Helmet Lang.

Today I broke down and finally bought a bike helmet. Long-fearing drawing comparison to Calvin's dad, I simply told myself that my fixed-gear cuz-it's-actually-broken mountain bike couldn't go fast enough to warrant wearing one.

Shirt: Gap, same as here. Shorts: Cut-off Levis. Shoes: thrifted. Jewelry: All thrifted. There's also a belt that you can't see but has a black, white and red Nordic woven pattern on it. Lurvely.

But a few weeks ago, my future pa-in-law got in a serious accident that would've been ten times so had he not been wearing a helmet. Lesson learned. Also, eventually, I'd like to be going faster. I got a road bike off Craigslist that has yet to be debuted, all because of my reluctance to helmetize.


I went to the bike shop today after much procrastination at the antique store next door browsing the rings. Like carbo-loading before a marathon, I took in as much camphor glass/baguette rhinestone/ cabachon delight as I could before I had to perjure my head with a frickin' helmet. But, it is as cool as could possibly be expected... it kinda looks like Speed Racer's. But I'm not taking any pictures of it quite yet.

I love this little part of the park across my street. The Umbrella Girl always looks so disconnected.

Speaking of photographs, I've lately been extra-endeavoring to improve upon mine. I really badly want to take the next step up in cameras and finally get a DSLR. I mentioned this to someone who has read this blog, and they said, "Yeah, but why spend the money? You're not really a photographer."

Well, right-- I don't earn a living taking photos. I don't see myself buying a light umbrella any time soon. And I definitely am not some kind of diamond-in-the-rough photo genius. But I certainly do take more photos per day than the average person (even that person), and I enjoy it! Getting better equipment is the next step to getting better at something I enjoy.


Not trying because you'll never be the best is just a way to rob yourself of joy. You don't have to be the best at something-- or even great at something to make pursuing it worthwhile. But you can always get better, and improving is something you can always feel good about. Unless you're getting better at robbing old ladies, or upper-decking your best friend's toilet.

Speaking of upper-decking, do you smell that? Yes! The sweet-stench of a winner is in our midst!

Will Entrant #11, aka "Damsels" please step up? You're the lucky winner of the Dr. Perricone Acai Berry Supplement drawing! Congratulations! Just email your mailing address to spandexpony@gmail.com and I'll get you all set up!

Thanks to all who entered-- your suggestions were fantastic!

Yours,

Elissa.

Clothes Made Man

If anyone's looking for an opportunity in fashion design, it's men's big and tall. I went with my sweets today to adjust his wardrobe, and, let's just say it was a rather painful experience for him (as he says it always is). Nearly every pair of pants is pleated and tapered, the dressing rooms are carelessly designed (no hooks, no shelves); the selection, sorely lacking; and the sales people, indignant. One salesman actually told us that if my sweets would wear his pants at his waist like he's "supposed to", then pleats would actually flatter. I expected him to follow this statement with "...NOT!", but he didn't and we left the store.

Blazer: thrifted. Tank: Target. Jeans: Gap. Shoes: Vintage, thrifted.

Speaking of things not fitting right, let's talk about jeans. Hardly wear 'em. Typically I favor the skinnies as I feel they're lengthening to my just-shy-of-petite frame, but occasionally I bust out a wider-cut-- the man finds 'em flattering. And, this pair happens to be one of the very few I've encountered in life that are neither too low, too incredibly long or too waist-pinchy, some of the reasons why I typically avoid pants and go for the skirts.

Necklaces: gift from Granny.

These are two of my favorite necklaces. When my granny left her home for an assisted living facility, she sent me a package full of jewelry. The keys are in regular rotation, and the camel is one of my all-time favorites. I accidentally left it on while swimming at Coney Island once and when I sat back down on the beach, discovered that the salty ocean water had completely scrubbed my camel clean. As you can see, it's since regained its patina.

Bag: thrifted.

This is one of my favorite bags, thrifted for me by Sweets. As you can see, the man has extraordinary taste. Speaking of him (in a roundabout kind of way...)

They came!!!


The shoes I was dying to wear for my lil wedding arrived today! Hooray!!! Previously sold out all over the internets, I decided to follow every single shoe-seller on Twitter for news of restocking. Solestruck made the announcement first and I pounced on it like a tweaked out teen on a fresh can of butane. Raw.

And while we're on the topic of things that are fresh, raw, and possibly addictive, I've started a brand new blog called "Tulle Box". It's wedding-themed, filled with inspiration and great, sparkly finds. It's just a wee babeh now, but I'll be dressing it up with its own little header and sidebar goodies in the coming days.

With bells on,

Elissa.

P.S.!

Have you entered the contest??? There's one more day left to enter and win a 30-day supply of Dr. Perricone's Acai Berry supplement. After a couple of weeks of drinking it daily-- and in concert with near-complete removal of all white carbs from my diet, I have to say that I definitely feel better and more in control. Loading up on protein definitely keeps the hunger swings at bay. Can't say that I've lost weight necessarily, but I notice that my skin has a bit more clarity, probably because I'm eating a lot more fish and walnuts. Om nom.

