jen.scharpen's blog

Dirty Laundry: How do you come clean?

2009-07-27T17:17:24-05:00

I'm back from Chicago, and I've got a big suitcase full of dirty clothes and a day off work. Awwww, yeah, it's Laundry Day! I made a decision to just embrace and love doing the wash since I spend so much time doing it. The feel of the scoop as I measure the detergent; the sound of the water filling up the washing machine; the thumping of the dryer; folding warm clothes: it's strangely soothing and meditative.

One of the best and most helpful things I've found online is this printable chart that translates all those cryptic washing instruction labels you find on the tag in your fancy pants. Suddenly I was able to decipher what the little crowns, boxes with circles, and teakettles actually were trying to tell me. I printed out a copy and hung it up on the inside of my laundry cabinet. Awesome.

Another great help was Susan's post from last year, Laundry 101: Handwashing, dry cleaning, and what goes in the washer. Be sure to read the comments for reader tips, too.

I've got a lot of handwash-only clothes, but I don't have much time to take care of them like their tags ask me to (hand in the wavy water; a circle inside a box with a big X through it). My alternative, now that the mesh lingerie laundry bag I used to have was turned into pants for a big stuffed bear by my daughters, is to put the item in a pillowcase and tie a knot in the top. I throw the pillowcase in with the rest of the wash, and so far I've had no tragic outcomes. If something is too wet when I take it out of the pillowcase, I lay it flat on a towel, roll the towel up, and then walk on it to get the water out without twisting or wringing, both of which are not in keeping with the care instructions on the tag.

The top of the washer and dryer are great places to lay things flat to dry, as is the kitchen table if you put a couple of beach towels down first. You can also install your own hotel-style retractable clothesline if you are short on space to hang up your drip drys.

What are your laundry tips? Would love to hear from you on everything from stain removal (how on earth do you get mudstains out?) to green solutions, to time savers.

underarmy: YAY for minty pits!

2009-07-17T19:48:07-05:00

I can't remember exactly when I first heard Jenny talking about her minty pits, but I do recall it getting my attention. We were on the phone, and she was online, checking email maybe, when I heard her suck in all her breath and exclaim, "OMG, they're selling my deodorant again! Minty pits!"

She then told me about the deodorant that Bliss makes that is minty. And how when you put it on, it tingles and feels cool. She said it lasts all day, never lets her down, and is totally worth the nearly $20 price tag. "Is it clear, too?" I asked, because I bought some hippy stuff at Whole Foods that smelled okay enough, but I only used it once because it left white gunk all over the inside of my shirt. (Say it with me now: Ewwwwwwwwwww!")

She promised me that it was clear, that it works, and that I'd improve my life and overall happiness if I got myself some before summer came. I put it off, because it's like three times more than I wanted to spend (four kids, single mom, a touch on the thrifty side), but when my last deodorant was totally used up, I decided to give underarmy a try. It was worth at least an extra three dollars for the name alone, right?

I went to the mall after work one night, because if you are a cosmetic Big Deal your clientele must work a little bit to get you in addition to paying extra. Things are just that way sometimes. I got to the mall and parked on the wrong side, the especially if you are wearing cute but not practical shoes wrong side, and started walking. After passing every single store doing business in Stanford Shopping Center, I got to the place I needed to be. I walked in and found the cosmetics counters and started looking for the bliss stuff. Some lovely women helped me find the right place, but the only bottle of underarmy in the store was a sampler. So, I walked back to my car and drove around the way to another department store. They were also out.

Hmmmmm, I thought, Jenny is on to something.

The next day I got online and ordered myself some underarmy. (And, another product that I might fess up to later. Maybe.) It showed up at my house on a hot, smoggy day. I took the package to my bedroom and opened the box. I gave it a little test roll on (in? over?) my armpit and started to laugh. It IS minty. Whoo. But in a good way. It's like an altoid for your armpit.

Ok. So far so good. But I had a test in mind for this stuff. One that no underarm treatment had ever passed. Because, honestly, if I am going to pay $20 bux for deodorant, it has to be ten times better than the stuff that is a quarter of the price. Look -- I know it's unfair of me, but underarmy is expensive and hard to get, so I needed a to present it with a big challenge in order to get the proper endorphin flow from my cosmetic retail therapy. You know? (You totally do.)

I have this top I love to pieces. It's a three quarter sleeved hoodie, made of the thinnest cotton. I have to wear a tank top under it, because it's that delicate (and see-thru). It's got orange embroidered flowers along the neckline. I HAND WASH it, and I don't hand wash stuff. I'm not sure why, but for some reason, whenever I wear it, even in the wintertime, it gets . . . well, it gets grody-smelling under the arms. Bad. The other day, I tested the underarmy with that top. It seemed fine all day, and sure enough, when I got home and took it off, I could not smell a thing.

I called Jenny right away. "Hello?" she said. "Jenny!" I said, "OMG, minty pits!"

What are your summertime secret weapons?

