living vicariously: My 10th Reunion Hope Chest
The countdown begins...12 days until my high school 10th reunion! Preparing for the momentous event has been a two-part process, I've found: self-reflection (always a blast) and retail therapy (to soften the pangs of part one).
The self-reflection phase was fairly predictable: I'm still single (boo-hoo) and "challenged" when it comes to balancing my checkbook; it's quite possible that I was smarter in high school than I am now; "friendly" creases have since nestled around my eyes; and I have a dead tooth that I didn't have then. But hey, at least I have my health! (Not counting the tooth, of course.)
The subsequent shopping spree was slightly less typical. I wasn't in the market for a full-on makeover. What I craved was a few pick-me-up pieces to punctuate the stuff I already have--inspiring accessories to lift me out of my dressing rut and transport me to a place where I could pretend to be that girl. You know who I mean: the one who was born chic (as others are born brunette), the one who makes plain jeans and tees look glamorous just by putting them on.
It took me a month (and a good part of a paycheck) to find the contents of my 10th Reunion Hope Chest, but I did succeed! Click below to see my loot.
It all started with the purchase of a blood-red, patent leather "Char" clutch from Lauren Merkin. (I've always wanted a red clutch, but the fact that my high school colors are red and black made the acquisition "necessary".)
That strategic red-patent purchase got me an invitation to the Lauren Merkin sample sale, where I fell in love with a woven leather "Louise" in navy and a pebbled leather "Louise" in this cool dusty rose color (the upcoming event is a three-day affair, after all):
I don't know what came over me. Who buys three clutches in two months?! But, the truth is, the over-the-top absurdity is what made the exercise in indulgence so much fun and, dare I say, even empowering. For just this once, I gave myself permission to treat myself, my usual spending guilt be damned.
The next weekend, I discovered this vibrant coral summer shawl at J. Crew. As soon as I wrapped it around me, I felt different--somehow more alive and elegant. That was enough for me; I bought it on the spot.
Finally, I went on a wild goose chase to track down a pair of Blinde "Servicer" sunglasses, which I hadn't been able to stop thinking about ever since I spotted them in a magazine last December. I call them the magic-wand shades because they put their stamp of cool on any outfit, striking the perfect balance between retro and current, tomboy and glam. And, in the same way a paunchy, middle-aged man can feel like Mick Jagger in his red 911 convertible, I kind of feel like Kate Moss when I'm wearing these.
In carrying out my fashion fantasies, these treasures have put a very real kick in my step. Call it illusion or delusion (or just plain distraction), but I no longer care about my unbalanced checkbook, my lack of suitors, or even my dead tooth.
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