Someone had a case of the Mondays

I am not a morning person. When my alarm clock goes off it induces a state of pouting, whining and depression akin to a five year-old's failed attempts to get candy. I snuggle deeper into my blankets, attempting in vain to pretend I have hours available for blissful slumber. I engage in luxuriant fantasies of having the kind of life where a staff of nannies is on hand to wake my kids, get them dressed and fed, and drive them to school. Like I am certain my arch nemesis, Gywneth Paltrow employs (read my rant against her here.)

Monday mornings are especially difficult. On Monday mornings, accomplishing my usual tasks feels like swimming through cement. And something always, always goes wrong. Monday mornings are when I discover we're out of coffee and that my daughter neglected to do her homework over the weekend. Mondays are learning it's 21 degrees out and forgetting to warm up the truck (leading my youngest son to declare that his bottom has turned into a butt-sicle.) Mondays are misplaced car keys and leaving the house without mascara and lipstick and sitting in an hour of traffic and not being able to find even one decent song on the radio. Mondays also involve stifling urges to bitch-slap that annoyingly chipper barista at Starbucks. I don't care if it's her job to be friendly towards customers, or that she's ingested enough caffeine to fuel the Space Shuttle. NO ONE DESERVES TO BE THAT HAPPY FIRST THING IN THE MORNING, IT GOES AGAINST NATURE. Mondays are going to the supermarket and forgetting to buy the most important thing on my list, like toilet paper. And coffee. And, worst of all, Mondays are always the days I bump into someone I haven't seen in three years and, of course, I look like crap.

So, on this Monday, I decided to dress simply. This vibrant red sweater dress is uncomplicated, comfortable and cheery. I love the quilting at the neckline, and it coordinates nicely with my freshly-colored red hair. (I also have the same sweater dress in cream - see it here.) Wearing this red dress makes me feel good, even without lipstick, coffee, and a warm butt.

Free People sweater dress; Michael Stars long-sleeves tee; Joe's Jeans jeggings; Frye boots; Via Spiga bag; Lucky Brand earrings

The hippie-hippie shake

My parents were pseudo-hippies to the extreme. They did not head for San Fransisco following the Grateful Dead. They didn't live in a commune or grow their own vegetables. Nor did they construct homemade signs protesting the Vietnam War, nuclear development, or civil rights. However, they were dressed appropriately for such activities. I am certain they believed their clothes demonstrated their inclusion into the counter-culture. A far as they were concerned, they were radicals. They were bohemians. Along with their generation, they left the mainstream behind and bravely moved forward into the world of dirty hair and folk music.

My mother ironed her locks straight, parted them in the middle, and grew them down to her waist. Early photos of her document the hippie style that dominated the 1960's - bell bottom jeans, clogs, love beads and peasant blouses. She also owned a leather fringed vest, wildly printed minidresses and Native American jewelry. She practiced yoga, took pottery classes and wore little to no makeup. My dad sported an impressive Jew-fro, the afro of the whitest white people populating the planet, and a bushy mustache. His clothes were purchased at the army-navy surplus store. His claims to glory were the road trip he took around the country in his VW minivan, and his trip to Woodstock, where he hitchhiked and slept in the mud.

My parents played records by Simon and Garfunkel, Carol King, Joan Baez and The Byrds. Macrame plant holders swayed in our kitchen, and my father grew pot in our basement. I was raised on homemade baby food, and some of my earliest memories include picnics under willow trees on worn tapestry blankets with my parent's hippie friends.

Eventually, my mom and dad abandoned their dirty clothes and counterculture ways. My dad began to wear neckties and suits. My mom cut her hair and started listening to Blondie. They bought a co-op in a deeply suburban neighborhood, sold their VW minivan,  and saw their hippie friends less and less.

I think my personal style is a blend of bohemian and conservative elements. I love my flared-leg pants, ethnic jewelry and concert tees. But my closet also contains button-down shirts, tailored blazers and ultra skinny jeans. Today's outfit is a perfect representation.

What fashion era do you feel best represents you? Who are your fashion influences?

Free People crochet tunic; Joe's Jeans jeggings; Target long-sleeved white tee; Frye boots; Plato's Closet leather bracelet.

The siren call of the sweater dress

This is the outfit that almost wasn't.

Four years ago, after dropping the boys off at preschool, I engaged in my favorite weekday activity: wandering through the aisles at Marshall's or TJ Maxx looking for deals. These stores have always been among my favorite places to shop. They offer substantially low prices on this season's clothes, and their shoe departments cannot be beat. I also adore the fact that I never know what I'm going to find. I might unearth a couture Ralph Lauren wool blazer, or Kate Spade boots, or a Marc Jacobs clutch, or a pair of Seven For All Mankind jeans. And, most of all, I love the shock I see when I reveal the source of my designer items. I really believe there is absolutly no reason to pay full retail price for anything at all, ever, thanks to TJ's and Marshall's.


So there I was, trolling the sale rack, when I stumbled upon a little flecked green sweater dress. Hell-o!, it whispered. Check out my pretty Faire Isle design, my dainty leather tie, my flattering just-above-the-knee length. Wouldn't I look fantastic with leggings or skinny jeans and boots? Imagine how warm I'd keep you. Winter arrives in a week, after all. Notice my label - I'm made by one of your favorite brands. And my price - $38, down from $129! I was made for you! It beckoned. It tempted. It seduced.


The sweater dress and I considered one another. Truthfully, I had never worn a sweater dress before. Winter was quickly approaching. And I was sick and tired of my cable knit cardigans. Okay, sweater dress, I decided. I'll give you a try.


I took it home. Hung it in my closet. Where it languished, up until today.


So what happened? Well, truthfully, I didn't think I had the right body-type for a sweater dress. While it was gorgeous on the hanger, once it left the store I concluded that it required a tall, slim, super-model type. A gazelle in knee-high boots. At five feet four inches, I'd look a fool. It would accentuate my short legs, my petite torso, my slight twin baby pooch. Despite these reservations, I couldn't let the sweater dress go. So I hung onto it for four years, checking on it every now and then, waves of regret washing over me.


This morning dawned chilly and damp. I opened my closet, and the sweater dress called to me. This time, I put it on. And I felt fantastic.

Free People sweater dress; Gap long-sleeved tee; J Crew sweater tights; Target knee socks; Frye boots; Plato's Closet leather bracelet; vintage Coach satchel; vintage thrifted fur cape.