Redemption Rewards

I recently accomplished an amazing feat of willpower.  The Nordstrom Anniversary Sale came and went, and my credit card remained uncharged and my $20 reward credit is still folded safely in my wallet.  So while I won't be receiving a new pair of AGL Ballet Flats in the mail, I can proudly wear the pairs I already have, and breathe a sigh of relief to have one less bill to pay. 

So Adorable, practical, and comfortable.

The change of seasons is a difficult time for shopoholics.  My inbox full of emails with news of great deals on summer clothes I can wear now, and store windows display clothes that excite me for the apple cider days of fall. (Also for temps that return the NYC subway stations to a habitable environment, and less of a Jungle Hell biosphere.)  But still, I am trying to appreciate the good things that I already have.  The happiness received from saving an extra 30% only lasts until I have to squeeze one more blouse/pair of shoes into my closet.  (Maybe some day, I will save enough money to hire a decorganizing consultant.)

Even as I successfully spend more time reading the news and practicing yoga, I still can't help notice the cute top on the woman next to me, and wonder if it is still available at Lulu, and if...it's on sale!  (Perhaps this is why my inversion practice is lacking.)  I suppose like any addict, I have to take recovery one day at a time.  Perhaps doing little things, like tossing the J.Crew style guide, instead of immediately flipping through it and dog-earring pages.  Or deleting the Gap Friends email, instead of pulling out my datebook and reworking my day around the nearest Gap. 

I have a doctor whose practice has the same subway stop as the 59th Street Bloomingdale's, rightfully subtitled "Like no other store in the world".  To avoid carrying multiple Big Brown Bags into the waiting room, I stopped wearing makeup to my appointments.  (Only people with defined eyelashes and glossed lips deserve to interact with the latest Kate Spade dresses.)  However ridiculous and shallow this sounds, it worked.  Now I have to find a method that is just as effective for online shopping.  (Only people with brushed teeth deserve to visit Shopbop.com?) 

Perhaps I should stop thinking about shopping from a reward & demerit perspective, perhaps I should try and find rewards in my yoga practice.  (Rewards other than an excuse to buy a new No Limits tank).  Perhaps if I continue my dedication to yoga, next year I will have achieved a Zen like state where I finally realize that material things don't matter.  I bet if I can make that kind of metamorphosis, I could start my own Self Help line, and that is a great way to make a LOT of money!

Okay, so I have a long way to go.  Until then, pass the New York Times...starting with the Style Section. 

Here Comes the Bride!

Growing up, I never cared about weddings.  When I was a flower girl in my aunt's wedding, I remember riding in a limo and attending numerous annoying dress fittings. (If only I knew how to appreciate my 14 inch waist.)  I tried to host a MLP wedding at Paradise Estate, but my mom got upset with me after I used all of our toilet paper creating a white aisle runner and other various decor.  (As an aside, I didn't own any male MLPs, perhaps this when I became a GLBT ally?)

What a lovely venue!

I never pushed Barbie and Ken into matrimony either.  Maybe this was because Barbie had a wedding gown, while Ken had a wide selection of swim trunks.  I didn't think Barbie should have to settle for Totally Hair Ken, she drove a Ferrari after all.

Who's he looking at?

   

Here's an outfit acceptable for the set of Full House.

Finally a Tux, so what if it looks like a suit worn by a "recovered homosexual".

Perhaps this is why in my young adulthood, I was hesitant to join the wedding hype. (I'd like to think this has something to do with Feminist Pride, and not because of lack of dates.)  Then the invitations  began arriving in the mail, and I realized something...weddings are FUN!  They are an excuse to dress up, eat finger foods and dance all night with the confidence only an open bar can provide!   Then something even better happened...I met someone I wanted to marry.  I wish I could say it was at least 6 months into our relationship before I spent most of my work day investigating wedding vendors, but it was probably 6 weeks.  (Sorry Temp Agency!)

Who knew there were so many awesome places to throw a party, and so many options for wedding entertainment (Jump Shot Photo Booths? Wedding Cornhole!?)  Also, wedding planning re-awakened my love of stationery. (Embossing! Monogram Stamps! Cocktail Napkins covered in photos of the couple's childhood!)  

Isn't Marie Young the luckiest wedding guest EVER?

Courtesy of the Etsy Shop Southern Calligraphy

Fortunately, by the time my husband and I tied the knot, I reined myself in...

We didn't get to have a Step & Repeat,

or a personalized dance floor decal.

Instead, we had a great wedding, it was one of the happiest days of my life.  While we missed out on all the great stuff theknot.com has to offer,  I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a Vow Renewal. 

