Go With The Flow

What's more hip right now than vampires? Tampons, obviously. Let's talk about vaginas, shall we?

I'll admit it-- I'm a bit of a brand whore, and I'm as loyal as the Labrador Retriever you grew up with when I find a product I like. I've worn the same American Eagle jeans since I was in middle school, because they're the cuts that fit me best. I've washed my hair with Garnier Fructis since I was a senior in high school. I only ride in Dansko paddock boots, and Ariat tall boots. I buy Barilla pasta (if it's good enough for the supermarkets in Italy, it's good enough for me). I pitched an ungodly fit when my local pharmacy changed my straight-from-the-brand Ortho Tri-Cyclin Lo to the generic birth control alternative, and had it promptly changed back. (Part of that may have been because the generic pills looked like they had been pressed by some enterprising young meth-head in his back-country trailer park, and also the fact that I am NOT willing to risk my fertility on the cheap shit, because babies are HELLA expensive.) And I have always, ALWAYS used Playtex Gentle Glide tampons (fresh scent,) for as long as...well, for as long as I've been cursing being born female and fertile.

However, this is not to say that I can't occasionally be lured away from a specific product by the seductive siren song of another. While I may be very, very loyal and monogamous in my relationships with people, my relationships with products have a tendency to sometimes end up polygamous. Take, for instance, the last time I found myself journeying down the "feminine care" aisle of my local Rite-Aid on a last-minute "Dear god, like the three bears, my bathroom cupboards are bare and Goldilocks (Little Red Riding Hood would possibly be more apt?) has come to town!" mission. There they were, right in front of me-- the pink box with the familiar script, the reassuringly large "S", the vague floral scent wafting out of the box already. But, three boxes to my right, something caught my eye. It was black. It was colorful. It was modern. It was aggressive! It was a box that said, "Hey, cool lady, let's kick this period's ass like it's past 4 AM at Bungalow 8 and you're on Andy Warhol's arm!" Someone had obviously done enough market research to pick up on the fact that a black background with bright color accents just pops off the shelf (can't express to you how many books I have mysteriously ended up owning based on the fact that my brain sees bright pink on a black cover and instantly equates it with the next Great American Novel and NYT best-seller...which never, in fact, ends up happening), because after some hemming and hawing over the comfort of the familiar versus this bright new interloper, the box of regular-weight U by Kotex Click tampons had popped right into my basket. Women will endlessly be attracted to the shiny and new.

After two trials of "Why could I not have been born a Brandon?" use, here's the list of pros and cons that I've compiled for this new product in regards to how they stand up/fill out/carry their (water) weight against my beloved Gentle Glides. As always, every woman (and her flow) is different, so just because I found it a certain way doesn't mean that you necessarily will, too. Just keep that in mind. Now that we've got that across, here are my VERY opinionated views:

From an aesthetic point of view, the box and packaging of U have it allllllll over Playtex. The tampon cartridges themselves are much smaller, which is convenient because trying to fit a super-weight Playtex tamp in the pocket of a pair of girl's jeans is pretty much like trying to shove an atomic missile into hiding inside of a lycra catsuit. You know something is in there. The U's small cartridge, ever so tiny enough to fit a handful in my summer clutch, also expands to click into place (hence the name, Kotex Click) rather neatly. I got the first box of U's when they offered blue, green, orange and yellow colors instead of the rather sickly purple they replaced the blues with, but hey. Still, they have much more personality than Gentle Glides. And I always thought a woman's tampons told you a lot about her personality.

The thinner plastic cartridge (I never understood why ANYONE, including my mother, would have ever used the cardboard cartridges; I mean, I get that they're more environmentally friendly, blah blah blah go hug a tree, but the sensation of trying to use one is like trying to insert the corner of the box of Annie's Organic Mac & Cheese you just ate for lunch into your down-undah. NO THANK YOU!) also equates to an interesting other plus for Kotex-- you know that phenomenon that happens as you get towards the end of your Time of Bleed when your vagina just kind of shuts down like a government building under attack and stops accepting any foreign bodies into it and is all, "PENIS OR BUST!" and for the life of you, you cannot plead, cajole, coerce, or force another tampon comfortably in there to save your life, or your new pair of underwear? Well, with the very slim plastic cartridge body, the U just kind of...slides by your vaj's defenses unnoticed, like Bond. No struggle, no teeth-gritting, and no more crying and pleading while in a public bathroom stall that distracts other people around you. Solid.

However, the U does fall short of my beloved Gentle Glides in a few places: Namely, the fact that the regular-weight U's are about half the size and absorbency of the regular-weight Gentle Glides. They don't expand as well to fit and leak-proof your lady-bits quite as well as Gentle Glide's cotton protection does, either, probably due to the fact that Gentle Glide's cotton tamps are roughly the same softness and fluffiness that newborn baby kittens are, while U's tamps are made of something that feels suspiciously like yesterday's newspaper that's been lining your kid sister's hamster cage overnight. It's kind of stiff, kind of hard, and has this weird...well, this weird almost shell to the cotton, which acts as kind of like a primary defense system that your bodily fluid have to breach before the damn tamp will begin to absorb. Not, generally, the best thing that one looks for in a tampon.

