Isn't It Ironic, Don'tcha Think?

So I've been watching Ugly Betty, Season 1 on DVD (I didn't get hooked on it until the second season) and recently saw an episode where there was controversy because Mode, the magazine where Betty works, wanted to slim down photos of an actress. In real life, it is doubtful that the actress would be there in the room as the editors are discussing what "cuts" to make, but on the show it makes for good drama. The actress didn't feel so great about this, but the editors assured her that there were taking her great look and making even better.

If art is not reflecting reality as it really is, then it tends to be prescient...so I couldn't believe that just today the editor of Self magazine (a publication that in essence is supposedly encouraging its female readers to believe in themselves) were quoted saying that they altered Kelly Clarkson's image to make her look her 'personal best' (which sounds A LOT like what the Mode Editors said on Ugly Betty) and that magazine covers aren't supposed to look real since they are inspirational/aspirational (something else that was said on the show).

They'd like you to think that that doctor photos to give you something to aim for, when really the photos are doctored so that you'll want to buy more products--either because you are "inspired" or because you feel lousy and hope that more stuff can improve your look.

Tutu Much

Without knowing that I would, I ended up passing through downtown DC just as a Beyonce concert was letting out. If you don't know, Ms. Sasha Fierce (Beyonce's alter ego) is known for her fierce costumes and her fans follow suit. I saw lots of interesting outfits, but nothing tops the tutu.

I saw a woman at the train station who had on a tank top and a teeny tiny rainbow-colored tutu, drawers and nothin' else. She was working it though. Strutting proudly, as though it was no big deal to be almost walking around just wearing underwear. A fellow passenger on the escalator and I exchanged looks at dismay. It was like a car wreck--you want to look away, but you can't.

(Then I thought about how if she were on the beach, wearing what amounts to underwear is no big deal. So it is allowed in our society, but there is a time and a place for everything...and I'm not used to seeing people on Metro in their underwear.)

After we all exited the escalator, she ran into people she knew who said, "Girl, what are you wearing?!"

A defiant "You see it don't you?" was all she said before she started talking about the concert.

Don't Sleep

Riding up the escalator on day last week, I saw that the teenage boy in front of me had a quote imprinted (stitched?) near the bottom of the leg of his jeans:

He who stands, lives. He who sleeps, dies.

Sunny Delight

This post is brought to you by the color yellow and the numbers 2,0,0, and 9.

And yes, I know Sunny Delight (the drink) isn't really yellow, but that is beside the point.

Fashion forecasters have deemed yellow to be the next "it" color for 2009. I find this confusing because wasn't yellow, this year's color to have? I have had the yellow leather shoes pictured above for years, but when I noticed that yellow was really in this past year, I wore them more often.

But now I have learned that it was actually a specific shade of blue that was in this past year. This is good because I wear a lot of blue, although I can't say that I actually wore the correct shade.

I cannot even pretend to understand the complicated mechanisms of fashion forecasting. There are only so many colors, so something that you're wearing will be in the rotation at some point.

Yellow has been given this honor because we all need cheering up. So when the economy is down, we need to brighten up with happy colors like yellow. I'm certain no one wants to spend next year in the red. Might not be bad to be in the black though.

A Clothes Encounter—Of the Rude Kind

In which Inotherwordz exchanges harsh words and gets kicked out

Consignment shops are doing well these days. I’ve always been on to frequent these places, but I gather that lately, they’ve seen new customers who had considered them to be an option before.

I called one such shop, Clothes Encounters of A Second Kind, to ask if I could bring clothes in for consignment. I was told that they were getting full, but that I was free to come by any time. Granted, a busy Saturday morning is not the best time to go anywhere, but anytime means any time. So I didn’t expect to be greeted so rudely and eventually kicked out of.

As soon as I walked in the proprietress, greeted me with these words, “Oh, God, not another one.” To give this a generous context, I will say that she meant that I was yet another person coming in with clothes for consignment. I was instructed to go over to the side and wait while she schmoozed with people who indentified themselves as “good customers.” Fair enough. There were people there ahead of me. Yet, my back was already up because as they say, the bulk of communication is non-verbal. In word, gesture and tone she communicated that she did not want me there.

So here is the lesson: if you are not wanted and are in a position to leave, do so. Why stick around for more abuse? But I am stubborn, so I stayed and stewed, thinking that I would tell her that I understood she was busy and frazzled, but she might want to be kinder to customers.

When she was ready to attend me, she asked if I’d been there before and I hadn’t. I dutifully provided her with my basic information. Again, she mentioned just how very full the shop was getting. I was given to option to have clothes donated if they didn’t sell, and I took this option, so I was essentially saying goodbye to those clothes forever.

