Fashion
Showing posts with label Fashion. Show all posts
Vente privée
One of the many perks (and quite possibly the best one) of my job includes priority access to many vente privées throughout the year. A vente privée literally translates to "private sale," but saying it in English doesn't quite give off the same meaning as when I hear it in French. I'd compare it more to a special few days when guests can shop a brand name at their leisure and pay for their items at a very generous employee discount. Sometimes, this means that the sale will be full of past seasons' collections or off-colored and blemished items, but that is not usually the norm.
Last year, I attended my first vente privée in Paris, and it was such an adrenaline rush. Usually, a huge line forms before the sale begins, and depending on the brand's popularity, it could continue throughout the day. Most sales are held in spaces or warehouses specifically designed and purposed for such, which means they are professionally staffed with people who run these kinds of private sales for a living. Nothing but wallets and cell phones are permitted on the selling floor, so a mandatory coat and purse check is the first place to visit after showing your invitation and ID to the security guard at the door (once you've finally made it there). Then, you grab a massive plastic bag and fill it with as many shoes, purses, wallets, and clothes your heart desires before finally sorting it out into "keep" and "sadly leave behind" piles.
There are no dressing rooms to try your clothes on, so oftentimes, you'll catch a glimpse at someone's undies or see people posing with their hangered treasures in front of the few mirrors available. Most bags, shoes and haute couture items are placed on shelved walls guarded by staff members who stand in front of the shelves and behind a table of display bags. You can usually grab what you want from the table, but if you notice something sparkling on the shelf, you can simply ask for it from the staff member.
As much as it all sounds like such a privileged and organized event, it can get pretty ugly. I went to a sale a few weeks ago on its third day of opening (vente privées can last anywhere from one to five or more days), and could not believe the chaos that normally respectable ladies were causing ... for fabric bags, no less! The staff can only stock so much on display, so the rest is left hidden "backstage" in cardboard boxes that don't give any indication as to what's in them. For deal-desperate shoppers, this means that as the day goes on, there will be more stock with possibly newer items available for sale, so, someone's dream bag could be trapped in a cardboard box and not come out until the end of the sale. And, that's what these "ladies" were hoping would happen for them if they waited and pushed long enough. Despite there being limits on how many bags and shoes can be purchased, these women had gobs of handbags well over the limit and had invited every friend, neighbor and cousin to come with them so they could amass the most stock possible. I could barely stand the insanity, so I left empty-handed from that sale and swore to never again wait to come when the invitation is extended beyond the employees of the company (it's usually open to anyone with an invite after the first day).
There are a few "big" brands that everyone looks forward to but are really strict on the amounts of items you can buy and whether or not you can bring a guest (you usually can't for the popular brands). And, as for the prices, well, they're quite good considering the brand that's being sold and the retail prices that the items would normally sell for. But, these are expensive goods we're talking about here, so it's kind of just relative.
My job has definitely fed my desire for fancy purses and logoed shoes that I never really had so much before. Women at my office are often dressed head to toe in recognizable designer threads, so walking around in my Zara dress, H&M heels and Gap handbag doesn't turn many heads for the right reason. And, mostly I'm OK with that. I never buy everything I want, but I often rationalize my rare vente privée splurges by reminding myself that every Parisienne needs a nice handbag (or four) and that I won't have access to the sales once my work contract is up. Now, rationalizing my need for three more handbags to Gui, well that's another story, and obviously, he's no longer sensitive to my so-called "need" to fit in.
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Last year, I attended my first vente privée in Paris, and it was such an adrenaline rush. Usually, a huge line forms before the sale begins, and depending on the brand's popularity, it could continue throughout the day. Most sales are held in spaces or warehouses specifically designed and purposed for such, which means they are professionally staffed with people who run these kinds of private sales for a living. Nothing but wallets and cell phones are permitted on the selling floor, so a mandatory coat and purse check is the first place to visit after showing your invitation and ID to the security guard at the door (once you've finally made it there). Then, you grab a massive plastic bag and fill it with as many shoes, purses, wallets, and clothes your heart desires before finally sorting it out into "keep" and "sadly leave behind" piles.
There are no dressing rooms to try your clothes on, so oftentimes, you'll catch a glimpse at someone's undies or see people posing with their hangered treasures in front of the few mirrors available. Most bags, shoes and haute couture items are placed on shelved walls guarded by staff members who stand in front of the shelves and behind a table of display bags. You can usually grab what you want from the table, but if you notice something sparkling on the shelf, you can simply ask for it from the staff member.