All in all, this one's kind of a wash. While I continue to buy my Gentle Glides for their vastly superior protection, I've also started making sure that I always have a small box of the regular-weight U's kicking around for either those really light days when my vagina decides that it's on maximum security lockdown, or for those special occasion events like summer weddings, outings on boats, or barbecues when I need either my small clutch instead of a large purse, or don't want to look like I'm smuggling Cuban cigars back into the country in my denim short's pocket. So, U by Kotex Click-- worth the fancy-shamancy hip packaging, but not worth it to entrust any new pairs of underwear to provided that like Victoria, you should want to keep your little monthly visitor a secret.

XOXO

Man Eater

Even though I'm a little rock-n'-roll in my style, it's taken me a long time to hop on board with the whole tights-under-denim-shorts look. Burlington, Vermont, while extremely fashion-forgiving, is not exactly Florence. This girl, however, rocked the look in way that felt easy enough to emulate with pieces out of my own wardrobe when I was getting dressed this morning in a particularly ass-kicking mood. (I'm also lusting after that men's Bone Idol t-shirt HARDBODY.)

I took this Elvis pompadour skull tee that I got at Zara in Florence, sheer black leggings, and my American Eagle medium wash denim short-shorts and called it a Vermont December day with a studded belt, and my Letizia Ferrari black high-heeled motorcycle booties from Italy. I hunted all over the internet for a photo of them, but alas, failed, so you can see them back in this post here, and here are a few other example of black motorcycle booties that I think work with this look nearly sinfully well:

Just a few hints: Keep it all black from the end of your denims down. This elongates your legs and keeps everything uniform. Some girls can pull off brightly colored tights instead of black, but if you have a midget-sized inseam like I do, black is your best friend.

And think Seattle Grunge. Think Kurt Cobain. Pile on the jewelry and top is all off with a flannel long-sleeve shirt. I roll my cuffs to mid-forearm, always. All the better to show off that jewelry with.

I'm currently trying to make up allllll the work I never did this semester before it ends, and juggle it with my social life. Here's a big mea culpa for being spotty about blogging lately-- unfortunately, it's probably going to continue for the next two weeks, but how about I promise that what I DO finally get around to posting sporadically in between crying myself gently to sleep at night at the thought of having to write another speaker reflection paper for Internship and getting my handle on this thing called "acceptable public interactions with men," they'll be really good, thought-provoking, interesting, dishy posts. Ok? Ok. Cheers.

XOXO

Where Have All The Good Men Gone? Someone's Already Dating Them.

Like I've said, I enjoy a challenge and something new. After a year of riding the same merry-go-round, I decided to take a break from the one-man game and see what else was out there and offering itself's up, because, after all, what's good for the gander is good for the goose-- if you're not getting what you want and you need, and if there's no commitment, and he's off having fun elsewhere or not making up his mind-- you should be looking elsewhere, too. Respect yourself; know your worth. If one man won't appreciate it, chances are, another will. Start looking for that man, or men, if you feel like you just want to date casually at this point in time. Men have been doing it for years; it's time for women to start dating and mating like men, too.

And if there's anything he can do, I can do it better. Am I right, ladies, or am I right? Time for me to enter the world of dating, albeit a little bit late in RSVPing. Straight from the dating trenches, I bring you the secret, the Good, the Bad, the Ugly, the Ridiculously Attractive, and the Golden Rule:

The Secret: Your friend's friends are your secret, untapped resource. Ask around and see if anyone is hiding a great guy-- someone they used to date and have remained friends with with no residual desire, just a platonic friend, a brother or cousin or co-worker or classmate, etc. The good news is, your friend can vouch for their sanity, and knows what you're looking for, and can also play referee and deliver the rulings from the other side of the field; if they feel comfortable doing so, of course. (Guys, I hope you realize this goes for you, too-- your buddies could be sitting on some great girls to set you up with!)

The Golden Rule: 10 minutes of straight, uninterrupted talking is possibly one of the smartest moves you can make when you're getting to know someone. Plan the event surrounding those 10 minutes of bliss (or abject horror) accordingly. The object of this first date or meeting is to fill enough time doing something else so that you still don't know everything about each other, because hopefully, the suspense and good feelings created will lend themselves to a second meeting. Sporting events, where it's only considered decent to talk in between innings or quarters or commercial breaks, are a great choice if you're sports fans; catching a show or a concert is another venue that gives you time to re-group and be silent and think, rather than having to spend all the time together talking, which, let's face it, can be trying, or worse yet, means you run out of things to converse about. Though movies aren't generally considered the best since you're sitting silently side-by-side in the dark for 2 hours, it could maybe fly with the right person. Maybe.

The Good: "I offer my most sincere apologies but I have to run; I'll talk to you tomorrow, though."

The Bad: Just signing off or not responding to the last text or leaving. You'd be shocked and amazed how many guys do the "bye!" duck and run, or, don't even say that they're leaving. Common manners is saying goodbye; great manners are apologizing for an abrupt exit, and leaving a time-frame for the next time they'll be in touch. (Same goes for you, ladies-- let a guy know how much you've enjoyed talking with him, and let him know it's either ok for him to contact you again, or that you'll be in touch with him. Stop being so fucking aloof. Let him know he's done well and that you like him. For god's sake, flirt with it if you're into it. A little mystery never killed any romantic suspense, but being an Ice Queen sure as hell never started any grand passion.)

