Haute couture: not quite dressed

The other day I saw a teenage boy sort of tiptoe-shuffling his way down the sidewalk in what I'm sure, if you move in the right circles, was a very chic outfit. He wore a jacket, a bulky sweatshirt, plaid boxers, jeans belted entirely below his ass, and unlaced sneakers into which he had inserted his feet only half way. Is this a new trend? For those who want not only their butts, but also their heels to garner the benefit of a refreshing breeze? Niiiice.

It seemed like a good idea

Several months ago, someone tried to break into the trunk of my car. At least, this is my theory. I got a bag out of the trunk, went the store, came back 15 minutes later and was unable to open the trunk with either my key or with the trunk release lever inside the car. As far as I know, locks don't just up and break themeselve, so I suspect foul play. Apparently, it will cost $150 to replace the lock, so I have chosen to ignore the problem since there are scores of other ways I'd prefer to spend $150. And have. And continue to.

Today I had two bags with me--my purse and a tote bag (for additional things I was obliged to tote). As we all know here in the big city, it is a mistake to leave a bag sitting in the car even if it has nothing of value in it because someone is still likely to break in just on the chance that you have left a sack of cash carelessly on the backseat. So, I couldn't leave it there. Still, I was annoyed at the prospect of having to schlep this second bag to the movies with me.

Just as I was preparing to get out of the car, it occurred to me that I could use the fold-down capability of the back seats, sneak the bag into the trunk from the inside, fold the seat back up and be on my way. I got into the backseat and began to pull vigorously and with considerable force on the seat backs. This did nothing whatsoever, though I did try for rather a long time with increasing agitation. Finally, I fetched the owner's manual to see if there was some sort of release button I wasn't seeing.

There is. It's inside the trunk.

Story time (Part 3)

Levi's has (or had?) an initiative as part of their "Work" campaign called Levi's Workshop: a physical workshop that would be set up in a city for a few months to do cool things, then shut down and moved on. We had one on Valencia for a while last summer. It was full of printing presses and things and it was sad to see it go. They invited Porchlight to collaborate with them to make a little book of stories about work. Alas, I was not included in the wee book, but I was invited to fill in for someone at the last minute for the storytelling performance. The story (about being fired by the Red Cross) as a whole was not recorded, but there is still evidence that it happened. And that I made this face:



There are bits of me onstage here (I mean, all of me was onstage, they just recorded moments):

There's only so much to say

I assume that people who write for clothing retailers and magazines and the like sometimes look at the blank page and think things like, "what else is there really to say about cardigans?"

Moments such as those lead to emails such as today's from Anthropologie. Subject heading: "That's the thing about dresses" Email: "They make our world go round."

?

Photographing the model next to a globe didn't do all that much to clarify the assertion.

Plus, there was cake

My birthday was on Friday and I felt very well celebrated. There was miniature golf and lunch and a handmade birthday crown. Then there was fancy pizza and Harry Potter in the balcony of the theatre where you're allowed to drink wine (I drank wine). But the very best thing of all was this.

I walked in with my two friends to find our seats. We were in a little row that was three seats together (enough for us), a little table, and one lone seat in which a man was already sitting. I put my birthday crown on the little table and saw him glance at it.

"It's my birthday!" I explained. (I'd been telling people all day in case they might be very excited.)
"It's my birthday!" he replied.
We shook hands very enthusiastically and then wished each other happy birthday for the first of several times.

And if that's not jolly, I don't know what is.