Pinching Myself

I don't know if it's all the extra holiday advertising or the fact that the end of my Not New year is approaching, or simply that Mickey has started polluting my in-box with tawdry come-ons like this:



but I am SERIOUSLY jonesing right now. Like making 2009 buying lists jonesing. I just feel...itchy. Goes to show that an addict/hobbyist/enthusiast/professional is an addict/hobbyist/enthusiast/professional no matter how long it's been since she's purchased newly minted cashmere.

No Such Luck.

Well, the jury is in on the folks - not my folks, the ones who own HCB's three million nieces and nephews. They have reluctantly voted against the experiences-for-Xmas thing. Apparently, they all love the idea, but find the scheduling problematic and ultimately, impractical.

Merf.

Of course, the news has sent me running straight back to my old flame. Have you SEEN the Crewcuts line? Seriously, who wouldn't want to dress their kid up like this?



Or this?



Or this?! GAWD!



(BTW, HCB has mostly nieces.)

Hard to ignore the gift of fashion when your green intentions fail you. We tried to give gift certificates to kids consignment shops once, but that didn't work out either. (Tough to assess used stores from a distance of several thousand miles.) So I don't know what we're going to do. Anybody seen any cool eco style for little girls?

And as for you, adorable adult-sized metallic ballet flats,



kindly refrain from haunting my dreams.

It's official: I'm full of it.

I've spent a whole lotta time here at TBONTB attempting to define my relationship with shopping. At various points, I've called it a syndrome, an addiction, a coping mechanism, and a natural proclivity (in fact, sometimes all in the same post). I've described fashion as a source of pure, exuberant self-expression (which I still believe - or at least the exuberant part). I've exposed my secret fear that by walking (okay tiptoeing) away from consumerism, I might lose my sense of self.

Yeah, that's a bunch of bullshit.

A few months ago, I helped my shopping-phobic friend Sara find her wedding dress. We scored big-time in no time: a stunning, unique, no-alterations-necessary Angel Sanchez for less than a sixth of the original price. At her bachelorette party this weekend, I described this as perhaps the greatest shopping coup of my life. I was then reminded that I also picked out her homecoming and senior prom dresses - and probably made the same proclamation at both junctures.

A few days later, I was doing the eco blog rounds and came across this quote from the documentary "What Would Jesus Buy?"

"In a hundred years Americans will find another way to have fun besides shopping. My worry is that we won't have time to evolve these changes at the usual rate - by then we will derail the earth's systems, especially its climate."

It struck me like an Acme(R) anvil: For the last 25 years, shopping has been my hobby. In fact, it's our national hobby. I'm surprised we haven't tried to make it an Olympic sport.

It's so Duh Factor that I don't know how I never saw it before. I guess I wanted it to be more important than that. After all, shopping was also my creative outlet.

Well, after seven months of testing the waters, I no longer worry that walking away from consumerism will divest me of my sense of self. In fact, if anything, it's helping me FIND my sense of self. Thanks entirely to NOT shopping (and the miracle of the Interweb), I'm finally putting my creative energy where I've always wanted it to go. This blog is first opportunity I've taken to explore my own voice, the first place I've never had to use the word 'innovation'. And it's so much more FUN than completing transactions at jcrew.com.

Of course, that doesn't mean I'll ever stop shopping completely. Old habits die hard.

Hey Sara, you sure you don't need a ball gown?

Quicken Earth July: Stripper Supplies

I'm guessing you've noticed by now that the conversation around here has expanded beyond the Not New. That's because I'm bored out of my mind talking about it. Aren't you?? All the buying and not buying and wanting and refusing to want...I've settled into a sort of acceptance of it. I am, how you say, blasé.

That doesn't mean I'm no longer committed to it (I am) or that the funny/frustrating/tormenting stuff doesn't happen anymore (it does), but the eco run-off from this experiment is what's exciting to me now. So I'm giving it some turntables and a microphone. Thought I should warn you that you're in for more.

Now back to your regularly scheduled buying and not buying and wanting and refusing...


OOPS!
Alyssa and I are the organizing committee for Sara's bachelorette party this weekend, so in addition to booking cabins and arranging rides and planning meals, we've engaged in a protracted conversation re: obligatory penis paraphernalia. Being that I cannot buy any new penises, Sara is probably safe. But the whole episode reminded me - with horror! - that I DID BUY NEW PENISES IN JANUARY. In a nod to the Bachelorette Gestalt, I purchased a packet of glow-in-the-dark man sword straws for Liza's bachelorette dinner, from which we slurped our Prosecco and took many a jolly photo.