Women tread a fine line with dressing for dates. On one hand, I lived in Italy for 4 months and dropped some major cash on some pretty fashion-forward clothing. On the other hand, no woman should outshine her date-- the goal is to match each other in terms of dress. I'm not talking you two should be in matching tracksuits like how your mom used to buy you and your siblings all color-coordinated outfits for the holiday family photo, but rather, that the way that you dress will compliment the way that he dresses. (Because let's face it, women generally are more fashion-conscious then men. It's easier for us to think of all the outfit possibilities and align that with our plan.) However, this being said, it is always better for the woman to be a little more under-dressed than the man. This is because if a girl shows up dressed to the 9s, while a dude's in his flannel shirt and jeans, it's going to do 2 things: Make him feel self-conscious, and convince him that she's more invested than he is. When in doubt, GO CASUAL. Jeans, boots, and a shirt never went wrong. A skirt and a t-shirt is fine. Tailor your outfit to the location-- if it's a movie or a concert or bar, a dress will look out-of-place. If you're going out for dinner at a place where entrées are $20 and above, you might want to wear that dress there.

The Ridiculously Attractive: When a guy shows up with obvious effort put into his appearance. I dressed a little down; he showed up in a button-up cuffed at the wrists, trousers, and a fresh shave. His stock went through the roof.

The Ugly (Truth): I'm gonna say it-- I hate Facebook chat. I really, really hate Facebook chat. I usually sign in, scope out who's on, and then sign off real quick before any of the random people I went to high school with and haven't talked to in years decide it's time for a reunion! This being said, everyone and their mother is addicted to Facebook today, and it's generally a good place to get in touch with people, meeting, before, or in between or after dates. Today, I logged myself on and sat down, waiting through an excruciatingly weird conversation with one of my best friend's exes, just to ignore the person I actually wanted to talk to. Why? Because I'm a woman. We set up a scene so that we can wait around...and then ignore a guy until he starts talking to us, ESPECIALLY after a date or seeing him for one of the first times in person.

See, it's all about the chase. If you've just met up, or if you just went on the first date, contacting him first it going to cloud your waters. I mean, yes, we're big girls in the 21st century here, and if we like a guy, we know how to let him know. But it's also important to find out exactly how he feels about you. If it didn't go as well on his end as it did on yours, it'll show in how long it takes him to contact you. And if he's enthusiastic about you, you'll also know it by how little time it takes for him to say "hey" again. From there, you've got a pretty educated guess on how receptive he is to you, and if date 2 or meeting up again is an option.

Let's recap: I am perfectly comfortable asking a guy out (though I'd prefer he does, first). I'm fine with asking for digits-- asking for people's phone numbers should be routine by this point in your life. I even periodically open doors FOR MEN. But what am I, and nearly all other women-- and I'd be willing to bet large sums of money on this, if I had it-- still loathe to do? Be the one to make first contact. It's so fucked up, I know, but that's women for you. There. Consider yourself strapped. Go forth, and message her first.

Happy dating! And if you have any dating rules you live and die by-- send 'em in! Lord knows I need all the help I can get.

XOXO

Good Morning, Amurika!

I'm really digging off-the-shoulder tops lately. It's a nice way to show a little extra skin, and is so much more unexpected than showing more cleavage or back. If your neck and collarbone are sensitive, it's sure to get some blood rushing.

I bought 3 cheap pre-made o-t-s tees and a regular crew neck Rolling Stones men's tee the other day, brought it home, and DIY-ed it into an off the shoulder with "Can't Get No..." emblazoned across the back. The first thing I ever DIY-ed (we're not counting the misguided attempts at making my own deconstructed/reconstructed clothing held together with more safety pins than sewing when I was a pint-sized punk-rocker in middle school who refused to "conform to The Man" by, I don't know, wearing jeans and clothing that did not have holes in it?) was what was in it's previous life, an XL white Hanes men's crew neck tee. Now, it's an off-the-shoulder tie-dyed tailored shirt-dress with peek-a-boo holes cut down the spine. Hey, who said I got rid of my holey obsession?

I've been partying a lot lately, and unlike the sophomore bitties who go all-out in dresses, heels, hair and full make-up for a house party to only sit on some guy's couch that's still squishy with spilled cheap beer, my formula for parties goes along the lines of fun, functional, funky, comfortable, and easy. Face it ladies, if the party is happening on the roof or in the basement, and you can't get there because you dress doesn't allow some minor acrobatics and your heels and non-functional, you're not going to be have a fun time.

This is a Kirra scoop-neck, loose-sleeve tunic that I tug over my left shoulder and go. It looks very Parisian over skinny black pants, or hipster-chic layered over a tight knee-length shirt, and under a plaid button-up. You can even belt it at the waist to give it some more shape, but as it already tapers, I'm pretty cool with it as is when not under something less form-fitting. Worn best with lots of jewelry, unwashed Cali-girl hair, and a whimsical attitude.

