UnLucky

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).

Rain, Rain, Stay All Day

You know what would be so freaking awesome? If it would just rain some more. Truly, it just has not rained enough this spring. For sure my feet have perma-sog, but that is a small price to pay for the joy that is chilly, wet overcast days, weeks on end. I honestly hope that we never see a sunny warm day ever again, and I commemorate this desire with a $21 floral blouse covered in flowers, all in varying shades of glorious gray.

Gift Me

It is my birthday month (yes, I get a whole month, I am just that awesome), and all my good friends are helping me celebrate! My pal Mr. Loehmann, my buddy Ms. Sephora, the friendly Mr. B. Republic and my new BFF, Dr. Antrhopologie.

OK, I do have actual human friends and family and they may remember my birthday, but they typically do not offer me a set of lip glosses, $15 of free merchandise, or clothing at an additional 15% off. Or this awesome glazed leather bag for $85, courtesy of my aforementioned BFF. Of course, a true BFF would figure out just where I am supposed to store all these bags. And she would not say, "wherever the frick you're gonna store all those boots, you boot-n-bag-crazy fool." Becuase that is not a nice way to talk to the birthday girl.

It's Warm! It's Warm! It's Warm!

Love this for $19.50, under a suit, or with jeans. Of course, I prefer the Kansas version,

but you may prefer the Oz version, in technicolor.

Secret Vice

I have a thing for belts. It is not unlike my thing for boots. Well, it is unlike my thing for boots in that my belt obsession is more easily hidden, as I can fit all the belts on a belt hanger in my closet. Here is the one I am most recently obsessing over, $14 with a coupon. Perfect for one of those 'it's-a-shirt, no-it's-a-dress, no-it's-a-shirt' shirts. Or dress.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

These $30 knee-high boots are calling to me. "Jayn, won't you take us in? We have never had a real home to call our own. And we just know we would love it with you With all the other boots you have already taken in, every day would be like a party!"

But, alas, I must respond, "O, beautiful, brown boots of a height I do not yet possess, I just cannot take you in. I have sworn an oath to leave space in my room for a bed."





Being so cruel to those innocent, and inexpensive, boots has left me feeling like a true bitch. Which is to say, I feel like myself. And so I very much want to welcome this $15 'Bitch is the New Black' shirt to my overcrowded middle drawer. Except the two family members in their formative years can both read, and will without a doubt shout the text on this shirt far and wide, causing Child Services to remove them from my custody. And as much as that would provide me with a well-deserved break, the whole episode would, in the end, cost me dearly child in psychologist fees. And so I leave this item behind as well.

Chain Gang

It feels like all I do lately is work. Well, there has been some cookie-eating, especially yesterday. And it would be a baldfaced lie to claim there was no hot chocolate-drinking. And, of course, there is the diet coke-drinking, but that is more of an intravenous drip and less of an activity.

To mark my constant feeling that I am a prisoner on a chain gang, I am considering these $50 boots. The connection is a bit of a stretch, I know, but when I work so hard, I feel I deserve gifts. And who best knows what those gifts should be? I do, I do!