Kentucky Derby and the evil eye

Do you ever find yourself out and about, shopping for a tank top that doesn’t don a stain from red wine (whoops, had a little too much!) and walk in with a coffee stain on the current shirt? Buying a box of tampons knowing you’re going to get the Super Plus and throw in chapstick to ease the checkout process? Or how about the personal favorite, picking up laxatives and find yourself being sized up by a clerk at the store or a fellow shopper?

Quick story: One night I had gone over to a boyfriend’s house to find him laying on the couch looking like he was in serious pain. He started complaining about spending the day with clients, blah blah blah and then got to the root of the bellyache. He was constipated. Not the typical conversation you want to have, and obviously he was too pained to care. He asked me to buy something that would ‘help him out.’ Like a good girlfriend I got up, went to the pharmacy and got laxatives and to be a smarty pants picked up an enema box and a few other items (i.e. chewable chocolate laxatives) as a ribbing for making me go out for the purchases. As soon as I got back to his house, handed him the bag and was getting ready to leave he shouted back. “Thank god you had to buy that.” What a wimp, but I did get looks at the store (especially during the checkout) and fell into a hilarious discussion with the pharmacist on which tablet was the best to take. No big deal.

A friend asked several people to help out and model some of her clothes for an event over the weekend. This is nothing too big; it’s a selling point in getting people into her store. I was one of those people, and with the help of zero coffee (uh oh) and two mimosas (thank god, but still uh oh no coffee)the first set of clothes and a strut went out on the floor gracefully. I noticed a few other people working the crowd, some of which were two women wearing massive Kentucky Derby style hats. They were gorgeous, perfect for a royal wedding. Things may turn nasty.

After shutting down the men’s washroom for a quick dressing change, because there was absolutely no way I was going to flash the derrière to the bar staff and an incredibly handsome host. Now had they offered a cup of coffee well then I’d flash them a whole lot more, it could have been like Mardi Gras. But no luck so into the washroom it was.

The second wardrobe set was paying homage to the 1920’s with a modern twist. I was in a silky flapper-inspired slip with a shimmery tank over, high heels and nothing other than a gorgeous hat. A hat one would wear to the Kentucky Derby. A royal wedding. It can’t be too bad right? Styles are different, this is more classic, vintage. Shoot.

Dressed and ready to mingle, a friend and I paired up and again started walking through the sea of manicured gossip networkers only to stop at a table of potential new clients. My friend turned to me and whispered that I was getting a death kill look from one of the other hat ladies. Naturally what do you do?

{Courtesy of Google}

Look at the other hat ladies. You could practically hear the hiss coming from across the room. Almost in unison, both women glared at me and that’s when it happened. I got the lookdown. It was disturbing. Worse than getting the pat down at the airport or entering an arena. Those women were eyeing me up and down from across the room and they did not like what they were seeing.

The mimosas did their trick, because lord knows where the confidence came from to not flee. All I did was smile at them and then lean into the group my friend had been talking to just a minute before and joined in on the conversation.

This happens all of the time with women. The eyes go up and down and rank another person out from top to bottom. Brand to thread. It’s like reading the cover of a book and saying-yes or no in a split second. Those ladies were pissed, none too pleased, and what can I say. It was great. The hat got complimented, the fringe on the slip stole a few glances and created several clients and did I once do a look-down at those women?

Nope, without thinking I complimented their hats when they walked in before the show even started. What an idiot. I didn’t even think for a minute that they would have taken offense, this I blame on the lack of coffee to which lead to the loss of a proper thought process. Talk about blonde moment for putting your foot in your mouth, but at least it looked good.

How to dress like a twin and make it look good

Girls Weekend has taken over the town like an early spring’s night dream. The hot spot restaurants have opened their doors and rolled out the red carpets for the local merchants and boutiques to spread the word of what is in store for Spring Fashion Trends. Suburbia style.

With this comes nights out to prepare for what’s in store, literally. Happy Hours beckon and reel you in with their $5 specials on cosmos (such a girlie drink but they’re so good, don’t hate!) and tasty nosh.

Last night with the kickoff for the weekend extravaganza I met up with some people to indulge before taking part in the festivities.

