Tag Archives: jeggings

Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.

25 Jan

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a thing for headbands.  But, I didn’t wear them for their ability to save me from my worst-hair-days-ever.

Oh, no!

I wore them simply because I could pull them down over my eyes, and pretend to be Lieutenant Commander Geordi La Forge from Star Trek.

But since today was a good hair day, I decided to channel my other childhood obsession, Princess Leia.

Bet you were expecting the metal bikini since I’m at the lake, huh?  Maybe tomorrow.

{cream sweater tunic: F21} {denim jeggings: Kohl’s}  {maroon tunic: Gapbody} {green cowbody boots: antique store} {beaded leather belt: thrifted} {owl necklace: gift} 

See these pieces restyled here (click photo to see post):

   

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Breaking resolutions

7 Jan

Oh my, I apologize for the silence on the blog the past few days.  Who knew that I’d get struck with the flu from Hades?  At least my jeans fit like they did pre-holidays, right?!

Saturdays are my sacred yoga days.  By “sacred yoga days” I mean it’s the one day a week, hell or high water, I’m going to yoga no matter what.  It gets my weekend started off right, I get to rid myself of a bunch of crappy toxins, and who am I kidding?  I get to see and practice with one of my best girlfriends, Stanci.

But today is the exception.

My gran and I have a hot date to one of my favorite restaurants, followed by antiquing and raiding an entire neighborhood of their vintage clothing stock.  So basically, when I say “hell or high water, I’m going to yoga”, I mean “as long as there isn’t a breakfast feast, endless shopping, and a hot date with my grandma”.

Now excuse me while I go blow the $28 I won playing roulette and stuff myself on vegetarian eggs benedict.

{jeggings: Kohl’s} {salmon ruffled tank: Old Navy} {tweed blazer: F21}  {green Native American boots: antique shop} {rose gold watch: Michael Kors} {green pear earrings: F21} 

Skate night, date night

30 Dec

If you’re friends with me on Facebook, you’ve probably gotten a smidge annoyed with my hyperbolic ranting and raving about ice skating:

“Literally all I want for Christmas this year is to go ice skating.  Is that so much to ask?”

I’m not sure if my desire stems from my youth, spent meandering around Crown Center with my thrifted muffler and hand-me-down wool coat, or if I still have remnants of my former obsession and idolization of my favorite Ukrainian ice princess.  But for the last several winters, it’s been like pulling teeth to get anyone to brave the ice rink for a little festive fun.

That was, until last night.

A very kind (and naïve) gentleman offered to take me down to the rink of all rinks.  You see, in downtown Kansas City, one of the meccas of all things Christmas is Crown Center.  The mayor’s Christmas tree rises high into the sky, wooden Nutcracker’s line the block, and colorful fountains dance to the sound of Holiday tunes.  It’s everything you’d want in a kitschy little holiday outing.

We laced our weathered skates and I quickly stood up, and just as quickly fell back down, overwhelmed with the  burgeoning excitement of years of built up anticipation.  Painstakingly, we crept awkwardly towards the ice, taking short, choppy movements over the bumpy, over-populated rink.

The night wore on, and we created nicknames and life stories for our fellow ice dancers.

There was Twilight, a young man who came to the rink by himself, complete with a 26-inch waist, perfectly quaffed hair, and a meticulously chiseled face.  We agreed he came to the rink to pick up chicks, and would most definitely be posting on Missed Connections later that night.

And finally, there was Hair Gel.  Hair Gel brought his very own pro-hockey skates, and weaved and wound through the crowd, itching to bust out the hockey stick and awe his fellow patrons with his signature slap-shot.  He laughed even louder than I did at my date’s jokes, and I’m convinced has a fully stocked closet of Axe.

Despite my winter-long daydream of gliding effortlessly across the ice, completing swirly twists and turns, even throwing in a single salchow,  I stuck to the basics.  If I’m honest, I didn’t want to scare my date with my gold medal winning, God given gift of falling flat on my bum.