As much as it all sounds like such a privileged and organized event, it can get pretty ugly. I went to a sale a few weeks ago on its third day of opening (vente privées can last anywhere from one to five or more days), and could not believe the chaos that normally respectable ladies were causing ... for fabric bags, no less! The staff can only stock so much on display, so the rest is left hidden "backstage" in cardboard boxes that don't give any indication as to what's in them. For deal-desperate shoppers, this means that as the day goes on, there will be more stock with possibly newer items available for sale, so, someone's dream bag could be trapped in a cardboard box and not come out until the end of the sale. And, that's what these "ladies" were hoping would happen for them if they waited and pushed long enough. Despite there being limits on how many bags and shoes can be purchased, these women had gobs of handbags well over the limit and had invited every friend, neighbor and cousin to come with them so they could amass the most stock possible. I could barely stand the insanity, so I left empty-handed from that sale and swore to never again wait to come when the invitation is extended beyond the employees of the company (it's usually open to anyone with an invite after the first day).
There are a few "big" brands that everyone looks forward to but are really strict on the amounts of items you can buy and whether or not you can bring a guest (you usually can't for the popular brands). And, as for the prices, well, they're quite good considering the brand that's being sold and the retail prices that the items would normally sell for. But, these are expensive goods we're talking about here, so it's kind of just relative.
My job has definitely fed my desire for fancy purses and logoed shoes that I never really had so much before. Women at my office are often dressed head to toe in recognizable designer threads, so walking around in my Zara dress, H&M heels and Gap handbag doesn't turn many heads for the right reason. And, mostly I'm OK with that. I never buy everything I want, but I often rationalize my rare vente privée splurges by reminding myself that every Parisienne needs a nice handbag (or four) and that I won't have access to the sales once my work contract is up. Now, rationalizing my need for three more handbags to Gui, well that's another story, and obviously, he's no longer sensitive to my so-called "need" to fit in.
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My latest splurge.
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My latest sacrifice. (So sad.)
The REAL reason French women aren't fat
So, I'll just go ahead and explain this "phenomenon" to put to rest all the theories being tossed around by curious weight-watchers. It's not because they eat smaller portions or stay away from sugars and fats; it's not even necessarily because of good genes or, as my husband's grandmother puts it, "French people are made differently." But, the real reason women mostly come in size small and medium here is because living in a country where public transportation is fundamentally necessary to live, running after buses and trains and metro cars is just a daily way of life.
When I was first applying for my carte de séjour, I remember being asked during my mandatory medical exam whether or not I exercised. I thought about it for a moment, and decided not to lie, so I told the doctor that since arriving in France, I'd stopped doing yoga, but felt like I got enough exercise just going from place to place. He must have thought that I was either joking or incredibly lazy, but it was absolutely true.
Counting how many city blocks I've either walked rapidly or run through today, I can honestly say I've registered at least a mile. Easy. And that's including getting lucky enough to catch the bus. Let's see, I ran about a block to catch this morning's bus. Walked at least another 2 city blocks through the metro station before running to get to the last car (which is closer to the exit at my destination station). Then I walked the 7 minutes, or 3 Paris blocks from the station to work, then another 4 blocks to get lunch and come back. And, I made the return trip all over again, but took a detoured bus that required me to run another city block to catch the right one before walking the couple of blocks home. And that's on a lazy day! I came straight home after work today and went to lunch closeby. Add, to all this fast-paced commuting, a 10-pound purse, a coat and heels, and you've got yourself a real work-out.
One could argue that my eating habits have changed too, but I can honestly say that I never deny myself any gastronomic pleasure (except for those few days during the Christmas break after I fed myself to the point of sickness...I'll be nice and spare all the details). I love food. LOVE IT. But, in France I've found that although the quantity of food I eat has not changed, the quality and type of food most definitely has. Rarely do I eat processed or fried foods, but I've never eaten so much dairy (cream and cheese mostly), sugar (hello, patisseries and chocolate!), and foie gras in my life! Most of the fatty foods I used to eat in Texas have been replaced by more natural fatty foods, and perhaps that also has something to do with it. I've seen French women eat me under the table (even a certain 70-something mother of my father-in-law), and I never go out to eat with a French woman without having dessert (lunchtime is no execption). But, as much as I'd like it to be so, we're not having a box of fried chicken and crinkle-cut fries or cheese enchiladas and a Coke. So, I guess it all kind of balances itself out.
