I am in no way a style maven.
Fashion means little to me. My MIL does my best shopping. I live in LL Bean or Land's End. I accesorize sparingly. I do not have an up-to-date haircut; as a matter of fact, I leave the house with my hair wet most mornings and let it do what it will. I do not own high heels, or shoes that have pointy toes or flowers on them. There are no pants in my closet that do not reach my waist. I am hopeless.
I do know that there are these things called "trends," and that fashion plays a large part in some people's lives. I have seen the low-rise jeans and the crop shirts (often accompanied by the muffin-top), I know that "tight" is the new black and that high heels and jeans still (inexplicably) is still an acceptale look.
I accept that these are things that have passed me by, but do not poo-poo other people's right to wear them.
Which is why I was so excited to see who I think was Bobby Trendy walk into my building this morning!
Yes! THAT Bobby! Don't know him? He's the guy (a term used very loosely, as I suspect he'd want me to) who decorated for Anna Nicole when she was on the teevee and all big and bloated and Xanax-ed out and she thought his stuff was "luxe"! The queen of fabulous, the reincarnation of Liberace, Bobby Trendy!
He drove up in a big ol' American land yacht of some sort, a lovely champagne color. The wheels were shiny and the hubcaps were chrome-y, and when he opened the door and stepped out the fabulous quotient of this part of the state increased exactly one log-fold. Spiky black hair, crisp while shirt, cream-colored lined linen jacket with the collar AND lapel popped, sharply pressed cuffed navy trousers and wickedly shiny black loafers (just a tiny heel) bedecked his trim Asian person....it had to be him!
The way he moved with military presicion to pop open the trunk of the aformentioned land yacht to retrieve his brieface, the authoritative way he pressed the trunk closed, the brisk flick of the wrist as he remotely locked the car (with a "click" of the lock and a honk of the horn that signaled the 100% completion of the task), the whole package was Bobby!
The clincher? The briefcase was leather, finely tooled, and a brilliant lime green.
Fabulous? You KNOW it!
I just wonder what he's doing HERE. Will our offices be bedazzled tomorrow? Will the "approved work attire" now include the donning of feather boas? Will glitter eyeshadow be acceptable for both men AND women? Will we all have lovely cushy couches with contrasting leopard-print throw pillows to recline on while taking our telecons?
One can only hope.....
Note from the author - I LOVE Bobby Trendy. I think he's awesome in a completely over-the-top way, and in small doses. If the guy I saw this morning WASN'T him, then I salute whoever it was who totally made my morning.
Now for the peepy goodness promised in the title.
I have but one question - why? Why, when you can BUY them for a buck a dozen at the CVS and eat them on the way home, because everyone KNOWS as soon as they touch the air they start to go stale?
But hey - if your inner Martha calls you to do these things, now at least you know how. In truth, I have no room to scoff, just this weekend I made soap from old cooking grease......
I did. And it worked. And was very cool. I got to play with lye. Good times.