So, to date:
Jan 11: one lingerie bag
April 27: one pair cheap tawdry sunglasses
Jan 10: one package glow-in-the-dark penis straws

My friend Craig always does this thing where, when I pull off some ridiculous dance move, he tries to guess what I'm doing. Example: I'll be doing the cabbage patch, and he'll be like "You're stirring risotto!" "You're winding Big Ben!" "You're driving a cable car!" etc. Right now I'm imagining what he'd say if he applied the same deductive reasoning to this list.


NECESSITIES
I picked up three new pairs of undies and a bra while in TJ Maxx. It's allowed, and it was time.

Aside: I once read an eco hipster in Domino argue that shopping at places like TJ Maxx is actually earth-friendly because they sell overstocks from other stores. This makes almost no sense to me, but I'll just keep it in the old back pocket as my Chewbacca defense.


CREATIVE CONSUMPTION (i.e. USED ARTICLES)
As you may recall, I celebrated our nation's independence by going vintage shopping in Palm Springs and Venice Beach and consignment shopping in Orange County. Let's just say I was feeling really patriotic.


UP FOR DISCUSSION
To that point, behold this adorable purveyor of new and reworked vintage fashion, Madley, in Venice Beach:



While trolling the racks with my cohort Kendra, I found the finest maxi dress in all the Kingdom:



You see that there? Nice lines, good length, cute pattern, and most importantly, no mumu-ism. Obviously I had to have it. But only after 25 minutes of pacing and lip-biting and even requesting a phone call to the designer, Luxury Jones in Portland, to find out if the fabric was indeed vintage/reworked. Her response: she didn't remember where the fabric for that specific dress came from (though she did know the specific dress), but she'd had it forever and she almost exclusively buys remnants and vintage anyway. Is it time to pull out the Chewbacca defense yet?

ABSTENTIONS
I'm cool, Peeps. It's getting to the point that I'm prejudiced AGAINST new stuff. New stuff is so...pedestrian. Let them wear J.Crew.

Quicken Earth May: Paradise Lost, and Found

You may have noticed a decided lack of blogtivity this last month: all my words have been reserved for paying clients. Which is another way of saying that I am this close to having more work than me wee brain cells can process. Which is another way of saying that I am (or will be) rolling in loads of cash that I cannot spend on impulse buys.

So I'm thinking about absconding to Morocco instead. Doesn't this look like Heaven?



OOPS!
I didn't really elaborate on this earlier, but holy sweet mother of god JESUS did I come close to breaking the rules during that bout of BLPOES (Book Launch Party Outfit Emergency Syndrome) a few weeks back. See Abstentions for the unabridged account.

Also, Wasteland wouldn't take those stupid sunglasses back, so I guess I have my second new purchase to claim. (First one: accidental lingerie bag on Jan 11.)

This is disappointing and just...bogus. I always figured that if I faltered, it would be for something really last-a-lifetime GOOD. Like tender virgin baby cashmere loungewear, or the most luxurious and comfortable couch in the universe. Instead, I ended up with two totally nonessential, totally nonglamorous Made-in-China pieces of crap, all because I wasn't paying enough attention.

But I suppose that underscores the point now, doesn't it? Conscious consumption. Aka: try to be, like, actually awake when you approach a cash register.


NECESSITIES


(To be perfectly honest, I think I exceeded this bottle count.)


CREATIVE CONSUMPTION (i.e. USED ARTICLES)
I feel as though most of my month--or at least my consumption this month--was defined by BLPOES. The following is a list of previously owned items I purchased while searching for that ever-elusive perfect outfit:

classic vintage short wool trench: $50
designer eggshell bracelet-sleeve leather jacket with 'glamorous sleuth' collar: $211
fire engine red silk DKNY blouse: $59
shiny black self-buckle belt: $25
Barney's wafer thin heather cotton cardigan with handmade buttons: $59
three ridiculously expensive (but amazing) vintage Lucite bracelets: $58 each

one ridiculously expensive vintage sterling silver heart lock necklace: $209
and one Batik-esque booby cotton dress/top/schmatta (with handy pockets!): $8

Total: $736

I know what you're saying. You're saying I'm a complete lunatic. You are not entirely wrong. I was flung into a state of temporary madness by BLPOES. I bought more than I should have, I paid more than I should have, I spent more than I should have. But the important thing is that I did not succumb to Newness. (Also: I really love everything.)