I'm not too dumb to realize, too that my freakishly, self-diagnosed high-metabolism has a lot to do with my staying thin, but I also know that I'm not immune to gaining weight. My genes are not as generous as they may appear, and after my all-you-can-fit-in-your-gullet stint in Texas this summer, I was feeling the push against my waistline when I returned to l'Hexagone. Of course, none of this is probably true in any scientifically proving way, but after being here for a couple of years now, it's my observation and a good explanation for why the stores can't keep any small sizes stocked. I'm convinced if every French woman could drive where and when she wanted, there'd be a lot more x-smalls and smalls on the boutique racks. And, in an effort to find more clothes in my size round here, I plan on reminding every woman I know in Paris about this Friday's World Nutella Day. No self-respecting [French] woman can resist this. Miam!
February 5th, 2010
Fashionless in the fashion capital
It's crunch time and with only two full days left before we start vacationing, I'm scrambling to tie up some loose ends, organize our apartment and get everything packed in time for our Wednesday flight. In the midst of all this sorting and packing, I'm noticing a trend with my packing rationale, and I'm starting to realize how segregated my wardrobe is. Living in two different yet equally dashing cities has caused a multiple-personality disorder in my closet. It's interesting to see how how many articles of clothing I have hanging or folded that have never seen the light of a Paris day. And, it's crystal clear to me that my fashion sense is split up into two very distinct wardrobes.
My Paris wardrobe is so much younger, edgier and totally trendy. Black flats, low-heeled boots, tapered-leg jeans, tunics, and layering sweaters in monochromatic tones. Practical streetwear for my city-girl lifestyle. And my rain boots and umbrella are always within arms' reach in the likely event that the rain clouds roll through after a perfectly sun-drenched morning. Ah, Paris.
Contrastingly, my non-Paris wardrobe (or I suppose my Austin wardrobe) consists of flip-flops, multicolored tank-tops, strappy stilettos, pumps and sandals, tube-tops and patterned dresses. Anything that I can get an even tan in while running around during the day or be comfortable walking in from the parking garage to happy hour in the evening. Rarely is there a need for sweaters or boots, umbrellas or coats, yet a week's worth of swimsuits are always on hand should a spontaneous trip to the pool or lake be required.
Sifting through my "take" and "don't take" piles, it's pretty clear to see the lines that divide my two-faced wardrobe - comfort and color. Paris is a walking city, and that's pretty evident by the amount of flats and low-heels that I'm planning to leave behind while I'm vacationing in Austin. I thought I'd wean myself back into wearing longer talons by sporting a pair while out on the town last night, and man did I remember quickly why heels and Paris just don't mix! It's just as well, though because I seem to fit in well enough with the flat-shoe-sportin' boho crowd that I frequently find myself surrounded by. And, as funky as I consider my Parisian-leaning wardrobe to be, I find it's far less colorful than its American counterpart. I don't know why exactly, but I've somehow managed to steer far away from the festive hues while running through the rues. I'd like to think that it's a side-effect of the less-than-festive attitude I've adopted since becoming a resident of the "least friendly European city," but I'm pretty sure it's simply a case of wanting to fit in. Bright colors can get big stares here and I'm of the kind that favor blending in more than sticking out, so I tend to keep it neutral.
I'm excited about stepping back into my heels without the added worry of how far the walk will be to the metro, and I'm looking forward to going strapless once again without the added self-consciousness that comes from gawking, sleeve-wearing pedestrians. Paris may be the best-dressed city in Europe, but although I'd like to think that I contributed to that title, I'm pretty sure I stayed at home when they took that survey. So, I'm enthusiastically leaving comfy and drab behind for these next few weeks to remind myself what it feels like to be part of a fashionable world without paying mind to the typical concerns of a foot-traveler. Which, coincidentally, gives me another excuse to do some shoe-shopping.
My Paris wardrobe is so much younger, edgier and totally trendy. Black flats, low-heeled boots, tapered-leg jeans, tunics, and layering sweaters in monochromatic tones. Practical streetwear for my city-girl lifestyle. And my rain boots and umbrella are always within arms' reach in the likely event that the rain clouds roll through after a perfectly sun-drenched morning. Ah, Paris.
Contrastingly, my non-Paris wardrobe (or I suppose my Austin wardrobe) consists of flip-flops, multicolored tank-tops, strappy stilettos, pumps and sandals, tube-tops and patterned dresses. Anything that I can get an even tan in while running around during the day or be comfortable walking in from the parking garage to happy hour in the evening. Rarely is there a need for sweaters or boots, umbrellas or coats, yet a week's worth of swimsuits are always on hand should a spontaneous trip to the pool or lake be required.
