In four trips outside my house over this extra-season January I saw no people whatsoever. Whosoever. None. Mildly disturbed by the post-apocalyptic depopulation, I decided to show you nifty stuff inside my house instead of the depressing shit outside, to bust up the catatonia. Example Pedonk-a-Fluff above. PTA meeting? WWF night? Big presentation? You decide.
Cue something by The Carpenters and a very special bride, a 6'3", 110-pound flower child who nonetheless has opted to register with the state instead of simply shacking up and making her own goat cheese and children. If this describes you, let's talk! This is a very long hit of gorgeous cotton lace that I bought for $10 when Go Vintage closed their Selby Ave. store. Why? Because it's beautiful. Because it was $10. Because it feels like the dress my foundation-shunning 1970s self would have liked instead of the spangly short-sleeved A-line clearance rack special I got that was neither audacious enough to be outright hideous nor flattering enough to be classic. It's the concrete (literally) embodiment of my immense apathy toward weddings. Many of the guests at our nuptials took this as a sign of my apathy toward the institution of marriage, commitment and/or my husband and put their return addresses on the toaster, the blender, the Tupperware. In so many ways, beyond just cup size, I'm the anti-Kardashian -- total indifference toward the wedding, ridiculous abiding interest in the groom. I hope the chick who wore this is happy with her life and her goats.
And finally, this just in, a Miss O by Oscar de la Renta velvet bodice with a grey wool parachute. The whole venture is lined and weighs 60 pounds easy. Oddly, the elbows show considerable wear, indicating Miss O attended a fair number of work events and thus, by the end of the evening, was propped up by her elbows and several robust cocktails.