The Perfect Accessory

You've got to love a purse in which you can carry an entire bottle of wine.

Eyeliner 1,000, Kate 0

I've been calling myself girl-impaired for ages. I can barely dress myself. I have approximately 3 different things I can do with my hair--if all the conditions are right. And I don't understand makeup. I seem to have missed that period in high school where girls experiment with makeup, make themselves look like hookers, and then finally get it right.

When I was invited to the Reading Is Fundamental Gala earlier this month, I paid someone to fix my hair, but I was determined to do the makeup part myself. I went to the M.A.C. store at Columbia mall and threw myself on the mercy of one of their salespeople, who was patient and wonderful and I wish I could remember her name, because you should all go and buy many, many things from her. She did what no one else has been able to do--she showed me how to use makeup, and made it simple enough that I could do it myself. She also sold me over $100 worth of makeup, so clearly she's good.

Well, mostly. I tried using the eyebrow pencil exactly once, made myself look like a clown, and decided that was a battle I wasn't going to fight. The eyeliner, though--that has been a problem. And I don't understand why. I mean, you're basically tracing your eye, right? I can trace. It's about the only art-related thing that I'm good at. I am not good at this.

Usually, I can get my right eye done without any problem. Then my left eye looks like a two-year-old scribbled on it. I don't understand why. I'm using the same hand to do both of them. I would just say screw it and give up, but I actually really like the way it looks, once I manage to get it right. (Usually this takes about 3 attempts.)

Sigh. I'm trying--but I'm still girl-impaired.

Success! And then some...

I didn't find flats I was interested in at Target, but I did find these:



I fell in love with them at DSW, and while they were slightly out of my self-imposed price range, I splurged a bit. I wore them tonight...let's hope they dry out well, because right now they're positively dripping. I hate rain. Thank God moving to Seattle is off the table.

I did find this at Target, which I also wore tonight. I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, so this was absolutely perfect for this evening--a traditional wrap would have been far too dressy, but I needed something to keep myself warm.



I love this thing. I don't know how I lived without it. I actually bought two, one in grey and one in black, because I didn't know which would go better with my outfit. I was intending to return the black one, but I don't think I can resist keeping it. We may have figured out where all of my money goes...

Undergarments

I had an epiphany this morning, as I struggled with a particularly bothersome pair of pantyhose. Now, I do not often wear pantyhose anymore, because really, who does? But this morning it seemed appropriate, because 1) I was going to church, and 2) the bruise described in my last post was still very much in evidence. Despite my threats to make up some wild story featuring O. and a letter opener, I really didn't feel like answering questions about it.

So, as I struggled with these pantyhose, I realized that whenever I get a run, it is always in the left leg. How do I know this? Well, I put the right leg on first, and it's always fine, which gives me hope for the overall fitness of the garment. And then I put on the left leg and it's shot to hell. Because let's face it--the flimsier the pantyhose, the more money we have to spend on new pairs. Sometimes I think my cats climb into my lingerie drawer and claw the hell out of my pantyhose, just for fun. I mean, how else can you explain why the shredded pairs would be in the drawer instead of in the garbage where they belong? I mean, it couldn't possibly be that I threw them on the floor when I took them off, and then picked them up a week later and washed them and put them away...Oh. Wait...

As an aside, I hate the word pantyhose. It sounds...unrefined. But nylons sounds stupid and stockings sounds like the things that are held up by a garter belt, and I do not have enough time in my life to bother with those things. Hence the title of this post...and I know that doesn't really cover it either, but I just could not make myself title a post Pantyhose.

Lethal Fashion

Last weekend, I bought these fabulous boots:



They look even more fabulous in person, because they fit my legs perfectly. And, they're comfortable as long as you're not doing a ridiculous amount of walking in them.

They're also lethal weapons. Exhibit A:



That would be the side of my knee. That would be the side of my knee after I tripped over a box in the library, flailed around trying to stay upright and kicked myself with my right heel.

It bled. It hurt as much as it looks like it did. And it made my fabulous outfit slightly less fabulous.

On the up side, it's two days later and I'm not limping anymore.

I got a cute pedicure the other day...

So this evening, I slipped, fell on my ass and ripped the toenail halfway off my big toe. My toe hurts and my feet aren't cute anymore and I think I'm actually more upset about the second one. Does that mean there's something wrong with me?

Mother Nature is Trying to Kill Me

It is completely unfair for the weather to be in the 70s and 80s if it's not going to stick. I took all of my summer clothes to the dry cleaner but now my feet are cold because I wore the cute sandals today.