Sifting through my "take" and "don't take" piles, it's pretty clear to see the lines that divide my two-faced wardrobe - comfort and color. Paris is a walking city, and that's pretty evident by the amount of flats and low-heels that I'm planning to leave behind while I'm vacationing in Austin. I thought I'd wean myself back into wearing longer talons by sporting a pair while out on the town last night, and man did I remember quickly why heels and Paris just don't mix! It's just as well, though because I seem to fit in well enough with the flat-shoe-sportin' boho crowd that I frequently find myself surrounded by. And, as funky as I consider my Parisian-leaning wardrobe to be, I find it's far less colorful than its American counterpart. I don't know why exactly, but I've somehow managed to steer far away from the festive hues while running through the rues. I'd like to think that it's a side-effect of the less-than-festive attitude I've adopted since becoming a resident of the "least friendly European city," but I'm pretty sure it's simply a case of wanting to fit in. Bright colors can get big stares here and I'm of the kind that favor blending in more than sticking out, so I tend to keep it neutral.
I'm excited about stepping back into my heels without the added worry of how far the walk will be to the metro, and I'm looking forward to going strapless once again without the added self-consciousness that comes from gawking, sleeve-wearing pedestrians. Paris may be the best-dressed city in Europe, but although I'd like to think that I contributed to that title, I'm pretty sure I stayed at home when they took that survey. So, I'm enthusiastically leaving comfy and drab behind for these next few weeks to remind myself what it feels like to be part of a fashionable world without paying mind to the typical concerns of a foot-traveler. Which, coincidentally, gives me another excuse to do some shoe-shopping.
Mise à jour
Friday was my last day of French school. It's weird to think that it's already over, that I've been seriously studying this blasted language for over four months. I have mixed feelings about the last day. Part of me thinks that I've learned enough French to put into practice, but another part of me feels like I've only minimally progressed. I couldn't have been better instructed; in fact, my professor surpassed all of my expectations. I'll definitely recommend the courses to someone looking for professional French instruction, and I now understand why the school was so highly recommended to me. Still, I'm happy that it's over, and I'm looking forward to what comes next for me in Paris.
In other news, I've made progress on the health-coverage front. Today, I received my carte vitale, which means I can now get reimbursed for my medical visits [practically] right away instead of having to turn in paperwork and wait for the money to show up in my bank account. On top of that, today I picked up my new contacts and glasses from l'opticien, and I couldn't be happier. I was able to get two pairs of glasses - a light-weight titanium pair that I'll wear at home or when I'm looking for a lighter feel, and another more trendy pair of plastic frames that I'll wear when I don't feel like doing contacts. They also supplied me with a year-and-a-half's worth of disposable contact lenses and six bottles of contact solution. The last two bottles of regular, ol' contact solution I bought in Paris were 20 and 22€ each! Gui has a great insurance plan that will reimburse 100% of our costs, so I'm feeling really lucky about my new eyes. It's still a strange feeling for me to know that when I need to get glasses or contacts, I can just go and get 'em without having to call my health insurance and plan in advance how I'm going to pay for the eye-doctor's visit, frames, lenses and contacts. Next up is a trip to the dentist to see what's going on with this aching tooth I've noticed of late. After having good experiences with the eye doctor and opticien, and now that I have a nifty new carte vitale in my possession, getting my health shiz together is warranting more attention and less procrastination.
The titanium pair. I like how they look like they're barely there. They feel like it, too.
My trendy, little plastic ones. I tried on about 100 pair before finally settling on these. I wanted a different pair for every day of the week.
In other news, I've made progress on the health-coverage front. Today, I received my carte vitale, which means I can now get reimbursed for my medical visits [practically] right away instead of having to turn in paperwork and wait for the money to show up in my bank account. On top of that, today I picked up my new contacts and glasses from l'opticien, and I couldn't be happier. I was able to get two pairs of glasses - a light-weight titanium pair that I'll wear at home or when I'm looking for a lighter feel, and another more trendy pair of plastic frames that I'll wear when I don't feel like doing contacts. They also supplied me with a year-and-a-half's worth of disposable contact lenses and six bottles of contact solution. The last two bottles of regular, ol' contact solution I bought in Paris were 20 and 22€ each! Gui has a great insurance plan that will reimburse 100% of our costs, so I'm feeling really lucky about my new eyes. It's still a strange feeling for me to know that when I need to get glasses or contacts, I can just go and get 'em without having to call my health insurance and plan in advance how I'm going to pay for the eye-doctor's visit, frames, lenses and contacts. Next up is a trip to the dentist to see what's going on with this aching tooth I've noticed of late. After having good experiences with the eye doctor and opticien, and now that I have a nifty new carte vitale in my possession, getting my health shiz together is warranting more attention and less procrastination.