And the hat? Red Stripe. "Don't worry; beer happy."

XOXO

Not Boring-- Just Grown Up.

This blog used to be a money-making machine. My daily hit count used to look like the Mafia toll from the '70s. I used to write about things like oral sex and porn. It was as good as 2 AM access TV and your own local Girls Gone Wild infomercials. And then I went through some major life changes, met a guy I actually liked and didn't want to kiss & tell, and went to Italy. The campus dish stopped. You had no idea who these people I was meeting and hanging out with were anymore. Page impressions dropped. I get it. We got older, grew apart, and stopped having things in common. Now I write about things like communication between the sexes and how to handle your past-and-still-present exes and why visiting a gynecologist is mandatory for women (and should be for the men they're having sex with, too). Not exactly what you signed up for. Gone are (most) of the hot sexploits. In with the analyses of character. It's a bitch, isn't it? Things change. It's inevitable. And right now, this blog could more rightly be called "Celibacy In The (Foreign) City."

But hey. I'm still here. I'm still alive; therefore, I still have things to write about. It may not be the perfect oral technique (hint: our clit is there for a reason. That is where the party is. Introduce your tongue to it,) but some of it is still pretty pertinent. Guys, if you want to learn why your girlfriend is mad at you, I've got some advice-- ASK HER. (Also, next time, don't be so blatant checking that other chick out.) There are things you can learn here that no other woman would ever tell you about. It's like hiding behind enemy lines. (Hey, that thought appealed to you and your inner pseudo-warrior, didn't it? I get you better than you may think.) And girls, if you want to know how to build your wardrobe up this summer to mix-and-match as many pieces as possible while maintaining a professional edge for work, I'm your girl. (Khaki light-weight trousers, cuffed at the bottom, with a slight paper-bag waist and worn belted and matching with brown wedges and a slightly edgy tucked-in button-down like this leopard-print one, is a great fashion-forward interview outfit. [I call it "Office Safari." Just don't shoot your boss, no matter how tempting it is. There's not much I can do with day-glow orange.] And that white lace shirt from last post goes great with the khakis as well, or, if you want to tough them up, a interesting and slinky tank-top tucked in does the trick, too. And that leopard button-down makes not only the perfect beach cover-up, too, but also a cute out-and-about outfit when paired with black leggings, sandals, and belted at the waist. Like this girl in the photo proves.)

I'm watching a lot of my friends get ready to graduate, and subsequently freak out about having to prove that they can do something in the field that they want to go into. I'm pretty lucky. I started this blog of my own desire, and over a year and a half earlier than is deemed necessary to graduate. And I genuinely love this writing. It's kind of what I want to do with my life. I found my niche early in life, and it would take a lot to pull me out of it. This is how I think. This is how I write. And for better or worse, this is how I live.

But there's always more that can be done. If you really want to do something, I have this crazy wish that by my birthday on June 10th, I will have 50 followers and have cashed in the $10 check from Google AdSense. I'm at 35 followers (and I love EACH and EVERY one of you!) and over half-way to the dollar amount, so-- tell your friends. Tell your boyfriend. Tell your girlfriend. Tell your coworkers. Tell your mom. (Um, or not.) Spread the word. Check back regularly for new stuff. Between leaving Italy in 31 days, adjusting back to the U.S and American men, moving into my first Big Girl apartment, buying a queen-size bed, and trying to find another job, I'm more than SURE I will have plenty of new material.

We have just under 2 months, people. I'm just asking for a small and personal minor miracle. Not the peace for the Pakistan-Israeli conflict and the end of world hunger. Though those are perfectly acceptable things, too.
...And a man who does not utter the words "We shall see," which, as some long-time (like, since the Beginning of Blogging Time) readers may know, may be one of my most hated phrases above all others, right after "But there's something I need to tell you." I get it-- I know what it means when you say that. It's roughly the trying-to-be-polite equivalent of "Not gonna happen, sister!" THAT would be a major miracle. In fact, Jesus may have to intervene.

XOXO

Two Summer Essentials; Lots Of Ways To Wear Them.

Wow. It's been awhile since I've done a fashion post. I mean, a while. And I know what you're thinking-- 'You're in Italy, you idiot, practically fashion capital of the WORLD.' And you're right. But after the initial month-long period of integration here in which I snapped up every black/gray/dark blue, shirt/sweater/sweater-dress, wool/cotton/wool-cotton-blend in sight trying desperately to fill the holes in my wardrobe, blend in, and gain some semblance of warmth since I had been EXTREMELY optimistic in my first-non-Vermont-winter packing and so, was subsequently freezing when Italy ended up not being quite as balmy and sunny as expected...well, I kind of gave up. There's only so many times you can haul yourself out of bed at the ass-crack of the morning, shower, do your hair (15 minutes) and make-up (10 minutes) and then stand in front of your closet in your undies and bra, shivering, going, "Ok-- what's going to make me look like a chic Italian today?" (a totally unspecified amount of time before inspiration hits) before you find yourself hitting snooze to sleep instead of shower, putting your hair back in a bun and headband, smearing on Burt's Bees face cream and chapstick and slipping into (Italian) jeans, boots, and a basic t-shirt or, on my more homesick days, a plaid flannel shirt and walking out the front door like a gigantic "FUCK YOUUUU" to the whole Italian fashion-obsessed culture. Unless, of course, you are a New Yorker and already used to this daily beauty-and-fashion grind. You lucky, lucky bitches.