Cheapskate is the new Black: How I'm cutting back on my fashion and beauty spending

2009-06-09T09:32:00-05:00

I was getting dressed for work this morning when I saw that my sandals were showing off my gnarly toes. I had a pedicure (minus the manicure) in late spring when I began wearing sandals again, but I can't afford to go back often. My solution? Put on my sandals, size up the direness of the situation, and then touch-up where needed. I figure that my feet are rarely still anyhow, so the polish doesn't need to be perfect, just passing. I may splurge for a special occasion (like that outdoor wedding I'm going to next weekend) but, this year the pedicures will be home-administered. Maybe you're more talented than I am, and can always DIY your toes, but it really helped me to have the initial job done by a pro. If you've got a friend or loved one who's game, you can always do each other's toes while you catch up or watch a movie (free, on the internet, natch).

As I filled in the polish chips this morning, I started thinking about other ways I've cut back on my bodily care and upkeep expenses. Off the top of my head I could think of several changes I've made:

Last year's bikini wax has become this year's razor. And I've got a pair of $12.50 board shorts for back up.
I added a week to the time between appoinments for eyebrow waxing, as this will be cut from my budget approximately never. (We all have our issues.)
I found a face moisturizer with a higher SPF, so I don't need to get a separate sunblock for my face. I also buy moisturizer at the grocery store lately, and look for discounts.
I gave away a couple of bags of dry clean only clothes that I didn't want to have to pay to wear again, and I tried laundering the rest myself. The results were great, but I only experimented with items that I figured the manufacturer was being overly cautious in labeling "dry clean only." Also, in my laundry room "hand wash" equals "wash in a pillowcase with a knot tied in the top."
To stretch my wardrobe, I spent a couple of hours adjusting waistlines and mending some sweaters and skirts that had been in my fix pile so long that no one I currently spend time with would recognize them.
I'm hoping to attend another clothing swap party this summer, like the one that Anna hosted recently. I went to one a few years ago and can attest that they are super fun. In addition to clothes, you can bring shoes, accessories, jewelry, handbags, and sunglasses to trade. New To Me is still new, you know?
In the hair department, I decided to use up all the products I have before buying anything new. I discovered that a couple of products I gave up on after one or two uses are actually pretty great (dry wax, I'm looking at you), and I shouldn't have to buy anything new until the fall, when the economy has made a full recovery. (I'm thinking positive. It certainly can't hurt any.)
I buy really cheap shampoo that smells good (from Trader Joe's) and, wow -- I've never admitted this to anyone -- I'm SO cheap that I water it down. Same with liquid hand soap. I figure if it still bubbles, it's still doing its job.
I get my hair cut by a licensed professional who I've been going to since we were both 18 (that's ::cough cough:: 20 years now ::cough cough::) but I've added more time between visits there, too, and may attempt to do my own color, under her guidance. We shall see.
On the fitness front I finally, reluctantly, let go of my yoga studio membership and bought a couple of second-hand DVDs so I can have a structured practice at home. This was a really tough change for me, but probably accounts for my biggest monthly savings.

It's astonishing how quickly all those cut corners add up to real money every month. I'd still like to cut back further, though, so if you've got some tried and true cheapskate methods for looking good, feeling good, or smelling good, I'd love to hear them!

Buy Handmade - Jewelry That Makes the Budget Cut

2009-05-13T16:06:53-05:00

I don't recall exactly how I stumbled across Etsy.com about three years ago, but I do remember clicking from one lovely handmade item to the next, amazed at the choices and the prices. I felt a little guilty about my first purchase, two necklaces and a hairpin from foundling, because they cost me less than a tank of gas. Same is true of the earrings that I wear every single day: a pair of handmade silver hoops that cost a whopping $12. I'm a wannabe crafter,and the one time I made items to sell (button magnets), I think I figured that with materials and labor, I should charge, oh, about twenty bux a magnet. And that's not even with the surcharge for the hot glue gun damage I did to my fingers. Whoops.

Now that most of us are cutting back, waaaaaay back, even, on our spending, I'm more grateful than ever for the ability that the internet gives me to spend my dollars wisely and in ways that directly support independent artists and crafters. Not to mention the fact that the things I buy are unique and interesting. Even if we aren't buying much for ourselves at the moment, we've got people we love having milestones and birthdays all the time: it's wonderful to be able to find unique and affordable gifts to share, and buying directly from the artist is all the better. I even love getting the packages in the mail. They're always beautifully wrapped, often with a handwritten thank you note and a little something extra.

(one of my favorite necklaces from House That Crow Built)

Here are some of my favorite jewelry makers. I'd love to hear about sellers you adore, and places beyond Etsy where you shop.

House That Crow Built
foundling
Katherine Riechart
Deb's Random Art
Littleputbooks (found via Schmutzie and necklace being worn right at this very moment)
Superhero Jewelry (wearing one of Andrea's creations in my profile photo above)

Looking prettier has never been easier (or cheaper)

2009-05-01T14:27:32-05:00

About nine years ago, I was in the hospital because I couldn't stop vomiting for days on end and I ended up too dehydrated to see straight. Even after I was admitted, the hurling wouldn't let up. They found my last unshriveled vein and hooked me up to a glucose drip and anti-nausea medicine that made me very, very sleepy. Or, maybe I was tired from the lack of food and coffee.

