2005-03-05 - 9:53 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Madman Across the Water", Elton John

Monday, February 28th, 2005

OK, I met another work deadline, I'm healthy, and am hoping (ha!) things will be a bit quieter. I have no traveling on the horizon, so I'm going to try to post daily again. Rather than get too crazy, I'll aim for daily but set a minimum of 20 out of the next 30 days. That way if things get crazy I have an out.

Most of you can quit rejoicing now because today I'm just going to blather about designers again.

Remember awhile back I said I didn't have any favorite designers and was finding them all confusing and jumbled together, with the exception of Marc Jacobs and Ralph Lauren? And Monique L'Huillier for dresses?

Well, that seems to be changing a bit.

See, learning about fashion as a phenomenon has been difficult -- I haven't noticed any kind of how-to primer or "Fashion for Dummies" books (I've looked, though admittedly not that hard). I don't have any building blocks presented in a logical order, so I had to just soak up information randomly as it is presented in the magazines and try to make some sense out of it on my own. This is -- in any learning process -- initially extremely frustrating, but very satisfying when the pieces start to fall into place in a cohesive whole. I'm nowhere near that, but I'm starting to see completed sections, I guess.

It'll be interesting to me to see how my opinions of fashion change as I learn more about it. Take Prada, for instance. I noticed that there is a big brouhaha over Prada's Fall 2005 collection. Everyone is raving about what a genius Miuccia Prada is. But I am clearly missing something. I took at look at it, and I didn't really see anything that I liked. It just doesn't catch my eye at all. Here are a few things that other people liked but which bugged me:

I like this flowy fabric and the design, but it's fitted at the bust and then turns into a muumuu.

Right. A nice enough coat (if wrinkled) that looks like somebody threw handfuls of blue spaghetti on key areas.

And here's a couple that just plain bugged me:

(See? She looks like a rectangle.)

This just looks baggy and frumpy to me.

Can anyone explain the genius of Prada for me? It's quite possible I'm completely missing it, and just need somebody to explain it to me. Like most poetry. I usually appreciate poetry much better after somebody else tells me what it's about.

Part of my dislike for the Fall 2005 Prada line may be that I am very, very fond of a body-conscious and/or tailored (preferably both!) look, and a lot of the Prada stuff appears to be just hanging haphazardly on the models. Women -- even "plus-size" women, which a lot of clothes-makers don't seem to realize -- tend to have curves, and I like clothes that show that the curves are there. Skimming the curves (rather than hugging them) is fine, but I'm not a fan of stuff that makes non-round-or-square people look round or square.

It occurs to me that perhaps the Prada clothes are designed to look good on real people, not sticks, though, which is why the sticks don't look good in the clothes -- they're too big for them. That would be kinda nice.

Anyway. What clothes I like is influenced by the fact that I am thin and busty enough to have a fair number of options. I am short and have short legs, so I shouldn't be wearing low-rise pants or capris (though I purchased both before I figured this out and still wear them because, dammit, they FIT), and I can't wear really wide-leg pants either, but other than that I seem to be able to wear a lot of things. And what I love most is fitted clothing with clean lines. I'm finding that there's a lot of this in Versace (along with a lot of skin, which I like even if I'd never wear those clothes out of the house). It does have the occasional frilly stuff but not so much that I'm turned off:

Spring 2005

Fall 2005

There's a lot of noise in the reviews about how Versace is now suddenly so wearable, but the only difference I'm seeing is that they have a few MORE wearable items than they used to. This suit from Fall 2003 shows that there's nothing new about the clean fitted style:

Since my new hobby seems to be looking at slideshows, I'll see how my taste changes over the next few months, and whether I figure out what's so great about Prada.

Tuesday, March 1st, 2005

We had what ended up being about three inches of snow yesterday. Enough that you can drive in it without too much trouble. That didn't stop my neighbors from digging out not just their sidewalks and their cars, but the ROAD in front of their houses. Oh, and somebody did my sidewalk too, before the snow stopped. I don't know who. I do not understand this overzealous shoveling. Poindexter and his mother both tell me to just relax and let them shovel it, but I can't seem to do that. I feel BEHOLDEN and I DON'T LIKE IT!!!! I didn't ask for this! I can shovel my own walk! I WILL NOT BE SHOVELING YOUR WALK JUST BECAUSE YOU SHOVELED MINE, OKAY!?

Honestly, why do people do this? Is it because they just luuuuuurve shoveling and my 20 feet is like nothing for them? Is it because they are trying to passively-agressively tell me they want me to shovel sooner? The city says I have eight hours after the snow ends! I do not have to be shoveling DURING the storm!!

