous sweaters– some chunky cardigans, some cashmere crewnecks, as well as soft cotton t-shirts of the Splended and LA Made variety.

When I’m meandering this way around Fantasy Island (minus Tatoo and the Boss, thank you very much, that show scared the crap out of me when I was a kid), I like to think about what my price point would be (okay, I’ve just exhuasted the one retail term I know).

I think I would have a mix of well-priced lines; some Kensie, perhaps, with sweaters running about $70, and then more high-end pieces by Marc Jacobs or Nanette Lepore.

I’d also, of course, feature plenty of local Boston-area indie designers, especially in the jewelry, bag and shoe departments.

I’d stock plenty of basics and have multiples of all sizes. And there would be a glorious section dedicated to, of course, denim, with yours truly making sure every jean-related shopping experience was crisis-free.

My fabulous shop would be a one-stop shopping for all– young and old, rich and poor (okay, not too poor, I’ve got to make a meager profit here, people), and the world would be a better place because I’d be in charge of outfitting it.

Anyone interested in making an investment in my own personal fantasy island?

If I Had Only Slowed Down: An Ode to the Clothes That Could Have been Mine

I could have bought cashmere all fuzzy and soft
Or a nice pair of pants seen at Ann Taylor Loft
I could have bought Gucci or Pucci or Betsey
Or a handbag that’s one of a kind sold on Etsy

Oh the boots I’d have had, some Cole Hanns, or a Frye
Oh the shoes I’d have got, oh the shoes, I might cry!
For one hundred and seventy bucks I must pay
To municipal coffers in the state of M-A

Since the friendly state trooper , his lights white and blue
Said: you know you were going a brisk eighty-two
In a sixty-five zone. I had no choice, alas
But to pull you right over … you were going too fast

I begged for some mercy, a small bit of pity
Don’t you know, that I just bought a coat . It’s so pretty
that I now need a scarf that will match, and a hat
Just give me a warning, we’ll leave it at that

But the cop shook his head, so I’ll just pay the fine
And mourn for the dresses that could have been mine
But at least I have learned, that for shopping’s sake
I must slow my ass down, and keep my foot on the brake

About a month ago I took the plunge and bought an especially-long-jonesed-for Jones of the Week.

I bought the Orla Kiely mini check stem shoulder bag. I’d been wanting some version of an Orla Kiely bag for going on about three years now. It was time. I bought myself a little back-to-school present of sorts (the best part being, I don’t actually have to go to school).

I admit, I was nervous I would experience  buyer’s remorse, brought on by reduced purchasing power and high opportunity costs (yes, I took Psychology 101 in college, and believe I failed the final because I was off by one row when I filled in the Scantron bubbles with my number 2 pencil. It’s a memory I try to repress.)

It was certainly possible I would not feel satisfied; that even I, the most intellectual of clothes-horses, would not be able to resist the all-too-human tug of disappointment brought on by finally getting something you really, really want.

Well, I’m happy to report: no buyer’s remorse here. Every time I pick up my Orla Kiely lovely in the morning, I feel a little thrill. No morning after regret. I’m in love.

An update, in case you were wondering. Now, as you were.

Practically every time I have to get dressed up I find myself trotting out an evening bag I bought 14 years ago. It has dangly beads and sequins, and at the last wedding I attended, my friend’s husband called it a sea creature.

With a pull here and a tuck there, I’ve managed to convert it into a wristlet that’s big enough to hold everything I usually need, like makeup, a hairbrush, my iPhone, a camera, my business cards, my ID, some cash… You get the picture.

This bag actually looks good for its age; 14 in handbag years, as in dog years, is pretty old.

I know I need a new bag. And it’s not like I haven’t looked, and even auditioned replacements over the years. It’s just that nothing ever seems to look as good, AND hold as much, as Sea Creature Bag.

My Sea Creature Bag. It's hard to give it up.

However, it’s time to retire this old beaded standby. Frankly, if I have to carry it to one more wedding, I may cry.

But here’s the problem. What’s in style now are clutches. They’re everywhere. Adorable little envelope-shaped bags you hold in the palm of your hand. Great. Except, I don’t know about you, but at parties, I need one hand free for a glass of pinot noir, and the other hand free for, well, a glass of pinot noir. Or for handing out business cards (”You haven’t heard of Crisis in Denim?!  Here’s my card.”).

Mom says : “Didn’t you watch the Oscars? All the stars carried clutches.” To which I replied: “Yes, and they all had personal assistants and maids and nannies and waitresses to hold their clutches while they drank their wine.”

Sigh. I can’t afford a personal assistant. But I’m probably going to have to get a clutch anyway.

Now, I know there are bags with wrist-straps out there, but the ones I’ve seen are no bigger than wallets.

The bags with shoulder straps usually have long gold chains and scream ‘granny bag.’

Of course, I’ve started doing a little online pre-shopping and here is what I’ve come up with:

There’s this Michael Kors clutch. I love how the buckles make it casual, but the shininess makes it dressy.

… Hmmm. I see there are some cuties out there. Maybe entering the world of clutches isn’t so bad….

Of course, I lovey-love the Kooba one at  Bluefly. It’s basic and simple and will go with almost any outfit. For now a bit out of my price range, but hey, a girl can dream.

…Okay, okay my spirits are lifting already….

Oh, and look. Here’s a funky black and white creation I discovered on Etsy.com. I can think of three outfits already that it would look great with.

…I think I may be a clutch convert….

I can’t promise anything, but if we end up at a party together, I’ll show you my new clutch. In fact, would you mind holding it while I take just a teensy sip of my wine?

I managed to make it through the weekend without hitting up the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale. At one point, about mid-afternoon on Sunday, I really almost caved. But I  managed to distract myself until 7 (it’s amazing how engrossing you can make epicurious.com when you have to, even if you don’t really cook), when I knew Nordstrom had shut its doors for the night.

Wouldn't we be cute together?

No sooner had I overcome this temptation, when I discovered that Orla Kiely has a new bag pattern out. You may remember that my inaugural Jones of the Week was an Orla Kiely bag.

I thought I had fed my obsession sufficiently when I bought the Melie Bianco bag.

I love you. But I'm not sure you're the ONE.

I promised it would be the last I’d buy for quite some time. I promised myself I was satisfied, and that I’d settle down, and stop thinking about all those Orla bags out there.

But there’s something about that Orla look that I keep crushing on, no matter how hard I try not to. Even Mom claims she’s known all along I won’t really be satisfied until I buy an Orla Kiely bag.

 Now, I haven’t formally put this new one on my shoulder yet, but I did see it in a store window, and, well, I guess there’s no other way to say it. I am smitten.

This one is more in keeping with my style; it’s a sedate neutral– blacks, browns, olives. But sprinkled throughout are splashes of red and — oh, my favorite! — pink. 

Okay, Really Irritating Internal Voice. Bring it on.

RIIV: You need another handbag like  Octo-Mom needs another kid.

ME: Yeah, but you know, this is it. This is THE one.

RIIV: Think of all the times you’ve been sure it’s THE one, and it turned out to be just a fling. A love that flared up, burned hot, then quickly died.

ME: Please. Dispense with the metaphors.

RIIV: I think you have commitment problems. You’ll buy this, and then– you’ll be jonesing for something else.

ME: Listen, Really Irritating Internal Voice, this time it’s different. I can feel it.

RIIV: You just keep telling yourself that. 

So here it is. Oh, and Orla Kiely- I’m not linking to you since your website has been down for three days. You charge enough for your bags. Please hire a 14-year-old computer genius to fix your servers already.