So - which ass-kicking boots do I buy?

Monday, May 24, 2010

Make Your Own Lucky

My Lucky abandonment is complete. I am now faced with post-traumatic store syndrome, brought on by the homogenization and boringification of my favorite retail outlet. I attend twelve step meetings and have an official, turquoise-adorned, flowy-sleeved sponsor. But between the meetings and texts to my sponsor, I find myself trawling sites and stores in search of that same feeling that Lucky used to bring me.

My latest find is this $25 blouse. I liked the adorned smockiness and the gauzy feel. For all that, though, it is a weak substitute. It is the methodone of boho blouses.

Thursday, May 13, 2010


Lucky is no longer. Oh, sure, it exists, but it is no longer Lucky. Now it's some other store entirely. Some store selling basic, Gap-like tanks in a variety of bright hues, tied up with twine in cute little bundles, at two-fer prices. The store is clean and bright and has big displays with pictures of freshly scrubbed 18-year-olds wearing boring American Eagley clothes. Who wants that? Maybe freshly scrubbed 18-year olds. Who need multiple tanks.

As you can imagine, this situation has inspired quite the identity crisis in me. Where will I buy my Stevie Nicks floor length velvet coats, for hanging out with the stoners? Who will crochet me granny-square scarves? Am I to cobble my own giant clogs with studs or pre-distresesd motorcycle boots (for wearing on the subway, of course)? These are some of the very many questions Lucky, and its new parent company, Liz Claiborne, have left me with.

I conferred with the two managers (who no doubt were preparing to act as bouncers, should I reach the hysterical state I seemed to be working myself into) at my local Lucky store, and learned that, for now, the accessories were still from the old, Gene-and-Barry, long-live-rock-n-roll Lucky. So, I bought these $54 shoes as one last hurrah (and possibly some earrings... and a set of bracelets). With a 5 inch heel they make me hugely tall and vaguely menacing. Should be very helpful the next time I run into Tim Gunn in my neighborhood and proceed to take him to task for destroying my store. No doubt I'll be asked to remove them for the mugshot and/or visit with the court-appointed psychiatrist (I do hope it's B.D. Wong).