{black denim: H & M} {high-five t-shirt: F21} {taupe leather boots: vintage}  {Native American earrings: Kohl’s} {rose gold watch: Michael Kors} {rings: family heirlooms}

Ch-ch-ch-changes

26 Dec

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, and maybe even a few of you had a white Christmas!  My Christmas (well, every Christmas, really) was a smidge odd and special in its own way.

You see, it’s probably the last Christmas that my bro and I were going to spend under the same roof and  the final time he would come barreling in my room, opera singing, “IT’S CHRISTMAS MORRRRNING” at the tip-top of his lungs.  And it’s probably the last time I will have woken up in my childhood bedroom and waltzed half awake down the hall, to a pile of beautifully hand-wrapped gifts.  And finally, it’s the last Christmas before my bro gets all matrimonial and grown up, and I move on to my own humble abode.

Of course I’m still spending next Christmas (and hopefully every thereafter) with my family, but it will just be different and kinda adult.  I mean, Chris and I will still argue over petty crap, crack immature jokes, and watch the same Christmas classics on repeat.  Okay, okay, it’ll be adult-ish.

[I had to.  That watch has been in my dreams for months and months, and it became mine at 60% off. AGH!]

{jeggings: Target} {plaid button up: Old Navy} {golden cardigan: Target} {brown belt: thrifted}  {leopard wedges: Target} {Wooden bracelets: vintage, gift from gran}  {Michael Kors watch: MK }

See these pieces restyled here:

  

Eh, shortay!

23 Dec

Most days, I feel pretty tall.  Granted, I wear a stupid amount of platform wedges, which make me an average of 5’7″.  Usually though, I am almost always oblivious to the fact that I am a certified shorty.

It’s the few times when I’m around genuinely tall people, that I realize the sheer miniature-ness of my stature.  Like when I’m on a date with a 6’3″ man, or when my 10-year-old students are taller than me.  Or the one time that I decided to pose next to a ten-foot Christmas tree in my parents’ living room.

And especially the time I was in a cave in Germany and all my classmates had to duck beneath the stalactites and low clearings, while I breezed through like a well-experienced spelunker.

Yeah, it’s those times that I feel like Polly Pocket.

{jeggings: Target} {leopard top: thrifted} {black tank: F21} {royal blue kitten heels: thrifted}  {green and blue plaid scarf: F21}    

See these pieces restyled here:

     

Keep on creepin’ on

16 Nov

If I look suspicious in this photo, it’s absolutely for a reason.

In case you can’t tell, my photo site of choice is my backyard.  And you see, when I started this blog, my house had a regular, run of the mill fence.  You know, one of the usual 3 1/2 foot get-ups found in all of suburbia.  About a month ago, however, this measly fence was replaced with a much more macho,  6-foot privacy version.  Even though some of my favorite backdrops from the yard were removed to make way for the new installment (Sigh, I miss you, beautiful backdrop), I’ve much preferred my new found privacy.

That was, until today.

You see, I forget that a girl taking gratuitous photos of herself at 7:30 am in the freezing cold is a little ridiculous.  I mean, it’s just how I roll, paying little thought to what the normal person thinks.  But today, I had some spectators.

And they were watching, no, STARING, at me, as I awkwardly smirked, posed, and frantically hobbled over cobble stones, trying to look halfway decent in time for my self-timer.

I was half tempted to invite them over to join me for a group shot, you know, Awkward Family Photos style.  Or perhaps  even see if they wanted me to whip them up a batch of these over some coffee.  But then I remembered what I’d think about a girl who always takes photos of herself, looking exceedingly awkward and shifty.  I decided to save myself the disappointment of my “friends” shutting their window shades in my face and murmuring under their breath at me.

Good thing I’m my own best friend.

Details:: fish button up {also seen here, thrifted}; golden sweater {NY&C}; jeggings {Target}; golden wedges {Target}; golden metal choker {gift}; double wrap belt {F21}; rings {gifts}; wooden bracelets {vintage; gift from gran}