We met up at apparently the place to be on a Thursday night. This is a small yet prominant town. When you go out, you don’t go out in leggings and a Target tunic (check this one against, this girl lives in leggings and bargains). You (does not point in this general direction) go out in Prada and are in search for the next boy toy.

I have landed into the fiery pit that is known as Cougarville and their golden eyes were out last night, the peripheral vision, primal. While sipping my sparkling and very tasty beverage I could not help but notice that the bar was loaded to the brim with ladies who were on the prowl. We’re not talking non-obvious folks. We’re talking 95:5 ratio of women to men, some who have been sipping wine all day getting their nails manicured, leaving their husbands at home for the evening so they can de-stress with their women’s group to play bridge. This is what they tell their husbands.

Terrible, horrible, very truthful statement. And I apologize flat out for any lady out there that this may apply to. Not really. Quit the bridge club, divorce your husband and go have fun. Or, maybe don't cheat?

While sitting at the bar taking in this whole new eye adventure and walking trainwreck I saw another younger woman rush through the bar. This younger woman was wearing stripes. Similar stripes. Exactly the same striped tunic I had been wearing but in a different color.


Who Wore it Best?

Heat flooded my cheeks, I hate this. How does this happen? I am not a trendsetter but I like to follow a few trends and mash it up with my own sense of style. How am I in a bar and wearing the same clothes as someone? All of this running through my head until I hear my name being shouted at from behind.

It happens because we both spend time at the same store. It happens because people with similar style seek similar items. It happens with people you call friends. I turned around and immediately started laughing, what’s new. When in doubt. Laugh. There behind me was a friend in almost the exact outfit I donned as well.

Twins. To a lower case t.

A couple of men sat behind both of our tables and joined in our laughter because this could and only would happen during a weekend such as this. We immediately took a photo and sent it to our friend who owns the boutique we spend our days in and within minutes it got posted to the facebook business page. Which led to multiple comments. All of which led to more laughter and more ideas of how to not find embarrassment out of situations like this and turn it into something bigger and badder.

So here’s a few little tips if you find yourself in the same situation to make your outfit standout if you do happen to be standing next to your dressed up doppelganger.

1. If you’re wearing a longer tunic, knot one end high up on the hip and let the other side dangle. It creates an altered appeal to the top and will reveal more of the sheer slip underneath. (text tip #1 and I took it!)

2. Baby it’s cold outside…do you carry a neck warmer in your bag? Put it on, or better yet wrap it around a free wrist. But honestly, who carries these? (text tip #2 Fail.)

3. Is there a flower on the table? Take it and put it behind your ear. If that makes you feel like a klepto, do it anyways. Live on the edge.

Even though the fabric may be the same, every outfit is different if you make it unique. Lessons learned via text messages and Facebook comments. Social Media...Thank you!

Being thankful

Keeping this one short for the week’s end. Today is the start of Girls Weekend in town and I’m heading out to an interview (PLEASE JESUS HEAR MY PRAYERS, I’m not religious…is this bad?) and then jetting off to spend the day following fashion and a bunch of other things.

Spring is inching closer and closer, you can smell it in the air and see it in everyone’s faces. We’ve survived the frigid temperatures, the blizzard that shut down the city and can only expect warmth and a thawing of the ground. That and to hang the parka up in the way back of the closet feels really great today.
With that, these are a few of the things that I am most grateful for, for this week.

{Courtesy of Google}

I am thankful that each day calls were coming in regarding positions that were applied for. For the back to back interviews that seemed endless but still happened and are still happening. Things could be looking up, no?

I am grateful for the thoughtfulness of the company that is McStarbucks and for thinking of warm beverage consumers who drink and drive. Thank you for placing the green lizard imprinted stirrer in the lid so the drink doesn't spill in a moving vehicle!

I am so very thankful for the overstuffed bathtub that has become a personal sanctuary in the washroom. With the passing of each night, the lights have gone out, candles have been lit and the warmth of the bubbly water soothed any worries away.

Lastly, I am thankful that the sun has been radiant each and every single morning once the low clouds have burned off. With the sun shining outside, there is no reason for it not to shine deep within and for that I am most thankful.

Are you feeling thankful today?

Have a very safe and wonderful Friday

Dear Twenties....