The titanium pair. I like how they look like they're barely there. They feel like it, too.
My trendy, little plastic ones. I tried on about 100 pair before finally settling on these. I wanted a different pair for every day of the week. Reason #388,204 to go shopping
This is why skinny jeans and boots are so popular in Paris. Even an umbrella can't save the bottoms of my wide-legged jeans from the incessant puddles in the uneven streets of this city on a drizzly day. I guess I need to invest in a new pair (or two) of skinny jeans. Thank you, Paris for yet another excuse to go shopping in your tantalizing, eye-popping, over-abundant magasins.
J'aime my new shoes!
While we were in San Antonio, I found a pair of the cutest flats at Gap and decided to get them because I figured if I found something better in Austin, I could always take them back. I don't know why, but I'm always really skeptical about buying something at the first place I see it...it worries me to think I'll find a better bargain or a higher quality items somewhere else. Anyway, I held on to these shoes - tags and all - until I got back to France (I had no need to wear them in Austin where the 100-degree temps called for strictly open-toed shoes). So, after a rainy day, I slipped these babies on and took to the streets, and found that they were totally worth the wait to wear them. I absolutely love how they feel and they go with practically everything I own. And, I know I could never have found a better or comparable deal here in Paris, so I'm a very happy shoe-wearer these days.
Ma nouvelle apparence
translation: my new look
Although it's likely to last for only a fleeting moment, I decided to spice up my blog with some festive colors. I'm not usually the festive type, but since this will be the first year I spend Christmas away from my family, the holiday somehow feels more important than usual. But, I'm really excited about how Christmas works in France, and I can't wait to see Paris in the dead of winter. The year I spent Thanksgiving in London was interesting, and although it's only an American holiday, it was cool to see people still celebrating with turkey and stuffing served at restaurants. But, I do remember missing the food and fun that usually warms my tummy and my heart during Turkey Day, so I'll likely have similar feelings while I'm celebrating Christmas with Guillaume and his family in Paris.
Besides the new look of my blog, I've starting thinking about how my own personal look might change while I'm away. I know I can be a chameleon of sorts, and usually change myself in some way to fit into a new crowd or a new place. So, I'm hesitant to buy the latest trendy sweater here before making my way to Europe where la mode is, likely, not on the same trend as Austin. Yesterday, after a six-hour brunch, I spent a total of $5.00 (parking!) for the entire day, mostly because I was indecisive about buying a pair of shoes here that I might not wear in France. That's definitely a new record for me!
Although it's likely to last for only a fleeting moment, I decided to spice up my blog with some festive colors. I'm not usually the festive type, but since this will be the first year I spend Christmas away from my family, the holiday somehow feels more important than usual. But, I'm really excited about how Christmas works in France, and I can't wait to see Paris in the dead of winter. The year I spent Thanksgiving in London was interesting, and although it's only an American holiday, it was cool to see people still celebrating with turkey and stuffing served at restaurants. But, I do remember missing the food and fun that usually warms my tummy and my heart during Turkey Day, so I'll likely have similar feelings while I'm celebrating Christmas with Guillaume and his family in Paris.
Besides the new look of my blog, I've starting thinking about how my own personal look might change while I'm away. I know I can be a chameleon of sorts, and usually change myself in some way to fit into a new crowd or a new place. So, I'm hesitant to buy the latest trendy sweater here before making my way to Europe where la mode is, likely, not on the same trend as Austin. Yesterday, after a six-hour brunch, I spent a total of $5.00 (parking!) for the entire day, mostly because I was indecisive about buying a pair of shoes here that I might not wear in France. That's definitely a new record for me!