Where You Lead

I loved the show Gilmore Girls, so much that I seriously considered moving to Stars Hollow after college.  A small town  full of characters and not completely destroyed by America's love of the Big Box Store...sigh.  While Amy Sherman-Paladino made being a former teen mother with a genius daughter seem like one great adventure after another,  one loophole was too deep for my sense of reality.  Both Lorelai and Rory ate about 4000 calories a day, all while looking like they topped out at 1800 and spent quality time in Pilates.  A lot of dialogue focused on their extreme consumption of junk food, and I wonder if it was a way to make them seem "real".  As if healthy eating makes a character crazy and uptight.  But, hey, maybe the Gilmore girls were lucky, their witty banter burned off all of those breakfasts at Luke's Diner.  

And their skin & hair was always so radiant!

photo: http://www.theawl.com/2013/03/a-fans-notes-on-gilmore-girls

Why is it so terrible for a character to care about their health and appearance? After all, it is  mandatory for people in the entertainment industry.  Is it worse to think of a young, 99 pound starlet casually eating cheeseburgers than it is seeing that same starlet airbrushed on the cover of a magazine?  Why can't the young starlet admit to eating mostly salads, and that carrots and celery aren't so bad? Can't an actor be a vegan without being a vegan activist who feeds their babies regurgitated carrots and peas? (Ahem, Alicia Silverstone!) And, who can stop their eyes from rolling when someone admits to avoiding carbs?

Why does every magazine article featuring a young actress include the food on her plate? Why do we, meaning I, a Gossip Magazine Headline Reader, care so much about the digestive systems of the stars?*  I'm not sure, but if biting into a Carl's, Jr. hamburger will turn me into Heidi Klum, I may have to reconsider my vegetarian lifestyle.  Or perhaps the magic of Stars Hollow was not only the small town vibe, but that the water was full of nutrients to compensate for an ill-balanced diet!  

Perhaps the real problem is my love of television, and that I often mistake it for reality.  But if this misconception keeps me thinking that someday I can move to Stars Hollow, I don't want to be right!

*Digestive Systems of the Stars is my new reality show pitch, coming soon to the WE network!

Petra Pan

I haven’t had much to write about lately.  It has nothing to do with all of my free time being dedicated to 3 seasons of Downton Abbey and consequently recovering from the ugly tears evoked from each episode.  Or, that my New Year’s Resolution lasted about ten days, and I am full of shame.  But, the days are getting brighter and my editor has been pressing me for more material.  (Like Lady Edith, my editor and I are romantically entangled.)  Sadly, my primary motivation for writing this post is the big pile of clean laundry waiting to be put away.  Combing my brain for something inspirational about the past couple months is a lot less taxing than pairing up socks.  And, I doubt that I should dedicate an entire post to beer and French fries. 

Six months from now, I will be hitting a milestone birthday.  I always viewed 32 as the age where I would officially become a responsible adult.  (Maybe finally taking the GRE and choose a life direction that would prove my worth and appreciation to the women who broke barriers so that my generation could “have it all”.)  Somehow, hosting at a restaurant and taking improv classes are not exactly the steps to responsibility, even if they are a lot of fun.  (Like the staircase that Paula Abdul and MC Skat Kat dance on.)

Whodda thought?

Slowly, I am trying to adapt more responsible behavior into my life, a little more time at the gym, waking up without the snooze button, regular use of dental floss.  Baby steps to delay the end of my beer and frites phase.  (Calling them frites instead of fries sounds more adult, and less artery clogging.)  On that note, I should probably tackle that pile of laundry, but the dishes?  They can wait until tomorrow. 

Two Turtle Doves for the Price of One!

Sadly, I spent the majority of this holiday season under the weather.  If on the rooftop there arose such a clatter…I slept through it.  I also slept through The Mistletones, but that was probably a secret Christmas miracle.  Luckily, I began to feel better in time to ring in the New Year.  More importantly, I felt better in time to take advantage of the post Christmas sales.

Sometimes the hunt for a good deal turns me a little obsessive.  For instance, this fall a favorite brand of mine offered a top that I really liked/ dreamed about it being mine like I was a lovelorn ABC Family teenager and it was the latest teen d-list heartthrob. Instead of purchasing immediately, I decided to test my luck by waiting until after Christmas. (I was also keeping my fingers crossed for some gift cards.)  On December 26^th, my first stop was the internet, but the web failed me.  If we were supposed to be together, I was going to have to physically go to the store to find it.  (The shopaholic equivalent to standing out in the rain.)

'Tis better to have loved and lost...

Thus I planned my days around trips to the various stores.  It took an altercation with a tourist and getting run over by multiple strollers before I realized that I might have a problem.  Shouldn’t I be saving my money for greater things? (IRA? Vacation? Groceries?) Don’t I have enough clothing to go multiple weeks without doing laundry?  Shouldn’t I be using my time to better myself intellectually and spiritually?  Was I using this top, cute as it was, as an excuse to avoid these tough questions? 

As I woke up on January 1^st, I updated my resolution.  Originally, it was the failsafe “Watch More Television”, but I wanted something more challenging.  So, for 2013, I resolve to shop less.  In doing so, I hope to appreciate what I have, and not just in my closet.

Let the shopping diet begin…after one quick flip through the new J. Crew catalog.