I know they are probably just being nice but it makes me a little crazy because I don't have the faintest interest in reciprocating and so I feel guilty.

On a less agitated note: Prompted by comments in this post of Kit's, I asked Poindexter when he thought our "honeymoon stage" wore off, noting that "Of course this question requires your personal definition of 'honeymoon stage'." He had an interesting answer:

Poindexter: I think we had several "honeymoon stages" coinciding with major events.
Evelynne: What events?
Poindexter: Like moving, home purchasing, wedding.
Evelynne: Tell me more about these honeymoon stages. I don't understand.
Poindexter: The event creates a newness that we share.
Evelynne: Ah, I see!
Poindexter: Like buying and moving into the house in Virginia.
Evelynne: Right.

That's an interesting perspective. It's also very encouraging for the long term. Even though we can't bring newness to our relationship itself, we can bring newness to our life and experience it together, which brings a new kind of closeness. I would imagine that people in good relationships who have kids experience this continually as the kid grows and develops and then when s/he leaves the nest and the parents are alone together again.

But this is all completely different from the hormone stage or infatuation stage, which is what I think John is talking about in the context of the post:

Evelynne: That's different from an infatuation stage, then.
Evelynne: When did that wear off?
Poindexter: Hm...
Poindexter: Tough to say.
Poindexter: The long distance really extended it, I think.
Evelynne: Yeah.
Poindexter: Had to be after you left [your rented room] for good. [this was 1.5 years]
Evelynne: How do you define the end of the infatuation stage?
Evelynne: The best I can do is say it's when the hormone rush wore off.
Evelynne: And I could go longer than five minutes between nookie sessions.
Evelynne: I think it was almost two years.
Poindexter: lol
Poindexter: sounds about right.
Evelynne: Everything else is pretty much the same, except that I can concentrate on things other than you now.
Poindexter: Right.

But like I told Kit, other than the hormone part, nothing much has changed since then. If anything, I feel more secure now, since I know him really well and know where to step. When you're getting to know each other, you can accidentally push each others' buttons, but after nine years together we know what the buttons are and can avoid them, which makes for a very easygoing relationship. And even without the hormone rush helping, Poindexter still gets "attacked", as he likes to put it, on a regular basis. It's like I said -- I can concentrate on things other than him now. But he's still my favorite thing to think about and still my favorite hobby, above the fashion thing, even. ;)

Wednesday, March 2, 2005

Today is Poindexter's birthday. He is THIRDY-FIVE. (I am 33.) He is complaining a lot about being old. Apparently having his wife slobber all over him and tell him he is HAWT on a daily basis is not making up for it. I'll have to step up my efforts. Quite honestly, as long as he still keeps grabbing my butt I don't care how old I am. It's when he quits grabbing that I'll freak out.

Today he came out of the shower and into the bedroom, and I was awake (usually I sleep an extra hour) and I yelled, "IT'S THE BIRTHDAY BOY IN HIS BIRTHDAY SUIT!" I don't think he was quite as amused by that as I was.

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Last night Poindexter mentioned that he'd like to get some better art for the living room walls.

Awhile back, James Lileks linked to some paintings that I really liked, by Richard Estes. James was kind enough to explain the paintings to me, which is always helpful in increasing my enjoyment of a painting. In the text are four links to more paintings. I think I'd like to get a print of one to put in our living room, although the only one available online seems to be a street scene in Paris, which I like well enough, though I'd rather have an American city. It also depends on whether Poindexter likes it.

I am constantly drawn to photographs and paintings of cities. It's a little weird. I'm living in the middle of one, and I want pictures of them in my living room? OTOH, I should have pictures of what I like, right? I like to take pictures of and frame the flowers I'm growing in my backyard, too.

Poindexter, on the other hand, likes sick, twisted pictures. He was instantly enthralled with some painting of a dead bird that we saw on Chestnut Street somehow. I started googling "'dead bird' painting" only to discover that dead birds are a surprisingly popular painting subject.

If anybody knows of a painting with something dead in it that's not obviously a dead thing at first glance (to avoid frightening guests), please let me know.

Thursday, March 3, 2005

One morning on the way to work, we were stuck behind someone in a small car who was taking half an hour to parallel park in a very large space. After sitting there watching them inch into the spot, I yelled,

Evelynne: "OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE JUST GET IN THERE ALREADY!"
Poindexter: [chuckles]
Evelynne: Jeez, I can park quicker than that with the pickup.
[more waiting and watching]
Evelynne: Well, maybe they just moved here [and aren't used to parallel parking].
Poindexter: Nice of you to give them the benefit of the doubt!

