Good Intentions Rust

In an uncharacteristic turn of events, I, like many others, am obsessed with the Flickr Working Closet pool, and will very likely be contributing, because if there’s one thing that leaps out at me, it’s that people look SNAZZY when they go to work, and where are the Reefs? The sneakers? The horridly ill-fitting pants that I seem to sport every day?

Seriously, y’all, if nothing else, it’s made me realize that my own wardrobe is rife with Glamour Don’ts, and while it’s not the most important thing to me, it’s gotten so bad that I am actually embarrassed to put myself together, lest people notice and make it a THING, because they always make it a thing. Take today, for example: I was out of clean clothes, and was forced to throw on a pair of slightly dressy trousers with zippy little patent leather heels, and you’d think the universe had been suddenly set to melt down, the way my co-workers reacted in my morning meeting. My boss actually yelped, “HER SHOES OH MY GOD! LOOK AT HER SHOES.”

I take that as a sign that really, I need to step it up a bit, because if a pair of heels sends people’s heads spinning, like it’s some sort of wild special occasion that maybe involves an interview for another job (seriously, I think they were panicked) or at the very least some sort of cookie-and-balloon-laden occasion that also involves bacon, then maybe I’ve got some wardrobe issues I need to address.

Speaking of Glamour Don’ts, have you seen this? It’s just … well, it’s like Hot or Not, but with an added dose of cruel, cruel terror, and now I can add this to my list of things to be afraid of: one day discovering that those are my eyes behind those nefarious, nefarious bars, and my be-Reefed feet held up for the mockery of millions of people who know how to pull off a wedge heel, or at least pretend that they do.

Onward! It’s premier week, and I’m overwhelmed with television, as I was last year. It’s become a chore, rather than a relaxing activity, and instead of being excited about Heroes, I viewed it as time away from cleaning the cat litter box. Aaand, I think perhaps we’ve just illustrated the second problem that needs to be solved, like perhaps there’s a life I can pick up at Target this weekend. I think I said the exact thing last season, and ooh, update: Heroes! Loved. I don’t care how much Matthew Gilbert warned me not to get too attached, as there is danger ahead, in the form of far too many characters. I am a sheep. Love.

And with premier week comes the painful decision regarding Grey’s Anatomy: dump it? Give it another chance? We’ve been promised pseudo-redemption by Shonda Rhimes, but really, I don’t know if I can endure another season of Mer-Der drama, and the whole show just makes me feel stupid. And yet I find it oddly compelling, not unlike a ripe blackhead that begs to be squeezed. I know I shouldn’t, because it’ll leave a hole, but I can’t help it.

With that appetizing image, I’ll leave you with a product recommendation for your trouble: While Clinique products generally have a bad rap, their brush-on cream eyeliner is fantastic. It goes on smoothly, blends easily, and Black Honey is one of the best, most wearable browns I’ve ever used. Personally, I’m a fan of applying it with the MAC angled eyeliner brush.

I may not be able to dress for shit, but my eyes are lined beautifully.

Happy Tuesday!

*The Cake Sale. So, after months of coveting the album from afar, because I can’t get enough of Lisa Hannigan, I finally sucked it up and ordered the import last week — for $40 — and it arrived today. Imagine my excitement when I learned that it’s being released in the U.S. in two weeks for, I’m guessing, a lot less. But how pretty is this song? In two weeks, you, too, can own it for a lot less than I paid for it. Enjoy!

28 comments September 24th, 2007