After I'd been there a few days with not much improvement, a good friend came to visit. I was, I thought, a mess: I hadn't showered that day, I had righteous bed head, and I felt like the petrified cheese that ends up stuck to the plate when you make nachos in the microwave. My friend walked in, her eyes got wide, "Wow!" She said, "You look so, pretty!"

Huh. I figured I was looking good from all the extra sleep, and decided that I'd spend more time resting from then on out. Instead, over the next few years I had two more children to add to the two I already had, and went back to the life of one of those women who's constantly being asked, "Were you up all night? You look really, and I mean really, tired."

Fast forward to now. I'm 38. I'm starting to understand why people have "work done," even though I don't think I'll ever go that route. When I was seventeen, I used to watch those Oil of Olay commercials where the woman said she was going to, "fight aging every step of the way," and think (with my unwrinkled brow and my uncrinkled eyes), "That's absurd! I'm not going to fight getting older. Sheesh. As if." I wish I could say I've held on to that attitude. Instead I have to say that, yeah, I've clicked on the ad that promises to tell you how Jennifer Anniston (born the same year as I was) keeps her face looking so youthful. It was some system, the ad says, "invented by a mom." I was half expecting to find a standard soul-selling contract provided by the devil himself, but instead they wanted to sign you up to get a bunch of pills and creams delivered to your house. "I'm a mom," I thought, "maybe I can come up with something on my own." Then I remembered something: sleep!

My kids are all older now, I don't have to get up to feed them or clean them up. But after so many years of not really sleeping much, I think I got used to it and filled in the kid-free night hours with other things. So, I decided that instead of staying up late reading and making lists of stuff I need to do the next day, I should get more rest to see if that helped. I started conciously going to bed earlier than usual. On the third day, Scouts Honor, my boyfriend said to me, "Wow, baby. You look really rested today." And I said, "Thanks, if by rested you mean pretty." And he said, "That is exactly what I meant, of course."

I decided that I wanted to get a medical opinion about this whole sleep=pretty theory of mine, so I emailed my friend, Jeremy Smith. Like me, Jeremy has four kids, but unlike me, Jeremy also has an M.D. and therefore gets to spend his time writing things about people on his clipboard right in front of them, rather than later and secretly on a blog.

I told him my hospital story, and and asked him why sleep makes people look better than usual. I also asked if maybe it had something to do with that I.V., with being superhydrated. Here's what he had to say (after I edited for my own purposes):

Hmmmm... this might be a challenge.

Does more sleep= more beauty? Sleeping Beauty's
first-ever kiss was while unconscious, so it would seem to follow. I
think the hydration part may be easier to explain: when the soft
tissues of your skin are depleted of water, wrinkles will be more
evident. Imagine inflating or deflating a wrinkled bag (not to say
someone's face looks like a bag, but... well, sometimes it does.... but
I digress)-- inflating (with air or water) will smooth out wrinkles, so
the "haggard" appearance of a person who is dehydrated is in some way
reflecting the more prominent wrinkles. This is the same reason why
obese persons can look younger than their stated age.

The sleep part I am less sure about. Certainly people can get
pigmentation changes just underneath the eyes when they are
sleep-deprived (don't have a scientific explanation for this), which
obviously improve with sleep. I am not aware of any scientific studies
or data about sleep changing physical appearances aside from that.

Hope some of that is helpful. Back to the office to stave off the pandemic!!

Jeremy

Okay, then. So based on the advice of my friend the doctor, sleep might not hurt, but what I really need to do if I want to look prettier is get my hands on a few bags of glucose, a needle and some I.V. tubing. Or, you know, I could drink more water.

Easy curls, no heat or hair skills required

2009-04-02T14:58:28-05:00

I need to confess something: even though I write here at Beauty Hacks, I'm not so accomplished in what I call the "Girly Arts." I cannot wield a curling iron or use hairspray. Lip liner, French braids, manicures -- they all sort of scare me.

The other night as I was giving my daughters a bath, they asked if I'd wash their hair and then roll and tie it up in rags so they'd have curls the next day. We'd never done that before, but the mom in the book I'm reading to them did it for her daughters, and my girls were fascinated, especially after I told them my mom had done that for me lots of times when I was little. And not so little, too. So I washed their hair, put in a bunch of conditioner, and started combing.

The idea behind the rag curls is that you section the hair while it's damp (not soaking-wet) and roll it up in strips of cloth, then tie the cloth ends in a knot to hold the hair in place. The hair dries overnight, and when you untie and unwind the cloth in the morning, you have curls. Super curls.

I'd never actually done this myself, but I went for it anyway, sacrificing an ugly old peach pillowcase to make our rag strips. I cut them about six or seven inches long, and a couple of inches wide. Next time I think I'll make them wider so that I can fold the strip lengthwise over the end of the section of hair. With the strips as narrow as they were, I had a hard time getting the curl started -- almost as hard a time as my six and seven year old daughters had sitting still while I worked. Once we were done, they looked really sweet, like they had rosebuds all over their heads.