And I know what else you're saying. You're saying that I just told you I was absconding to Morocco because I can't use my cash for impulse buying, and yet I spent $736 last month on impulse buys.

Oh Honey.

These were not impulse buys. It took the better part of a week to uncover this stuff from the endless color-coded racks of rich people's fashion detritus. I missed deadlines to uncover this stuff. I sweated and fretted and LABORED to find this stuff. I never wanted to shop AGAIN after finding this stuff. For serious. Shopping vintage is HARD. And if you're busy with work, there's simply no time for it. Hence Morocco. (Clearly still hacking away at that deeply ingrained need to BUY! BUY! SPEND! SPEND! BUY!)


UP FOR DISCUSSION
Sometimes (only sometimes) I buy magazines while trapped in airports. (Ignore, for a moment, the fact that I'm single-handedly killing biomes with my frequent flyer miles.) But I leave the mags at the laundromat when I'm done with them, for the reading pleasure of others. Think that counts as recycling? (Don't answer that.)


ABSTENTIONS
Picture it: Day Four of BLPOES. I was tired. I was sweaty. I hadn't eaten lunch. I had torn through no fewer than five vintage shops over a period of three hours. And then it appeared in front of me, shimmering like an outfit oasis: Ambiance, the world's most intentionally crowded boutique full of good and easy-to-wear trends. I told myself a blatant lie to justify crossing the threshold: that the experience would make a funny blog post. Foolhardy indeed. With laser precision, I zeroed in on a cobalt-and-ocre cotton cut-lace minidress and a seafoam silk Nanette Lepore boho blouse with lime green embroidery. Both perfectly fitting (and perfect-fitting) options, both on sale. To buy them would be to put an end to my woes with five minutes of work and $300. After deliberating in the dressing room for all of 45 seconds, I did the walk of shame to the register, shaking with every step. I put the items on hold. I walked out of the store. I made SOS calls. I actually cried. I drove to Cris and bought aforementioned (and entirely unnecessary) leather jacket: the equivalent of tossing Jenna Jameson into the volcano, hoping Pelé doesn't notice the substitution. And then, with time, wine and sage council, the crisis passed.

You know the words that really helped me through it? That this blog is bigger (at least for me and all ten of my readers) than one outfit on one night for fashion snobs who might not even show up. That the (admittedly cute) easy way out would only disappoint us in the end. So true. Thank you, Internet, (and thank you, Rene and Jenn), for reminding me of what was really at stake.

This blog is actually a J. Crew guerrilla marketing effort administered by Mickey Drexler himself.

Quicken Earth March: A Celebration of Mixed Metaphor

Self-righteousness, Cynicism, Avoidance and Guilt.

Desafortunatamente, these are the sharks you'll find circling the sustainability movement. As in:

"I drive a hybrid, Bitch."

"You're just hopping on yesterday's turnip truck."

"This shit is confusing! Why is it my problem?"

and

"[insert your pick of my confessional blog entries here]"

Actually, I've perpetrated all of these attitudes, as has just about everybody with an affinity for polar bear cubs. Maybe it's natural to react with negativity when we're all bobbing around in the unknown sans proper water safety apparel, holding our breath as the sea level rises.

But I'd like to recommend we try a new tack:

Let's all order a Claim Jumper-sized entrée of HOPE, with a starter salad of FUN and two generous sides of OPEN-MINDEDNESS and TRYING OUR BEST. (And an entire Red Delicious apple for garnish, as is the custom.)

Oh, and you guys? The ones muttering under your breath that we're all gonna drown anyway? (I know you're there: I can hear you chewing with your mouths open.) You guys should order the 10-pound slice of chocolate cake for dessert. There's no attitude a hearty baked good can't adjust.

OOPS! (Formerly known as SINS)

There was some free stuff. But I'll tell you this: it was an act of restraint compared with orders past. Usually I get seduced by cha-cha bikinis, age-inappropriate sundresses, boardshorts (operative word: short) and hoochie skirts too microscopic to ever see the 55-degree San Francisco light of day. By my previous standards, I kept it real.


NECESSITIES (Formerly known as ADMISSIBLE NECESSITIES)




CREATIVE CONSUMPTION (Formerly known as PREVIOUSLY OWNED FRIVOLITIES)

Dudes! I didn't even go to Cris! Is it possible that I am beginning to wean myself from the ways of the wallet?

Also, because I do not wish to make him a crutch, let's recall that HCB brought home that lovely food processor.