I daydream about the days I used to be able to put on sweats and drive to class in my slippers.

It's not like I haven't been shopping. (Oh, no-- my bank account balance and debit card statement will prove that I have been.) But it was just boredom shopping, happy-accident shopping, hey-whatever shopping. Nothing I was really thrilled about or really could get excited enough to post about. (Though if you need to know how to dress to look native, unspecial, and disinterested with life in Italy, I am your girl. Black. Lots and lots of black.) Until today, when, in the full sunshine-60+ degrees swing of summer's-promise bliss, I found the two essentials to my summer wardrobe. (And a few other incidentals that went along too well with them to pass up.)

First and foremost, a pair of shoes I've been dreaming about since I tried them on at Peluso nearly a month ago: brown strappy wedges that are honestly some of the most comfortable things I have ever put on my feet while still being devastatingly beautiful. (Seriously. I feel like I could hike up a mountain in them, perfectly fine. And being a Vermont Girl who runs better in her stilettos than in hiking boots, I probably could. And they make this "Thumbellina" as a very tall soldier called me the other day, tall and leggy for once in her life.)

I have never, EVER bought brown leather shoes before, and was a little hesitant about what I would wear them with at first. Being an ex-American Eagle sales associate cult member, I had the denim notion down-- they'll work well with light wash skinny jeans or a denim skirt or shorts. But brown to me says "summer," especially brown wedges. So, what else to pair them with?

I was distraught that I would forever be a fashion Don't in my beautiful brown wedges and mis-paired outfits until I wandered, like by automatic pilot clothing hypnosis, over to H&M, wedges in hand, and Arielle there to guide me with fashion advice. And there, amongst the international low-price clothing, I found it. My Summer Look.

Starting from the feet up, I paired my wedges first with a pair of pseudo-destroyed, medium-wash denim shorts, with extra detailing around the hem and double-pockets. Then I found a loose-fitting see-through white lace t-shirt, much like this one, that looks great either loose, or half-tucked into a pair of cuffed and relaxed boyfriend jeans or denim shorts with a good statement belt and the wedges. Or, take the wedges and the white lace t-shirt, and tuck the shirt into a brightly colored and oh-so-summery floral pencil skirt like this one,

Visit hm.com

also from H&M, which also HAS POCKETS and a gold zipper half-way down the back, and you have a flirty, fun, very seasonal look. OR, you could also take fun and colorful printed dresses (strapless is best at saying "summer"), and play up the dress by keeping the brown wedges practical.

Perfection. Everything was just as comfortable as my jeans/t-shirt/boots regimen (in fact, they're still the same jeans), but was so much more fitting for the new, nearly beachy weather and is almost disconcertingly fashionable with minimal effort. So feel free to mix and match-- you get a great Cost Per Wear with these summer staples that finally, FINALLY will be the happy-medium between my relaxed comfort and the end of the Italian's desire to throw me in front of a speeding moped for not trying hard enough with my attire.

However, I am now on a 50 Euro a week stipend because of my shopping, but I guess it will make me more frugal and also, hey-- if I have to do without food for a day or two, at least I'll fit in my new clothing better.

Ciao, bellas!

XOXO

S.O.S-- Save Our (Relation)Shipping: Care Packages From The Killer-Cool Not-Girlfriend.

So, another dilemma calls for another mass poll. I'm sending Perfect a care package at college. That much has already been decided. Mainly because I texted him this afternoon for his mailing address. Some flirting and trying to weasel out of my what I was sending him later, I got his address. He didn't get any hints as to what I'm sending other than me saying "it's totally you and I don't think you could/should live without it."

At the beginning, the care package consisted of the book that sprouted this whole idea, The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook, and a card. It's true-- the WCSSH lived on my bookshelf for awhile, and has been lent to a couple exes and boys in the past, but when I looked at it with fresh eyes a week ago, I was like, "Damn, that is so perfectly Perfect. How to land a plane? How to fend off a shark? How to deliver a baby in a taxicab? How to jump off a bridge into water? Hey, wait-- this may keep him alive longer and safer when jumping off concrete barriers at the Mills!" I am all for keeping him alive longer.

So we started with the book and a card. As of 3 PM this afternoon while I was texting him for his address, that was what the care package consisted of. But give me time to think, money in my bank account, and the challenge of being the world's best Not-Girlfriend, and I get dangerous.

"I need another little something," I thought. So while card-shopping at Borders (we'll get to the card itself later), I picked up a few Vermont postcards thinking of scrawling a "Greetings from Home!" on the back of one if I could find one of Montpelier.

I one-upped myself.

Almost right after I finished that thought, I picked up one of a beautiful rural town in winter and flipped it over to read the location. Worcester. I can take a sign.