They were able to sleep just fine (I was worried about that) and it was way easier than usual to get them up for school the next day. I untied and unrolled the first strip, crossing my fingers that I'd done it close enough to right for them to be happy with the results. I was honestly amazed by how tight the curls came out. My six year old was alarmed that her hair was now short, so I pulled down the curl to show her that I hadn't cut her hair.

We were all happy with the results, especially me, because I've been dreading the time that my girls will want more than pigtails and simple braids. Now that I've got curls in my back pocket, I might try pedicures again. Maybe.

Crest Whitestrips Advanced Seal: A product review!

2009-03-05T18:10:54-06:00

This is a compensated review from BlogHer and Crest.

Let me tell you, nothing will send a girl to the drugstore for tooth bleach faster than seeing a photo of her smiling self and her smiling gorgeous friend and noting that the friend has WHITE teeth and the girl, well, her teeth are icky and yellow.

Whoops. It happens, though, to those of us who love coffee, Earl Grey tea, and red wine. When I first saw that photo, in the summer of 2007, I went straight to the drugstore and bought the tooth bleach with the most superlatives on the label. Then I went home and put the bleach gunk in the little plastic trays and kept them in my mouth for a long, gaggy while. The product worked, but since I have a hair trigger gag reflex, it was hard for me to handle. I've bleached my teeth a few times since then, but, you know, it's not such a pleasant experience.

A few weeks ago, I was contacted by a PR agency wanting to know if I'd like to try the new Crest Whitestrips, for free, in exchange for a blog post review. Duh. Do I? YEAH I DO! (I wonder if they saw that photo on Flickr?)

The box of Whitestrips came in the mail a few days later, and I was so sick with the flu that I couldn't bear to think about testing them out. When I was finally feeling better, I decided to get to work. Okay, first thing I noticed was that it takes two weeks of daily use to go through the box. My inner preteen kinda did a little stomp and eyeroll, because two weeks is like, forever, in tooth bleaching time. But, you can use it twice a day and blast through in a week if you want to, so that's fair enough.

The strips are packaged in individual little packets, good for traveling and folks on the go like me. (Ha, I wish!) When you open the packet, there are two strips on a little piece of plastic. You peel the strip off, and it's very sticky, that side that was up against the backing, and stick them in place on your teeth, careful to get as close to your gumline as possible without sticking them on your gums. It's not as hard as it sounds. Next, you have to press the strip onto your teeth, so the gluey part is hitting the tooth part and the magic can happen. These strips are much better than the trays, in my opinion, because they don't set off my gag reflex or make me look like a football player. Plus, you can totally drink water with them in. When the time is up (30 minutes) you peel the strip off and you're done. I usually brush my teeth with just water after I peel the strip off because I don't want to have gluey teeth and all. But, like it says on the box, you can absolutely use them while you commute to work, even if you have to be on a conference call, because they don't interfere with talking. They don't even make you drool, which is another bonus.

I'm not quite through the box (I opted for the two week plan over the double up for seven days plan) but so far, so much brighter! I tend to think with products like this, one is pretty much like another, ingredient wise (which, I may be way wrong, I'm just speculating), but where a company can do it right is in the method. I'm calling the Crest Whitestrips Advanced Seal a winner, and it's a product I'll buy myownself next time I need to brighten up a little bit.

I hate my hair! What to do when you're not happy with your do.

2009-02-10T19:47:29-06:00

I went to the salon last Friday thinking I'd have my shoulder length hair cut into a bob. A really short bob; Amalie style. But, with no bangs. Probably. And my hairstylist (my friend Michele who has been cutting my hair since we were both about seventeen) tossed me a Short Hair Styles book while she finished up with the client before me. "See if there's something you like in there," she said, "I'll be done in a couple minutes." Partway through the book I found The Cut. It was so stinkin cute; much shorter than I have ever worn my hair, but, you know, SO many women I know have really great short hair (Hi Susan and Karen and Eden), and so I said What the heck, threw all caution and inhibitions to the wind, and went for it.

Partway through, but too late to go back, I had second thoughts. "You're freaking out, aren't you?" Michele asked me. "Uh, yeah, I totally am," I said.

When I left, I actually liked it. A lot! Now, though, I am having a big bad case of cutter's remorse.

The cut is cute, but I'm not crazy about how it looks on me. More importantly, I have no earthly idea how to style it. The fanciest I've done for a long time is pigtails. Michele told me to put some volumizing stuff on my hair when it's still wet, blow it dry (maybe upside down a little) and then finish it off with more stuff to get it to go where I want it to. She may have used different terms.

The first day I did this, it was kind of a disaster. I took to heart the upside down part, and ended up looking like Yu gi oh. Sigh. My hair stuck straight out from my head, especially around my ears, which was just awesome. So, the Redken traction stuff totally works. Okay, then! I didn't have time to redo the do, so I just put a bunch of the other stuff - Davines Mat Pliable Stucco, for Wizards (hey, I only use and do not name the stuff) - on my hands, rubbed it around and sort of patted and fondled my head. Then I used my fingers to try and guide my hair back toward earth. I'm not sure, but I think part of the secret may be to stand sideways to the mirror and move quickly, because if you act like you know what you are doing, sometimes things work out!