My first day
Today was my first day of training for my new job. I was so excited about it and left 2 hours in advance to ensure an early arrival. Well, Mapquest screwed me over and I got lost for 30 minutes before actually realizing it, so ended up being late by 20 minutes...grrrrr. So, despite my late arrival, I got thrown right into the mix of things and could see that this was going to be the fast-paced environment I had really been craving! Everyone was cool and calm, but definitely busy - just like I like it! I had the typical admin stuff to sort out, but then we got down to the nitty-gritty. My first 2 weeks of training will be on the sales floor. I absolutely LOVE this idea...in my opinion, there's no better way to train someone than from the ground up, even if the position is management or the like. You've got to know what everyone does that contributes to your job, and this style of training is such an asset for attaining success in any position. Anyway, my trainer was trés cool and incredibly efficient with the training bit. She was definitely a better trainer than I think I would have been, and I totally give her kudos for that! It's hard to remember all the things that you need to teach someone who knows absolutely nothing about your daily routine. And, indeed, I learned so much. The best and worst part of training on the sales floor is seeing all the new clothes that you want to immediately buy for yourself or someone else. I couldn't help staring at this cute yellow dress hanging on the rack, and made it a point to walk by it every chance I could, just to sneak a peek. I promised myself I wouldn't buy anything from the store for the first 2 weeks, so short glances and subtle hand-grazing are all I'll have to appease my craving, for now.
The rest of the day was a blur, and it really flew by so quickly. I was told I'd have short, 6-hour work days instead of 8-hours since I'll be getting paid for my travel to and from work during the training sessions. That's such a cool benefit...and did I mention the others? I won't because they're so numerous, but anyone who's interested in working for an awesome retailer in SoCal, they are definitely hiring!
:)
The rest of the day was a blur, and it really flew by so quickly. I was told I'd have short, 6-hour work days instead of 8-hours since I'll be getting paid for my travel to and from work during the training sessions. That's such a cool benefit...and did I mention the others? I won't because they're so numerous, but anyone who's interested in working for an awesome retailer in SoCal, they are definitely hiring!
:)
Exhaustive Progress
Exhaustion has set in. After a long, full day of shopping for work clothes and sandals, I finally headed home around 6pm with a pair of *yawn* black slacks. Boooo. I also scored a $12 sweater at The Limited and a cute tank from Strut, but nothing that was on my list. I kept thinking while I was shopping, "Now, I could buy this pretty cute top for $58 or save my money and spend it on a really cute top at Zara once I get to LA next week." I hope LA doesn't disappoint in the fashion department, but what am I saying?...it's ELLLL AAAAAY...of course it won't disappoint here. Geesh, I must be really tired.
So, after a long day of shopping, I contemplated going out for a drink, but then realized I was just not in the mood to put together an outfit and try to doll myself up. I decided to veg-out, but couldn't help but feel guilty that I wasn't doing something in preparation for this horrid week of packing and cleaning and organizing. About half-way through the opening act of SNL, I jumped off the couch and went straight for the garage to sift through the mountain of Rubbermaid storage boxes. Man, I have a lot of shiznit! After going through the first 3 boxes, I figured I would soon start seeing ornaments and tinsel when I lifted the next box lid, but nope...more kitchen stuff, more purses, more shoes, more JUNK!! Today is the day I decide to ditch my pack-rat ways and turn over a new leaf of purging! It felt good to narrow my box count down from 8 boxes to 4! Woohoo!! My mom could definitely take some hints from the new me; her organization skills are, shall I say, reprehensible and I think she could do with a little purging herself. In fact, it's obvious that her bad pack-ratting habits were passed along to me in the womb. So, alas, I've managed to pack up the kitchen stuffs (as Gui likes to pluralize it) and a few other items to take along, while at the same time making some space in the garage for more of Mom's junk ;)
So, after a long day of shopping, I contemplated going out for a drink, but then realized I was just not in the mood to put together an outfit and try to doll myself up. I decided to veg-out, but couldn't help but feel guilty that I wasn't doing something in preparation for this horrid week of packing and cleaning and organizing. About half-way through the opening act of SNL, I jumped off the couch and went straight for the garage to sift through the mountain of Rubbermaid storage boxes. Man, I have a lot of shiznit! After going through the first 3 boxes, I figured I would soon start seeing ornaments and tinsel when I lifted the next box lid, but nope...more kitchen stuff, more purses, more shoes, more JUNK!! Today is the day I decide to ditch my pack-rat ways and turn over a new leaf of purging! It felt good to narrow my box count down from 8 boxes to 4! Woohoo!! My mom could definitely take some hints from the new me; her organization skills are, shall I say, reprehensible and I think she could do with a little purging herself. In fact, it's obvious that her bad pack-ratting habits were passed along to me in the womb. So, alas, I've managed to pack up the kitchen stuffs (as Gui likes to pluralize it) and a few other items to take along, while at the same time making some space in the garage for more of Mom's junk ;)
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