Getting to know Janus quite well...

This year feels like I'm walking on vaseline. Making strides towards things, but slipping to the left, slipping to the right, slipping back to where I was. The number of things that have or are yet to begin and end this year are sheerly vast.


What's next, what's next? As huge companies get smaller and downsize diversity in terms of services offered and goods manufactured and sold, I become convinced that we're entering a new era, one of the entrepreneur. I see more small businesses popping up to fill the gaps corporations will leave behind.

Earrings: Urban Outfitters.

Necklace: KidViskous on Etsy.

Blazer: Thrifted. Dress: Forever 21. Shoes: Nine West.

My goal of becoming a fashion buyer has stalled this year, and being a Capricorn, I'm never one to rest. I keep climbing that vaseline-covered mountain. But I wonder if entrepreneurship is the way to move forward now? There's a million-and-one things I could do and do well, but really one thing I've really got my heart set on.

On the off-chance that an intrepid employer is perusing my blog, I have a resume full of things like management, buying, sales, and creative endeavors. I'm fluent in three languages and am familiar with NedGraphics, Photoshop, Final Cut Express and more.

On the more-than-likely chance that you are a friendly, knowledgeable and fabulous reader, I turn to you: what chances have you taken to get the job that you want? What avenue, traditional or no have you taken to get to where you want to be?

I'm excited to hear what you have to say!

Yours,

Elissa.

Whatever happened to Saturday night?

Today, my sweets and I looked at eachother and said, "Well, what'll it be? I work out, you work out, we cook something and then we...ahh... zzzz....." So, rather abruptly, we decided to drop everything and run to the nearest amusement park. And at 70 degrees and breezy, it couldn't have been a better day.

Feelin' the groove with my backup skeleton choir. Jacket: thrifted. Dress: Urban Outfitters. Tank: Express. Boots: Urban Outfitters.

After, we checked out my friends' band, the Wet Darlings and had an all-around fun-ass time, listening to good music, drinking drinks (I endorse the vodka & soda with a lemon), dancing dances (I've been studying up on my Ciara moves). It's been awhile but I present to you one of my favorite songs about nights out.



Learning dances, brand new dances,


Elissa.

Need! Want!

Short post here, but really, need I say more?

Leopard Platform Creepers by Jeffrey Campbell at Nasty Gal.

I'd love to wear these with cropped ankle trousers and an off-the-shoulder tee and a bolero jacket. Meowch! Or, why not bad-ass-ify your typical pencil skirt/oxford shirt uniform?

Til tomorrow,

Elissa.

PS-- have you entered the contest yet?

Assholery versus Karma.

Things are really taking off, wedding-wise. In about two months, you won't hear hide or hair about weddings anymore, I promise! I'm coming to realize that some things really only matter if you care about them. I hemmed and hawed over transportation, hoping to arrive at the ceremony in a blue, 1956 Chevy Bel-Air, my favorite classic car (besides an El Camino, my fantasy cholita ride). Realizing that this required more string pulling than I cared to endure, I've decided that the laissez-faire-itude of just dialing up a cab is more in tune with my desire, at this point, for things to be as uncomplicated as possible.

This weekend, my maid of honor and I went shopping for a dress for her. I have been chomping the bit on this one, as Jenn is a girl of lovely proportions that could make a designer dress cower in the corner and weep, "I'm not worthy!"

Ooh la la!

I thought about taking advantage of the massive shoe clearance this particular store was having, but one glance over and I said Hell to the No.

I felt a twinge of regret as this girl spotted me taking a photo of her mom (?) trying on shoes, but the scene really was too extraordinary to leave alone. And it wasn't just them! Shoes are like drugs, people! And I know their siren call well...

Today I chased after the big questions that come when you're trying to sell something. Whether your attitude is good (and thereby influencing your destiny for the better), whether you could be doing something more, something less, or something altogether different.

Blouse: The Gap. Skirt: New York and Company. Shoes: Vintage, thrifted.

I decided to get a pedicure and take some advice in the form of reading the first five chapters of What Would Machiavelli Do?: The Ends Justify the Meanness, a book that toes the line between farcical and fascist. Can you really get what you want only by being a total asshole?

I love the detailing on this shirt. I obtained it by not being an asshole, strangely.

Are we middling weenies who vote "yes" to a life of dour mediocrity in the very act of accordance, compromise or consideration?

I say no. I know very, very well that your attitude towards others is the shape of your world. And since I believe that behaving nicely makes things go better, the little puzzle pieces of my reality have aligned themselves... in accord.

I'm in total love with these shoes. Found these clear, 1950's babies at a second-hand store in Chicago. The cat is also second-hand, and I'm in total love with her too.

I always liked to say that you attract more flies with honey than vinegar, but then that leaves me wondering, why the hell am I trying to attract flies? What's your mantra?

Back to the Grindstone,

Elissa.