The second day was a little better: I started out with my head upside down, but only focused on drying the roots near the top and in back. Then I flipped rightside up, grabbed the counter because, whoooo, was I lightheaded! and blowdried the part around my ears down in a more reasonable looking manner, using my fingers instead of a brush. Next I did the finishing stucco stuff, and it wasn't terrible when I finally gave up, but I still couldn't really look in the mirror for too long of a time.

Cute bobby pins are helping me feel better, and I was stoked to find a great selection of them on Etsy. They come in vintage, steampunk, creepy, nature-inspired, glass, and fun, and that's only a handful of what's available. You can even buy a PDF on how to make your own recycled poppy hair pins. (I have an orange one from her shop that I love.)

I wrote to Susan, begging for tips and tricks, and she echoed my stylist's recommendations, and also suggested that I not wash it every day, letting it get a little crazy between shampoo days. I haven't tried that yet, but I do have a couple of work from home days toward the end of the week.

So, internets, besides asking friends for advice, using a metric ton of product, getting great earrings and fabulous bobby pins, what's your remedy for a too-short hair cut? (Magical hair-growing spells totally welcome, btw!)

Dressing your age (or not)

2009-01-14T17:50:06-06:00

I recently sent my boyfriend a link to some shoes I desperately want, with a note that said "I MUST have these shoes!" At first he said something like, "Uh, because you are five years old?" But then he laughed and said, "Actually, I can totally see you wearing those." I'm closer to 40 than I am to any other of the vaguely nearby milestone ages, but most days you maybe wouldn't guess that if you just looked at my clothes.

You might also not guess that I have some actual rules as to what I will, and will absolutely not, wear now that I'm somewhere over thirty five (which I know is not old, but you have to admit that it's grown-up territory).

For the most part, I think the notion that women of a certain age should dress a certain way is bunk. I mean, honestly, we should wear the things that make us feel comfortable and fabulous and happy. (Except for Formal Shorts, which are just wrong on anyone, right?) On the other hand, maybe the more realistic hand, we aren't doing ourselves any favors if we are hoping to be taken seriously by someone who just can't focus on our brilliance because of our eyebrow-raising outfit. That said, I once had a Very Important Meeting to go to and I decided to dress like I thought an adult should: slacks, pumps, buttoned-up cardigan, and conservative jewelry. I wasn't dressed like myself, though, and ended up feeling (and acting) uncomfortable. Looking back, I can see that I'd have been more relaxed if I'd at least had on some fun jewelry, and I'd definitely have been better representing myself, which would have made for a much better meeting. Oh, well.

photo by Jen Downer

Every once in awhile, I will walk out my front door in a funky skirt (maybe this one), stripey tights, chunky shoes, and pigtails. It's really not so different from what my girls wore to preschool, back before they decided that clothes like that were for babies and they needed High School Musical t-shirts and jeans with sparkly stuff on the butt. And, there's my first rule: I'll dress like a toddler (sorta) but not like a preteen. I believe grownups ought to stay away from trends that have taken over the preteen, and I'm thinking teen here as well probably, closets at large. In other words, I will happily steal from the children's classics: mary janes, funky tights, plaid skirts, stripey socks, swingy skirts, cardigans with hoods, mittens, an old skool lunch box for a purse, winter hats with ear flaps, bloomers, and maybe a well-done pair of overalls, but you won't find me dressed in anything that my daughters wear, unless it's the stuff I have picked out for them and forced them to wear. (I only force them if it's really, really cute.)

The other rule is balance. If I'm going to wear my red, fitted miniskirt with vintage embroidered gas station name tags (oh, yeah: Gus, Robert, Peter, Ned. . . ) then I have to have plain everything else to go with it. Usually I go with a black top, black tights and black shoes. Otherwise? Too much with the wacky and it all looks wrong. Sometimes I just want a tiny bit of something to show that I've got a sense of humor hiding in my closet. Last weekend we went to the symphony in San Francisco and I wore a vintage black dress with lace trim, my favorite vintage shoes, and black and white striped tights just to remind myself that I used to be sorta cool. I guess it's the Vanilla, Vanilla, Vanilla, Rainbow Sorbet 4-Scoop Cone approach to dressing.

The only other thing that I'd consider a rule is to not pass something up because I think I'm too old for it. If it speaks to me, I'll wear it (so long as it doesn't force you to view my naked knees. I'm super considerate that way).

Okay, what are your rules for dressing once you've passed a certain age? Do you have any? Do you think everyone should just throw them out the window and run around in midriff bearing tops and giant sunglasses? Spill!

How to (properly) love your vintage clothing finds

2008-12-10T13:55:41-06:00

I once fell in love in the vintage section in the back of American Rag in San Francisco. The dress that called to me was sweet and simple; 1950's, red velvet, short sleeves, slightly full skirt. Even though it was red - a perfect red, in fact - most shoppers might have passed it by because it wasn't looking for attention with anything fancy or showoffish.

And that is exactly what hooked me, propelling me to the cash register after a quick visit to the dressing room to be sure it fit right.

