Remember this behemoth? Perhaps you tripped over it on your doorstep. After all, this sucker must weigh close to 10 pounds. It could act as a structural support for your house, right? All delivery people probably cursed it to the hot country and back.
After listening to everyone wail about how much Restoration Hardware must hate the Earth and all that stuff, I decided to do a quick comparison with another retailer of home goods.
On the left is the once-a-year catalog dump from that company which must really like killing trees. On the right is Pottery Barn, minus 2 of its monthly editions, some random specialty issues, and all of their spin-offs (PB Teen and PB Kids and who knows what else). Maybe it's not a surprise to you, but I got curious about whether RH deserved the chiding.
So... depending on how you look at it... both retailers (as well as probably many others like J. Crew) tie for, well, sending us an annual catalog collection worthy of some bench pressing.
Did you receive RH's bundle? What was your reaction?
I've been well overdue for a catalog purge. As the weeks go by, the pile grows higher. And as y'all know by now, I will hold on to anything that might inspire creativity. This translates to a fairly crippling inability to just chuck things and be done with it. I'm one of those nuts who needs to peruse each page (and rip out anything eye-catching) before tossing the volumes into a recycling bag.
Thankfully, we were treated to an absolutely glorious weekend of sun and 80 degree temps. And since Upper Midwesterners are painfully aware that our little slice of heaven could end at any time, we're basking in the outdoors every possible second. Soaking up each sun ray as we try to deny the light's changing, and the days are getting shorter.
So, I spent a very lazy and sunny afternoon on the porch. Just me, a stack of Pottery Barns and Title Nines, and Mother Nature's best. Oh, and Lila. If I'm going to do some housecleaning, might as well take it outside while summer pretends to hang around. Because it's only a matter of time before it decides to pack up and head south for the winter.
So, my friends know I tend to hold on to things from the good ol' days. Like my very first Trapper Keeper, a busted-a$$ shelf-with-mirror made in 7th grade woodshop (why anyone let a bunch of 12 year-olds near a band saw still baffles me), and piles of cassettes, including self-tapings of radio shows recorded by holding down the "play" and "record" buttons at the very. same. time.
I also can't quite part with some of my old clothes. Superficial or not, they bring back memories of hitting the mall to do back-to-school shopping; the start of a new year full of new teachers, friends, and experiences. And they are a funny and tactile testament to my style (or lack thereof) back in the day. I found these doozies in my old dresser, untouched for years, and epitomizing the season with their warm colors and fabrics.
Go ahead and laugh at how dated they might look, especially that shirt (yes, of course it's J. Crew!). I procured the skirt from Cambridge Dry Goods, a sort of country-meets-preppy collision of a store that was popular with moms and a random demographic of girls, including myself.
Funny thing is, I see that plaid and colorblocking are all the rage this Fall. Maybe not quite like this, but it's entertaining to see the cyclical nature of trends. And while I don't plan to wear these to work, running my hands over the flannel and corduroy bring back the warm fuzzies of fashions past.
Happy Autumn!
So who else is not exactly sure how to dress the last couple of days? Call it weird weather. Call it denial. Wasn't it August two weeks ago? Tonight's low temp is supposed to be 38 degrees. WTH happened? And I'm not even going to start on Calgary (I seriously feel for you guys).
While part of me is giddy to trot out all those Fall frocks, most of me is making a Grumpy Cat face at the thought of, you know, winter. Because, up here, that lasts for about six months. Or nine.
How do you deal with weather that can't quite make up its mind? Do you also look seasonally-challenged at the bus stop?
Image: This lovely ensemble comes from my first blog life. You can read about it here.
In the midst of all those September Issues and now NYFW (yup, New York Fashion Week), it's easy to forget that there's yet another Target collaboration on the horizon. While nothing can probably compare to the zigzag pandemonium of Missoni, people are atwitter about this next collection, and for good reason. Joseph Altuzarra's collection offers sleek, sophisticated looks that veer away from the girly (Jason Wu) and graphic (Phillip Lim) partnerships of seasons past.
In full disclosure, I should mention that I, in fact, work for Target at their HQ. However, my line of employment is a distant cry from the marketing glitz and fashion glam. Indeed, my big trips don't include meeting celebs and fun sketches of apparel. Rather, I spend my time covered in dust on construction sites, sometimes throwing my hands up at the general contractor, and sometimes they're throwing their hands up at me. Oh, and then there are the port-a-potties that I get to share with all the construction dudes.