So we have the book, the (soon-to-be-infamous) card, and the postcard of Worcester/home. But no-- this wasn't cutting it. I needed something fun. I needed something that Spencer's Gifts didn't sell because I wanted something neither beer- nor sex-themed because I don't want him A.) drinking his way into another girl's vagina with the help of my loving gift, or B.) in another girl's vagina with the help of my loving gift. Melissa suggested a mini First Aid kit to go with the WCSSH. Perfect. Helpful, and themed. I loved it. To EMS we went.

But as we're standing in EMS debating over small First Aid kits, I get struck with a thought. I don't want to be considered the (gasp!) Mommy Girl. I don't want to be thought of as the girl who's constantly telling him to be careful and watch out and oh go, don't do that! I want to be the fun girl who sends great care packages. I want to be the best Not-Girlfriend there ever was. I needed...something fun. And a mini battery-operated light-flashing frisbee was fun. There was only a moment of worry about the fact that while I can palm it comfortable, Perfect's hands will eat it up-- what the hell? It's a mini light-up frisbee! It's great! It's...dare I say? PERFECT.

At the register, after forking over my debit card for the umpteenth time that day, the guy behind the counter looks at me. "Hey. How are you?"

I huff a sigh. "I'm good."

"That doesn't sound good."

"Well, I'm just trying to put together a care package for my guy and spending more time and thought and money on it than I thought I would be originally. But I guess it's a good day if you're having a hissy-fit over being generous."

And then this total stranger said something while ringing me out that made my ears ring. "Hopefully he's not out drunk and hooking up with another girl."

Ummm, EXCUSE ME? I worry enough about this on my own time. Aren't you paid to make your customers feel GOOD?! Thankfully, after seeing my glazed and then bitchy expression (the bitchy more at the thought of what if Perfect is out getting some other girl off rightthissecond), Register Dude calmed his shit down and assured me I was putting together a kick-ass care package a guy would love. Thanks.

So...we have the WCSSH. The Worcester postcard. The mini First Aid kit, which will totally be used, with Band-Aids and athletic tape and aspirin and alcohol wipes...yeah, I feel good about that one...and the mini light-up frisbee, which is a great homework breaker and roommate bonder. (Melissa, my roommate of the past 3 years, bonded over a light-up rubber ball our freshmen year. Anything light-up and toy-themed is apparently the key to roomie love in college.) And then...there's the card.

Oh, the card. I have to say, I'm not really posting this to sway my mind about sending it. I'm posting this to see the responses I get A.) about the care package items and if you think Perfect will like/enjoy/use them/love me a little more for sending them, B.) to see how many of you think I'm totally off my rocker for sending this boy a care package, even though I send EVERYONE car packages, (They're kind of my deal. I make bitchin' things to send to people. Although it's usually to my girl friends and that's why I'm freaking out so much about this particular very "boy" care package,) and C.) to prepare for what Perfect may think about the card. Regardless, that card, and it's message, are going into the care package box tomorrow. Perfect knows my humor. I know what he takes seriously and what he doesn't. If I can get away with telling him one of my other lovers took the sexy pics of me, I can get the point of this card across in the way it's supposed to be-- funny college sexy humor-- and not the way I wouldn't want it to be taken-- I want him to follow the directions on it because I'M SO IN LOVE WITH HIM.

I'm not. To clear up any questions. I adore him with all my heart, and I do love him, but I'm not IN love with him. I still haven't had enough time or time with him to see if he's someone I could be in love with. My gut tells me that yes, given time and the chance, I could, but my mind is telling me I've had neither time nor the chance.

...Although it was pointed out that we have now known each other for 5 months and been more or less together for all of it. (I'm going for the "less." True, for the first month we were solidly together, but June and July were iffy and weirdly polite and formal and non-thrilling. August and September are shaping up well though as to the Return of the "Us.")

So. The card. It reads on the front: "How to please a woman? Love her, die for her, take her to dinner, miss the football for her, buy her jewelery, be interested in what she has to say... How to please a man? Show up naked; bring beer."

The inside is blank. In it, I plan to write, "Sorry-- couldn't ship any beer."

See? Funny. Light. College. Not crazy wannabe housewife and babymama. No pointed hints that I want him to skip the football or buy me jewelry. In fact, I would yell at him if he turned the football off, and my father the goldsmith and jeweler is the only man I accept jewelry from, thanks. I also plan on writing some other little stuff about the contents, like "Have fun, and the First Aid kit is for when you need to stick yourself back together after jumping off those buildings and wrestling those alligators," (referencing inside the WCSSH). Keep it light. Keep the front of the card and him thinking about me, naked, with beer, and the inside calm, cool, collected, sweet, and funny. The best Not-Girlfriend there ever was, in other words. The kind of thing that will make him want to take this Not-Girlfriend and tear the "Not" right off of the beginning.