It’s coming, time is not stopping and what has been viewed as the apocalypse for women, atleast this woman is about to happen. Here lies at the end of this month the end of a decade filled with prime experiences and the start to a fresh and new period. [Grab some coffee and pop a xanax because it’s about to get philosophical.]

Dear Twenties,

We’ve been together for a decade now and the time is approaching for us to sever our ties and move on. While we’ve been together for so long it’s going to be a difficult separation because we’ve been through a lot and thought I was comfortable with but realized that I’ve outgrown you and it’s time you live a life without me. You need to let me go.

When we first met we were breaking out of comfort zones trying to find ourselves with friends we thought were there for us but in turn were there for trips to Canada, times spent away from what was important and spent on partying and getting lost in a sea of being numb. You showed me that every day is different from the next and when the sun rises so does our soul and with that got me back on track and back in the right direction. Tossing aside hard parties, bad boys and reeled in history books and college applications for a place that will always be home. A place that you knew was as much a part of me as the hair on my head.

While at university we moved away for the first time and knew we could do it. We could find, have and really know what it meant to experience fun. We met friends that became family and opened new doors to seeing the world through clear eyes. We traveled the world and discovered that life is more than a grey cubicle and can be anything we really and truly want.

The last few years have passed by with the blink of an eye but have been nothing short of noteworthy. We’ve seen births, deaths, engagements and divorces. We’ve had surprises that have turned into letdowns but ultimately they’ve told us everything we need to know, we weren’t ready for what is about to come. Moves have brought us strength, breakups have brought us independence and a search for nothing perfect but something comfortable and fitting.

We’ve accomplished a lot more than what could have been expected and I am thankful for your support but I must leave you now in order to move forward. No I’m not going to start wearing mumus and get gray hairs and if I do I have a colorist who can fix that snarky little problem in no time. It’s time for a change and that time is now. So I’m going to walk away and not look back, because it’s for the best for both of us. I love you and will never forget you. Thank you for all of the memories.

Morgan

In twenty nine days I will be leaving my twenties behind and heading into the big bright shining star that is the big THREE OH.

Is there anything that I can’t do that hasn’t been done during the past ten years? Apart from getting drunk in school girl uniforms, cage dancing, random encounters with Scottish futbol players, international travel, and a whole lot of moves sandwiched in between? I’d like to think not.

The years have mostly been filled with moments of self discovery and exploring different extremes to see what paths they lead to. They have taken me to such locations I’d never dreamed about had I not dared to believe and trust what could be.

It has been a period for growing up, a phase for maturing. Of course growing up I had created visions of what things would look like, how they could turn and needless to say. Those were only pipe dreams, fun to have in memory but reality hits.

After putting off university because a party personality had taken over and having to explain to patients while checking them in that getting a tongue piercing was ‘the thing to do’ I made the wisest decision of my life. Grow up and get a damn education.

When you catch yourself looking around second guessing if you’re ever going to be something rather than a medical receptionist working 14 hour days it’s time to make a decision. University was just that, I stopped partying. Took out the tongue ring, but got another tattoo to replace it and enrolled in extra classes at the local community college. I tossed out the party girl and never looked back. Which lead to endless opportunities and countless prospects.

In giving thanks, Thank you for the countless times hairstyles and clothes got tossed through the air like candy wrappers. For the cautious reminders that mixed drinks are not a viable option on nights out but shots of tequila will go down like water. For the many men that have come and gone and taught me things that I probably don’t need to know but am certainly glad I do know because there is a reason they’re still not hanging around.

Mostly, thank you for the 3,652 days that have been filled with ups and down, sunshine and snow and experiences that I would never trade nor regret for this lifetime or the next.

It has taken twenty nine years and 336 days to finally get over the anxiety when that should have been replaced with a little excitement or at least eased with some expensive champagne. I can’t help but think that turning 30 is basically like turning twenty all over again. It’s a new time only this time I’m looking at this through clearer eyes that are steady and unafraid. There’s more anticipation to see what can happen and how I can make it happen.

Birthdays have never been a big deal and I don’t plan to change that up this year, but I will go into this new period without any expectations. Without creating an elaborate vision of what could be and just experience it for what it is and keep doing things that bring a smile to the face. I’m opening my mind and heart to this new time and think it couldn’t have been a better time to turn into this new age.