When I was eleven, I burped really loud in gym class; like, so loud that everyone stopped playing Pickle ball and looked around to find out WHODUNIT. My face turned lobster red and one of my idiot classmates crossed his arms and shouted, “Only boys burp.” Nice. Boys have it so easy, I remember thinking. They never seem to struggle to raise their hands in class, don’t have to worry about breast buds and when they burp they receive rounds of applause and laughter.
There is something about dude style life that’s to be envied.
Some Midwesterners pick up snowshoeing or skiing during the cold months. I prefer picking up vintage furs- and putting them around my neck. The common argument against wearing mink or fox out into the world is it creates a look that is “too fancy.” My question is, how is this a problem? If while pumping gas at the Kum & Go, someone scurried over, looked you up and down and stated “ma’m, you’re too fancy” would you bail on the evening? For the sake of your happiness, I certainly hope not. You have every right to pump gas looking like Dame Judi Dench if you please.
I am a believer in wearing vintage furs everyday, especially if it’s January and you just got done with a good cry; the kind of cry where you turn up the Ryan Adams and really feel some things. Or if you’re going to Kum & Go, obviously. But, if the fear of looking too dressed-up is real for you, let me offer a few suggestions.
From July 2015 to December 2015, my most spoken phrase was, “I’m sober as an ox, let me drive.” Giving up all alcohol for six months was a fascinating experiment. Years of mindless drinking inspired me to try a period of mindful abstinence. And I do love doing things to the extreme. For me, it was easier to cut out all alcohol versus reduce consumption to say, 80%. Ordering a drink had become a sort of knee-jerk reaction. Menus were placed on the table at a restaurant and a round of drinks were ordered, like clockwork. A first date meant several glasses of something to shake off the nerves and serve as a sort of Slip n’ Slide to intimacy. I’m grateful that I don’t have a destructive relationship with alcohol, but like most people my age, I engaged in enough weekend nights of binge drinking to have my decisions make for a rough Monday morning. I had developed a drinking habit, and habits have consequences.
On my way to work the other day, my breakfast of Chia seeds, nuts and almond milk exploded in my purse. If you’ve eaten Chia seeds, you know that when mixed with liquid, they form a gelatinous coating making them stick like glue to most surfaces. It was a “and this is why we don’t have nice things” moment. Historically, my purses have been more utilitarian than trendy. I’ve never been the woman who buys a new Kate Spade purse every year. If a purse is too pretty or too expensive, I feel nervous using it. I like a purse that can handle being dropped and spilt on and can hold all the contents of my life. My current purse was recently stolen out of my car, stripped of its contents and left for dead on the side of the street before I recovered it. A few brushes with my hand and it was as beautiful as the day I bought it- a fine example of the kind of hardiness I have come to expect from my purses. When I lived in New York City, I was thrilled by the canvas-bags-as-purses trend. Finally, a place that gets me, I remember thinking.