So, loyal readers, what do you think? Is this a winning care package? Will my dyslexic Prince Charming be so taken with the survival guide's quirky subject matter that he'll maybe read some parts of it and keep himself alive a bit longer and not succumb to a random drive-by shooting or shark attack in quintessential, land-locked New England-town Fitchburg, Mass? Does this score me major boy brownie points, and, as I screamed in the parking lot outside of EMS to Melissa, not realizing that there were families waiting to get into the Italian restaurant next door, does this at least deserve getting fucking laid next time I see him? (The amount I have spent will remain a secret known only to me, but in any case, the sex would be worth it. I don't expect a care package of my own back, unless you're counting the package inside his jeans, and then, YES PLEASE.) And, how do you think the card will go over? Hmmm? Hmmm???

Tell me. I'm all ears.

...And eyes and lips and arms and legs and boobs. Of course. Sillies.

XOXO

"To Be Irreplaceable, One Has To Be Different." Fall Fashionista.

Yesterday afternoon, I watched the Lifetime movie "Coco" about Coco Chanel. One of her immortal lines happened to snag my ear like a dog on the end of a chain.

"To be irreplaceable, one has to be different."

What works for fashion works elsewhere, too. Self-marketing in both your professional life and in your relationships is incredibly important. For me, as a writer, it's asking myself: "What makes me a different writer people want to read from the thousands of other writers? What is special that I have to offer?" I know what the industry is like for writers. How many other young women are out there writing about love and sex and relationships? Thousands. Millions. How many of them can also write about fashion and review books and movies and food and music? How many of them can edit? Know how publishing works? Can run a staff? That is where my strength lies-- not in my content, but in the parts that make up my character and experience.

In relationships, the concept of being irreplaceable probably means more to me because the thought of being replaced leaves me terrified, with a deep, wrenching hole in both my heart and stomach. "What sets me apart from the other girls?" is what you have to ask yourself, especially when you're dealing with someone like Perfect, who has a veritable harem. So I call and text less-- not every day, maybe every two or three days. Sometimes I let it go five, long enough for him to notice my absence and wonder what I'm doing. I flirt harmlessly with other guys, letting it spill out to public places like my Facebook wall, where he can see. (Jealousy is a trait I've have just started to realize will motivate Perfect. Being an illogically jealous person myself, I can work with this.) Sass him back when he needs to be put into his place, because you can be damn sure no other woman is sassing him back. The boy can get a bit big for his britches, and those are some big britches in the first place. Make him work for it. Friday night when he was begging for pictures of me, I didn't send one, even though it killed me not to. He's used to things coming to him easily in life, and having to wait and work for something makes it so much more delicious when you finally do get it. Extending the suspense is both seductive and invigorating. As another quote Chanel said to one of her lovers, "You can be very cruel."

"Like anyone who is in love," he replied.

And to get back to the fashion segment of the Chanel quote on irreplaceability, sometimes it means not following trends. Acid-wash may be a huge look for fall, but I absolutely abhor it. Instead, I counter with the idea of plaid and denim: a red plaid shirt with either jeans or cut-offs has that rustic fall look that appeals to me so much. A bright red plaid shirt with light jeans and black boots has the same "BAM!" factor of acid-wash, without the bad 80s flashback aftertaste.


Another look I'm loving right now is the color combination of hot pink and gray worn together. I own a cute little colorblock dress with a hot pink ruffled top and a hair-waisted gray skirt, but a more casual example of this combo saw in the newest Victoria's Secret catalog completely blew me away, but realistically and stylistically. A long, hot pink hoodie or sweater worn over gray leggings with Uggs is the perfect relaxed fall outfit. I'm a college student-- I strive for the least amount of fuss necessary. This is right up my alley, and it looks cute while still remaining supremely comfortable. It makes you looks like the girl who rolled out of bed, ran a hand through your hair, out this on, and waltzed out the door. Which you did. Men love this "relaxed chick" idea. But please, if you're going to rock a laid-back look like this, do do more than rolling out of bed and pulling it on. Doing your hair and wearing some more attention-grabbing makeup than normal can turn an outfit like this into something downright striking.

Layering, especially in climates like Vermont in the fall, is essential. Pairing relaxed boyfriend jeans with one of your short summer dresses and an oversized or long cardigan or sweater and flats transitions you from warm climates (buses, cars, restaurants, your apartment,) to cooler climates (outdoors, classrooms, movie theaters, your boyfriend's apartment).

Right now, I'm finding myself wearing more and more men's-wear inspired pieces. During the Current's Layout Weekend, it was actually one of the shirts I bought for Perfect but haven't had a chance to give him yet. (Plus, I'm enjoying them.) I wanted to feel comfy and warm, and hey, now it will even smell like me when he gets it. Win/win. A few days later, it was one of the small V-neck men's sweaters I bought on sale at Old Navy, dark skinny jeans, and metallic gold ballet flats. Yesterday, it was a striped button-down shirt belted at my hips that looked like I was wearing one of my (nonexistent) boyfriend's dress shirt, but in reality, it was just a long button-up. Men love seeing you in their clothing. Wearing clothing that gives the illusion that you're already wearing a man's clothing makes other men wonder what their clothing would look like on you. Cute. It's literally dressing to flirt.

I call these sandals the "jewelry for my feet." They are so cute, so sweet, and so adorable that they instantly make me smile and put me in a good mood every time I look down at them. Plus, the leather is so soft it doesn't feel like you're wearing straps, the tassels are fun to play with when I get bored and need a distraction in class that isn't texting Perfect, and I most definitely got my pair for $20 at T.J Maxx. I win.