UP FOR DISCUSSION (Formerly known as TECHNICALITIES)



Brandi gave me a tee shirt, but I'm inclined to declare all items promoting independent singer/songwriters exempt from scrutiny. (Also, it's very attractive and looks good with my hair color.)

Gifts are always tough. Nobody wants to be the Green Grinch. So I got Grandma a basket of tulip bulbs for her birthday. (Which happens to be today. Happy Bday, you adorable April Fool!) Origins of the basket aside, I'm digging the plant option.


ABSTENTIONS

I'm still thinking about this baby.



And I *may* have perused yet another J. Crew catalog, thereby discovering the Shoe of the Month Club. But their footwear pinches my feet. So Mickey can suck it.

Before I Get Off My Cake Stand...

It's hot and sunny again today. Swathes of shockingly pale people, myself included, are pouring into parks all over town for a dose of Vitamin D.

S.A.D. is like, so last week.

It's a little off topic, but I've been thinking some more about food, and about how, all San Fran Smuggery aside, I derive so much pleasure from following the farm-to-table trail.

So I'm just going to take a second to gush about Eatwell Farm, the CSA we subscribe to in Dixon, CA.

Every two weeks, I get a box full of muddy/imperfect/delicious organic produce and pasture-raised eggs. Behold this week's cornucopia:



Farmer Nigel Walker gave my friend Jenn and me a farm tour last summer. This is a passionate, kind, intelligent man who wants the best for everybody: his customers, his employees, his sons, the earth. His seeds are happily acclimated,



his bees know exactly where to find Home Sweet Home,



and his chickens are masters of Transcendental Meditation.



Walking the fields was like plundering Whole Foods sample tables, Pastoral-style;

we ate the corn off the cob off the stalk,



selected our plums straight from the trees,



filled our cheeks with cherry tomatoes,



invented new exercise regimens for the chickens and piglets (choga and Piglates, respectively),



and got trailed by a suspicious hen.



I was ready to become Farmer Natalie right then and there.

But I know I don't have it in me. Nigel writes a weekly newsletter that accompanies the box, and he has a blog, too. This year, his subscribers have seen him weather a crippling Med Fly quarantine, the cruel murder of his lovely guard dog, Sadie,



and the infestation of his delicious broccoli by bastard aphids. It's a tough profession, full of sweat, mud, manure, bugs and disappointing P&L reports.

The more you read, the more Nigel and his team start to feel like family. You love them and root for them, and want to do whatever you can to help them succeed.

I wish I could say the same for every other business I patronize.



*You might have noticed a vast improvement in photo quality. Jenn took them.

You can't stay here, Mickey.

I love you, but things just aren't working out between us. I'm going to set you up with Helen. I've already told her all about you.

It's like Quicken Earth.

Hello February.
One down, 11 more to go. Seems like a monthly tally would be a smart thing to do. And if I buckle down and do it on the first of each month, then I won't be stuck at my desk all day on April 14th, 2009, cursing and fabricating eco-farces.

SINS
You've already heard about my attractive blue business expenditures. I also bought four magazines. They were work research, but still.

And...Oh Schitt! I bought a lingerie bag at Nordstrom on January 11th! I didn't even THINK about it when I did it. All month I've been wandering around all smug and stuff, only to discover that my subconscious will shop with or without me. Nature always finds a way.

ADMISSIBLE NECESSITIES


(PREVIOUSLY OWNED) FRIVOLITIES
Three fab bargain tees, three ill-fitting shotgun schmattas, one slinky silk cami and one Ren Faire blouse. Plus the vintage placemats and Almighty Muffin Tin.

TECHNICALITIES
I wonder: does an album purchased on iTunes count? Since there is no packaging, no shipping and nothing to store in my apartment, apart from megabytes? I say no. So Jesca Hoop gets to go into the Frivolities category for the final tally.

Also: how about financial instruments? I opened a new money market account in January. I also make automatic contributions to my IRA every month. I do receive printed materials. Hmmm. Still seems sufficiently intangible to stay out of the Sins column. And besides, where am I supposed to put all this money I'm saving by not buying stuff?

ABSTENTIONS


Obvi.



Also, these hot-ass 70's silhouette jeans. (The ones on her, not on him. But come to think of it, those man pants would look mighty fine on HCB. Everything looks mighty fine on HCB.) And while we're being brutally honest, let's admit that I have eyes for those platforms, too.



And the entire J. Crew catalog. Mickey Drexler, you rock my world. I cry myself to sleep at night pining for your posh prints and jewel-toned cashmere.