Not long after I bought the dress, I had to stand up on a stage and read in front of a group of people. To make it more bearable, I decided to wear my new dress. I still had such a crush on it; it helped me forget about how nervous I was. I wore it with a pair of black and white striped tights, tall black boots, and a red Superhero necklace, and decided to repeat that look for our upcoming family photo session that was booked with my good friend Jen for Mother's Day morning.

But, on the way home from the reading, a horrible, terrible thing happened. I was driving, all alone, and I needed to reach into the backseat for my purse because I was having a moment and really needed some Dr. Pepper lip gloss. So, I reached back with my right arm, and stretched my hand out to hook a finger under my purse strap. I heard a funny noise, but it didn't really register at the time. I finally pulled into my driveway, got out of the van, and went to walk in the house, when I felt a draft on my ribs, right under my arm. I looked down at the big gaping hole in my dress and nearly passed out. I'm not kidding.

The rip was so distressing because it was not on the seam, but was just a jagged tear in the fabric. I went inside and carefully took the dress off and then stood there in my slip trying to google my own brain for articles on reweaving and fabric repair. I came up with nothing, so I called my mother. She suggested that I take the dress to the fabric store and seek advice from the employees there. The women I spoke to were kind, but not helpful. (Like my 7 year old daughter, I define "unhelpful" as "not telling me what I want to hear." heh) They suggested that the entire panel (the tear was in a panel that made up the bodice) would need to be replaced, but pointed out that I'd never be able to match the old fabric, which they also told me was NOT velvet, but velveteen.

Okay, then.

I knew I didn't want to replace the panel, and the fabric was too delicate to do any kind of sewing repair. So, in keeping with the simple nature of the dress, I went for a simple repair: a red iron-on patch to go on the inside of the dress. Amazingly, it came out alright in the end, though if I want to wear the dress and not have the rip show, I'll have to stick to dimly lit parties. Probably dimly lit parties where lots of booze is being served. But, really, it's okay. I still love my dress, and I was able to wear it for our photos and the tear didn't show.

Here's a close up shot of the repaired damage (I see I need to clip some loose threads):

After all this heartache, I decided that I'd better do some studying up on how to care for my vintage pieces. I've also got a lovely black wool skirt suit from the 1930s, a 1960's slinky Bond Girl dress with rhinestone straps, and a 1930's black dress with a lovely lace collar, along with a bunch of other funky things like old fake fur coats and leather shoes with Minnie Mouse bows. Oh, and the handbags. Lots and lots of vintage handbags. And gloves. And, possibly, a bit of a vintage clothing addiction.

I looked up articles on caring for older fabrics and well-loved and worn dresses, and by far the best of the best was this list on VinatgeVixen.com. They cover everything from how to figure out if you can machine wash something, to what questions to ask the dry cleaner before you entrust them with your dress that you might be in serious love with. They also offer practical tips for wearing vinatage pieces, reminding us that we often wipe our hands on our clothes without thinking about it.

Do you have vintage pieces in your closet? How do you love them and keep them in good shape?

Beauty myth put to the test: Preparation H for under eye bags

2008-10-23T09:50:47-05:00

Dear Preparation H,

I don't want to hurt your feelings, so I'll try and be as kind and fair as possible here. That said, I need to tell you (just so you'll know where we stand) that our one brief and hurried date was enough to let me know: we were not meant to be together.

Maybe I waited too long to ask you out. Maybe the years of listening to whispered stories of all you could do for me set my hopes impossibly high. Maybe the dark circles and bags under my eyes are just too much for any product. Maybe it wasn't really your fault.

Remember when we met? I was looking for you on the pharmacy shelves, accidentally bumping into a couple of other shoppers in my excitement over finally (after all this time!) getting to meet you. When the pharmacist asked if I needed any help, I said to him in a voice loud enough for all the other people to hear, "Yes, thanks. I want some Preparation H!"

He walked over to your corner of the store, looked back over his shoulder at me, "You want the suppositories?" "Uh, no?" I said, wondering if there was some way we could try and make that work. "Gel or ointment?" he asked me. I paused to consider. "I think I need to see the boxes," I told him (and the entire store).

I stood at the counter, reading your description. I chose you, Gel, because of your non-greasy and cooling promises. I turned down the offer of a bag, instead tucking you into your very own pocket in my handbag and walking out of the store feeling hopeful and energized.

That first night at my house, the tension was incredible. I was up literally all night long with my sick daughter. The hours crept by, and when 4 a.m. arrived to find me still awake I thought once more of you and how great it was going to be to take you out of your yellow box and get to know you.

Dawn came, and I honestly believed that the time for us to meet could not have been more perfect.

I made us some coffee (in the French press, even!) and made sure that the kids were occupied with breakfast and cartoons. I closed the bedroom door, and brought you over to the vanity in my room. The one with the big mirror. I was so relieved to discover that the one ugly rumor I'd heard about you was not true; you smelled fine, just fine! I looked at my puffy eyes in the mirror one last time and went for it.*

You lived up to the bold promises on your box. The cooling under my eyes really woke me up, and there wasn't any greasyness. I was charmed, I really was. And you didn't waste any time getting to work; right away I could feel things tightening up, maybe even shrinking. Before long, the area under my eyes felt like they were coated in salt water. I thought we were on the right path, Gel. I really, really did.