I recently went on a massive sweater hunt, stalking the ever-illusive perfect light-weight fall/winter sweater. I found this one at Anne Taylor Loft, which was made in the exact fabric and flattering cut that I like-- I swear that this cut makes you look RIDICULOUSLY slender-- but the three-quarter sleeves weren't exactly my thing. If you're going to wear a sweater, you might as well have long sleeves, right? Push them up if you get hot. It's better than if you get cold from missing that extra four inches of fabric. Then I found these at American Eagle. I liked them because they were full-length sleeves, and I felt the stripes made them young, sporty, and flirty. But they were cotton. Surprisingly, cotton is not my favorite. It sticks and stretches and doesn't breathe well and...well, I'll end up getting the purple and blue striped ones, but only because the colors look really good on me. But then...then I went to Pac Sun, and found Nirvana. In clothing, that is, not the grunge band sans infamous lead singer. These sweaters are made of the same light-stitch fabric as the Anne Taylor ones, but in full-length! And they're striped! It's like ATL and AE had beautiful sweater babies! I was so pleased with life.

As far as relaxed, lazy weekend t-shirts go, I like the message in this one. It's cute, it's sweet, it's flirty. However, why anyone would wear this shirt, even if it applies, is faaar beyond the scope of my understanding.

Dressing for an occasion excites me like to other. Halloween is coming up-- dress for the occasion! During the day, this may be black-and-orange themed, or something whimsical and slightly costume-y if you can get away with it at work or school. At night-- dress the fuck up! Go for a stroll around the neighborhood in costume even if you're too "old" to still get candy when trick-or-treating. I'm sure, if you're in the twenty-something crowd that I am, especially in a college town, some of your friends or local nightlife establishments will have bitchin' themed parties. Get back in touch with your childish side. Buy candy. Get lost in the magic of the holiday. And if dressing up is not your cup of tea-- good news for you-- basic black looks good on everyone and it's right in tune with this holiday.

I'm starting to think about taking Cait down to surprise Perfect for his birthday in December, and asking John, Knight in Shining Honda Armor, to also meet us at Perfect's college, converging on him from all friendly sides. I recently bought this dress, and and thinking that this may be, (at least for now,) the outfit I'd wear to surprise him.

Then again, I just got this top, too, which I'm a big fan of. I'm not used to wearing drapey shirts, but I like it. And that's Miss Alli with me, looking all hot.

We were off for our first Kitchen Bitches 2.0 restaurant review, so look for that here soon! In the meantime, ciao, bellas, and remember-- be irreplaceable!

XOXO

S.O.S-- Save Our Style

Dear Reader:

I need your help more than ever before. This is an impassioned plea-- please, help me. Help me not really screw up this whole thing I have going on by wearing the wrong thing. Dig into your fashion sense reserves and tell me: if I see Perfect tomorrow for the first time since the first week of July the day at the Mills when everything was wonky in person, what do I wear?

Here are the choices and my thinking behind them:

In one corner, I have a short and form-fitting teal cotton t-shirt dress that's made a little more casual by its pockets. I cinch it at the waist with a braided gold belt to give me visible kickin' curves. I finish it off with a pair of purple leather gladiator-inspired thong sandals, a nice contrast with the teal that says, "hey, I'm comfy but cute." (Bending in this outfit is ill-advised. It's got a relatively modest scoop-neck and adorable cap sleeves, though, so it balances the legs and skin there shown.)

I like to think that this is the outfit that would make Perfect kick himself for letting me go. The hemline is short enough to show my super-recently tanned and toned legs from all the beaching and running I've been doing, and it hugs my ass, which he knows quite well. I figure if I can get thoughts and pulse racing, it probably wouldn't hurt my cause.

In the other corner, the opponent is a pair of super-short striped navy shorts (again, showing off the legs), the same purple glads, and a tight black V-neck t-shirt with a gold stylized guitar detail on it. And I'd totally be wearing a push-up bra, yes. The dark colors show off my tan well, and it's a more laid-back outfit that basically says, "hey, I wasn't really planning on seeing you, but I still manage to look good."

Seeing as one of Perfect's best and oldest girl friends will be with him, and she's the five-foot-nine, size 2 exotic model-y looking type who looks great and all-American classic in trademark cut-offs and a tank, I was thinking I'll be dressing as much for her impression of me as I will be for Perfect's. I don't want her to think I'm trying too hard, but I do want her to tell him I'm cute as they drive back home. So do I try to dress more her style with the t and shorts, or do I go for the knock-out and wear the dress?

As for hair, I'm running a few small braids around my hair-line and pinning them back, boho-style, leaving the rest of it casually tousled. Make-up I'm leaving basic: foundation, hint of blush, mascara, and lip balm. I've got a great golden glow going on from the beach-- I figure "fresh" is the way to go.

Please, any opinions, tips, hints, or advice would be greatly appreciated with this. I know that if I do get to see him while he's in town tomorrow, this meeting could make or break the storyline of Perfect and I.

Thanks, darlings--
XOXO