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Today I was talking to my mom on IM and put off eating, and I put it off too long. By the time I was shoveling hoisin chicken with broccoli into my mouth, my body was freaking out from low blood sugar. I went downstairs and drank some juice as an emergency measure and then bitched to Poindexter:

Evelynne: I'm having a blood sugar attack as I eat.
Evelynne: STUPID BODY
Evelynne: I'VE GOT FAT IN MY ASS, GO GET IT!

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Man on street, passing out coupons: "Do you like to be pampered at a day spa?"
Evelynne: "You know, actually, I don't!"

It's true. I like to have my hair cut and colored, and I like pedicures, but most of the day spa stuff just doesn't interest me. Facials, massages, ick. I am beginning to think I am the only person on the planet who doesn't like being massaged. The only time I want to be massaged is if I have a knot in a muscle and I want someone to massage it out. Other than that I find it relaxing to have Poindexter rub (as in, lightly run his flat hand over) my back once in a while, but that's it. What really squicks me is when somebody I don't know all that well comes over and starts massaging my shoulders unsolicited. WTF?

Friday, March 4, 2005

As longtime readers know, Poindexter and I are not big on occasions. We don't get each other anything for our birthdays, we've never bought each other Christmas presents, and we'd be perfectly happy (if not happier) celebrating Christmas in July. The only time we bother to have official celebrations is when we celebrate on behalf of other people who like celebrating. Sometimes we even host these celebrations. As rewarding as that is, it's work. Finding presents for people for a specific date can be difficult (as opposed to happening upon something and buying it and giving it "just because"). So when it comes to the two of us, we skip all that work and present-agonizing and just enjoy each other the way we always do, which is certainly nothing to sneeze at. Sometimes we even take a midday nap, which is a special treat, you know.

This amusedly vexes my parents to some extent. They like occasions and they like to party. They are the sole reason I had a wedding. My mother is always teasing us about what "old farts" we are and seems to entertain an ongoing hope that someday, somehow, we will celebrate something related to the two of us.

Our sixth anniversary is next Monday (if I'm remembering the date correctly), and we got a card from my parents in the mail today. Since we don't care about occasions, we opened it immediately instead of waiting. On the front is a photograph of two polar bears, sleeping side by side. It says on the front, "Another anniversary?"

Inside it says, "How can you stand the excitement?"

And written underneath, in my mother's handwriting, is "What better way to 'celebrate'!"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Best. Anniversary Card. Ever.

In other news, I went window shopping today. I wore my new red tweed coat and snubbed my nose at Prada and the whole "black is back" crap (even though this doesn't technically start until next fall).

FYI, the bag and shoes are dark brown. Here's the head-to-toe look:

and here's a close up of me making a face at Poindexter which shows the detail of the tweed and is closer to the true color of the coat:

Saturday, March 5, 2005

There are certain scents that make me dizzy with rapture. I think I've mentioned a few of them before -- garlic, for one, and Poindexter's neck. I've got a new one lately: Yankee Candle's "Fresh Cut Roses". It's just a votive, and I haven't unwrapped it, and I keep it in one of my office drawers. That's enough to give me a delicious whiff of it every now and then and I LOVE IT.

Sometimes I take it out and hold it to my nose and sniff it until I get lightheaded.

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On weekend mornings, we like to lie in bed and snuggle for a half-hour to an hour before getting out of bed. I am usually the first one to want to get out, because my stomach starts complaining. Usually when I try to get out, Poindexter tries to prevent me from doing so. This morning was no exception. I said "I want a Pop Tart" and made a move to get up, and he grabbed me tight and refused to let me move. I grudgingly settled in again, and then he started to PESTER me! Pinching fleshy parts, poking my ribs (which tickles), that sort of thing. I made a leap and got out of bed, yelling, "Jesus CHRIST, you're annoying! If you want me to stay in bed, that's not the way to do it!"

He laughed delightedly, of course. As long as somebody's being pestered by him, all is right in Poindexter's world.

----

I have hit the jackpot lately with cheap clearance clothes. I kinda had my eye on a cropped brocade jacket at Victoria's Secret, but it was $80. Amazingly, I found essentially the same jacket at Mandee today for $13. That it actually fits is the particularly amazing part.

The downside to having all these fun cheap clothes -- many of which mix and match with each other -- is that the choices are starting to paralyze me. This morning I couldn't make up my mind what to wear. Poindexer saw me dithering and said, "Well, you're dropping off the recycling and going grocery shopping, so nothing too stylish." I wailed, "But I have to be stylish! At least a little bit!" I ended up wearing jeans and a sweater and settled for just having color-coordinated accessories.

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