Smiling to myself, I got the kids ready for school and then came back to the bathroom to put on my makeup.

I hope you don't feel bad about the whole dark circle thing, because I never expected that from you. I was just hoping that you could shore things up a little for me, make me look 28 again. Oh, who am I kidding? I'd have settled for 35. I'm not sure how to say this nicely, so I'll just be brief: you are not the Gel for the job. And, really? You sort of led me on. You made it feel like you were shrinking things, but when I looked in the mirror it was the same old tired me looking back. It's like you were never even there at all. I know you tried, and I know I expected so much and didn't come to you until things were dire, but still. I think we're through. If it helps you feel better, I can honestly say that I'm so sorry things didn't work out. You just don't know how much I wanted you.

Best wishes,

Jenifer

* For the record: It's not wise to use a product for anything other than what it's labeled for. I do not recommend using a product near your eyes if it was sold to go on your, uh, someplace else. If you want to use ANY product in a creative way, please give your doctor (or friendly neighborhood pharmacist) a call.

Vans - 80s fashion worth keeping

2008-09-16T05:40:49-05:00

Before school began this fall my eleven year old asked if I'd take him shopping for clothes. And shoes. Just the two of us. On his list: new checkerboard Vans, black skinny jeans, a seatbelt buckle belt, and "cool stuff."

I really, honestly do love to shop for clothes, but I have to go to smaller stores because in my world shopping malls are Of the Devil. I can't focus on looking for the good jeans if I'm busy having a hard time breathing because there is too much stuff and too many people around me. Of course, all the places we needed to go were in the mall and nothing else would do. I agreed to take him because I love him, because he was about to start middle school, and because I was beyond stoked that my boy was not only interested in fashion, but was seeming to like the same kind of stuff I do. Or did. When I was his age, maybe a little older, I wore Vans, too, along with OP sweatshirts and 501s. (I also rocked the Skateboarding Is Not A Crime black tank top.)

We drove to the mall and circled around for a little bit until we found a parking place. It was painful to walk in the doors and through the food court, into the noise and the crowd, but Lex held my hand and steered me toward our first stop, Hot Topic. If you've never been to Hot Topic, I'll just say that the music is loud and not easy-listening, and the clothes are goth and metal inspired. They actually don't sell tween sizes, but we learned that if the skinny jeans are tight enough through the legs, they can totally be like six inches too long and no one will ever be able to tell. You just scrunch them to the right length. I, for one, have zero interest in trying on skinny jeans, and even my sorta spindly-limbed boy was eyeing the calf of the pants and trying to figure out if he'd be able to get his foot through because they were so very narrow. After he got them on and opened the dressing room door so I could see, he said, "Okay. But if they shrink in the wash I'll never be able to get them on again." And my laugh? Completely with him, not at him.

We left Hot Topic with the jeans, a seatbelt buckle belt (that I am just waiting for a chance to borrow), and a retro and worn looking Who t-shirt.

And then we went to the Vans store. The Vans store had three walls of shoes, all stacked to the ceiling. There were plain Vans, graffiti ones, checkerboards, so-very-80s-looking kinda spray paint effect pink and turquoise ones, and all sorts of other choices. We spent a long time just deciding which ones to try on, and then I had to talk him out of the shiny black and grey checkerboard ones and into the red and black. I personally don't think shiny has a place there, but this is a new genration of Vans wearers and I suppose they need to make them their own, just like we used to draw our own checkerboards on the plain pair. (I'd love to research the role of the Sharpie pen in fashion.)

He got socks, too, low cut ones. I had to tell him no on the suspenders and seventy dollar fedora, even though I was kinda sorry to have to. We went up to the counter and checked out, and I realized that the kid waiting on us probably wasn't even on this planet the first time I slipped on a pair of Vans. It was sort of odd being there in the role of cool mom instead of hip shopper, but it wasn't a bad thing.

We left the store and walked back to the car with our bags. Lex actually held my hand again, willingly, in public. He looked up at me from under his long hair and smiled and said, "Thanks, Mom." I looked back at him, this cool kid of mine and said, "You're welcome. You do know that you have to let me borrow those before they get to smelly."

"Naw," he said, "you should just get your own."

Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker - Support group forming now

2008-08-27T05:43:03-05:00

I was shopping for the holidays last year when I first saw it, and I'm not embarrassed to say that as I reached out my hand to grab the package, I gave the kind of excited squeeeee! that's not generally heard coming from a supposed grown up. It was a tube, all nicely packaged, of Bonne Bell Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker; the very same lip gloss I'd fallen so hard for in the late 1970s. My heart was kind of, well, racing, actually, as I stood in the checkout line with my rediscovered love. Would it be as good as I remembered? Did they dare to mess with the formula?