Anyhoo, back at the mothership, I and other team members were afforded a glimpse of the Altuzarra goods, and so far I can say they look promising. Enough so that I'll be firing up my laptop on Sunday AM to nab a few things.
Who else is excited about this line, and what are you eyeing?
Image: target.com
Change is a constant thing. We all accept it, even if we don't always like it. Next month, I'll mark a decade of having lived not only in this state, and in this city, but in a neighborhood that isn't defined so much by lines on a map but rather by where the locals deem it to reside. Here, I graduated from a small but cozy apartment to a duplex when I got married, and on to a real house (something I hadn't lived in since before college!) a few years ago. All the moves were within a few blocks of each other, because I have come to love this area so much, and my husband has called it home for over 20 years. Having moved from just north of downtown Chicago, I wanted a place that offered similar advantages - tons of shops, restaurants, and bars nearby, local businesses aplenty, easy access to public transportation, and just a place overall where people want to live. While I lost my short walk to Lake Michigan, I did gain a whole chain of small lakes equally close by, and arguably more pedestrian-friendly.
Uptown is still in demand, and seemingly even more so with the recent spike in "luxury apartment" construction. There's no shortage of places to grab a drink, dine, and walk out with a new dress, vintage shoes, or even a fancy gas grill. But, similar to the laments heard in any city, the place has changed. Long before I arrived, Uptown was grittier, edgier. More punk rock types hung out here than those flocking to H&M and CB2. During my short tenure, I've watched the transition continue. The Tibetan restaurant, the vintage book store, and various indie clothing shops fell to make way for chains. The North Face appeared in their place. Incredibly, Columbia Sports popped up next door to it - yes, two fleece-filled stores in a row! When we watched them raze the next building, it was hard not to snark a "What's that gonna be? Patagonia?"
The bitterness was especially strong for some people with that new vacancy. Because the rubble belonged to a neighborhood institution. Home to many old-guard regulars and anyone needing a hangover cure in the form of grease and more booze, the Uptown Bar was our local. Bathed in a cigarette haze for years (til the smoking ban hit), you waited for a table with a large Bloody Mary or screwdriver in hand. Once seated, you finished off your drink, ordered another, and enjoyed it with a massive, heart-attack-inducing skillet. My favorite one was a delicious mish-mash of Polish sausage and hash browns, smothered in cheese and soaked in grease. Pretty much everyone was welcome. The bar also had a stage, which hosted many bands over the years, including a hometown fave, the Replacements. Over the years, one could argue the Bloodys were getting weaker, or the crowd looked like they'd rather see Maroon 5 than the Velvet Underground. Still, something about walking into that dive bar felt comforting and right.
Apple opened its glassy doors on the old bar site. While I'm thankful a third technical-apparel outpost did not rise from the Uptown's ashes, it still makes me (and a lot of others) sad when we pass by the sleek, new building. We get it. Things don't last forever. But watching the death of this legendary spot - where those who'd moved from Madison, either of the Dakotas, or even Chicago would take their visiting pals and call it "their bar" - felt like someone had taken "change" and underlined, italicized, and bolded the word. Upsized it to a 100 point font. And then thrown a pair of smartwool socks at it.
Which all brings me to this little shirt pictured above. My husband's birthday present to me. Limited run shirt that brings back memories of hanging out with friends, whether it be in those sticky booths or at a table near the stage, bonding over our love of all things artery-clogging and liver-damaging. Whether we'd closed down some other spot a few hours before, had just hit the gym or run around the lake, or simply slept in, the Uptown Bar was a great autopilot destination.
Old friend, you may be gone, but you'll always live on in our hearts - grunge, grease, and all.
You know what's funny? As I pore over my Vogue, and admire the photography, textures, and articles, I keep coming back to my dang InStyle for images I want to share. Like this one:
What a gorgeous picture, and I wouldn't mind borrowing that dress, either. Maybe it's the model, which brings to mind Keira Knightley a la Pride and Prejudice. Perhaps it's the dark background, from which she seems to pop. It even feels a trace McQueen. Gothic, regal, and perfect for the cooler weather.
Yes, please.
Image: InStyle