"Oh, you so don't need to put that in the bag," I said to the cashier, slipping my score into my purse. I pushed my cart out the door where I found I couldn't wait any longer. I stood there in front of the store, the weak winter sunlight shining off the plastic separating me from my lip gloss. I opened the package and brought it up to my nose: excellent! It smelled exactly right. I twisted the bottom of the tube and tried it out. I may have cried a little bit because it was honestly everything I ever wanted in a lip gloss, from the silky texture to the smell to the teeny bit of color. And the tube vs. having to stick my finger in a pot (or try and scrinch my lips right into the pot of lip stuff -- am I alone on this one?) was such an improvement. From that day on my Dr. Pepper lip gloss and I went everywhere together, just like old times. I'm talking the trips I take where it's just me, my keys, and my mobile, soon included the Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker. I even formally listed it as one of the three things I always have with me. So, yeah, childhood love completely rekindled.

Winter gave way to spring, and one fateful May day I absentmindedly left my lip gloss in the little well that is in the armrest in the driver's side door of my van. It's a tiny little spot, perfect for keeping the lip gloss at my elbow while driving. By the time I realized (with much horror and gasping in of breath) that I'd left my lip gloss in the car, in the sunny parking lot, it was too late. The carnage was unbearable to witness: it got so melted that it actually leaked out the lid. First I Twittered about it (and got much sympathy!) and then I went back to the store and replaced it that day, though I did wipe off the original tube and keep it in the same place where it had melted. I mean, I couldn't just throw it away!

It seems I am not the only one with an intense craving for this stuff. All the following posts: Lip Balm Junkie by Veena Thomas; Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker How Do I Love Thee by Evette; and Amalah's Flashback Friday: Bonne Bell Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker talk about the gloss with words generally reserved for describing addiction, passionate love affairs, or really, really good cupcakes.

And that is what makes me feel better about my recent order from Bonne Bell and for the way I felt when I saw that box in the mailman's hands. I only ordered twelve. Which, you know, isn't really excessive or anything because since they only cost $1.60 it just doesn't make sense to order a couple. Think of the fuel I conserved by ordering so much at once! And, now? Now I've got one that lives on my desk at work, one in my purse, one on the nightstand, one in my makeup bag, one to keep in my pocket when I wear pants, one to take to yoga (I keep a tube next to my water bottle, just in case I need to reapply. What? It's a 90 minute class!), and still more unopened packages. I'm not kidding when I tell you that I breathe a little bit easier these days, secure in the knowledge that a tube of Dr. Pepper lip gloss is pretty much always likely to be within reach.

Do you love Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker, too? Spill! I want to hear all about it.

Kiss Me mascara - Tube your lashes

2008-07-31T20:48:11-05:00

First off, a confession: mascara and I have had a rocky partnership for the past twenty five years. I have hay fever that compells me to rub my eyes, I'm a crier, and I'm too lazy to find cotton balls and eye makeup remover every night. Once, in high school, I watched my friend's impossibly cool, older, very punk rock sister use a safety pin to seperate her mascara-clumped eyelashes. I went home and tried it, but I was no Joelle and quickly realized that bringing a pin that close to my eyeball was scary and made my eyes water. As I got older and my life got busier and busier, my dark eyelashes and I decided that we didn't need mascara (or eyeliner) anymore, because it was just too much work. You know how some people only go to church on holidays? I was a Special Occasion Mascara Wearer, and it had to be something good to inspire me to dig that deep in my makeup bag. Whenever I got ready to go to a wedding, I'd stand there holding the mascara in one hand trying to figure out whether or not I'd cry at the wedding. But, no more!

The fabulous Jenny Lauck and I were walking through Sephora in San Francisco after lunch. We came to the mascara area and I started to just blow right past to the glass jars of pretty, pretty lip gloss. Jenny stopped me, pointed to the Kiss Me mascara and said, "Ooooooh. You use this, right? It's so awesome." I sighed and told her that mascara and I were currently on the outs. My eyes might have started watering a little just talking about it. She pulled me close and set me straight, "This stuff rocks! It makes little tubes on your eyelashes and it won't smear or run. And? It only comes off when you want it to. I swear. You can totally go swimming in it. You have to buy this. Seriously."

So, I bought the mascara and read the directions. Then, I tubed my eyelashes and took them out for a test drive. By the end of the day, my lashes looked just as good as they did when I first put the mascara on, and that was amazing in itself because it was one very long day. It was so long, in fact that I went to bed without washing my eye makeup off. When I woke up? Still perfect. At first I was a little worried about how hard this stuff would be to get off. The directions say that the tubes will slide off your eyelashes, but so far they'd been firmly on there for 24 hours. I got into the shower and let the warm water hit my face. Sure enough, the tubes just slid right off when I used very gentle pressure with my fingers. At first I looked at the tubes and was certain that I'd just somehow pulled out all my eyelashes, but when I pinched the tubes with my fingernails and pulled them apart, I could see that there weren't any actual eyelashes inside.

I've worn this mascara just about every day since then, and it holds up to a good long cry, any amount of eye rubbing, and even yoga class in a 105 degree room with major humidity. I know I sound like a liar, and I probably wouldn't believe any of this if I hadn't seen it with my own non-smudgy eyes.

Kiss Me mascara retails for $25. You should treat yourself to some. If you get any clumps when you apply it, be sure to take care of them before the mascara sets. You have two minutes. No safety pins!