I gave her a phone number and when she asked for alternates, I said I had none. In modern life, all of our information is spread everywhere, so it seems pointless to even try to contain it, but I do. I get tired of having to give every story, office or whatever I enter every single piece of identifying information there is. One working phone number should suffice.

“If you move, we will have no way of contacting you.” Sure, life is full of surprises, but the clothes stay on consignment for, I think, 60 days and I had no plans to move. While I’m sure a consignment shop gets stuck with a lot of clothes, the fact that I’d chosen the donation option meant that if mine didn’t sell, they were free to give them the heave-ho.

“Well, I’ll try not to move then,” I said with a smile. This was a very lame attempt at humor on my part. Instead of breaking the tension, all hell broke loose. She had been looking for a way to get rid of me and she’d apparently found it.

“Do you really want to consign here?” she asked angrily. The truth is she didn’t want me to be there, but she was going to flip her disdain and make it my fault.

“Yes,” I said. “I don’t understand why you were so rude…”

“Get out,” she said.

The ensuing conversation got heated. I attempted to complete my statement and she told me no, she would not listen to me and to get out. It got ugly and as I said, all of this took place on a busy Saturday morning. Since Clothes Encounters of A Second Kind is at 202 7th Street SE, it is right near Eastern Market, and there were plenty of customers there to witness this exchange. Not that having witnesses around ever makes people reconsider their behavior.

I will admit that there were some rather unkind thoughts running through my head after this, but one really doesn’t have to wish misfortune on some people. Doing well is more than even to do them in.

I Wanted a Cut and Color and All I Got Was This Lousy Story

This fifth time is the charm (or so I hope). Yes, I know that the saying really only refers to the third time, but since I will embark on my fifth attempt to get my hair done this week, I am banking on number 4.

When I was telling a friend about my third (or was it the fourth?) attempt she responded: It's funny how some people think the president has all the power. When it comes to black women it's the hairdressers. Truer words were never spoken.

Because I didn't want to part with my hard-earned money for lackluster service, I've had to roll out of several hairstyling establishments.

Sleeping Beauty
#1 was a salon that came recommended. I walked in and there was someone slumped over the reception desk, sleeping. After barely being acknowledged and spending 20 minutes listening to an in-depth analysis of P. Diddy's umpteenth installment of Making the Band, I left. When I went to introduce myself to my would-be stylist to tell her I was leaving she said, "You can't wait?"

Got the Message?
#2 was a salon that I didn't actually visit. I spent a week or so just trying to get the required initial consultation scheduled. I called and then had to wait for someone to call me back to get my info so they could leave a message for a stylist who would call me to schedule my this mandatory consultation. After consulting with them, I would then be given the privilege of making an actual appointment to get my hair done. The stylist took days to call me back, and since I wasn't home, left me a message. When I called her back and left her a message, she didn't return my call. When I called the salon, they said I should call the DC location. "But I did call the DC number," I countered. "Oh, well they have routed their calls here to Silver Spring."

I Can't Stand the Rain
#3 was a salon I'd been to before. The failure of this attempt was my fault. If I'd given myself enough driving time to make allowance for the fact that no one wants to drive above 30 mph when it rains in DC, I might have made it to my appointment. The extra 20 minutes I'd added wasn't enough to offset the rain and the wrong turn I made. When I called from the road, they said I might very far away and that I might was well not show up.

Color Me Gone
#4 was the salon where the stylist greeted me at the door by saying that her shop had recently been robbed. She handed me a box and told me to go to the beauty supply store next door to pick up hair color made by the same brand as the box she'd given me. It is common for people to buy bring hair with them for braids and weaves, but this was unusual. When we'd discussed the appointment over the phone, the stylist failed to mention that hair color was an a la carte item.

And so, my hair remains uncut and uncolored. For now...

This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land

It is always amazing to me how I can find an entirely different world when I travel just a few hours away from the metropolis I call home. I am a city girl, so anything that is not quite a city has a limited attraction. Still, it is good to be reminded that although everyone does not live as city-dwellers do, we all have plenty in common.

On my way to Shenandoah National Park to do research for a Washington Post story, I saw a hand-scrawled sign that read: NRA Supporter for Obama. The person who made that sign had a point to make. Later I saw one that declared Virginia to be McCain Country.

More and more I see people sporting all kinds of variations of the mohawk. But I didn't expect to see any mohawks once I got a little deep into Virgina. Sure enough, a man at a gas station had a mohawk that was accompanied by a rat tail in the back.

The Mohawk/Rat Tail man came into a convenience store as I was paying for my (cheap!) gas to announce/ask about getting some gas on store credit. He said he needed to gas for two hours because he was going to get some money and that he'd be back. This transaction (or lack therof) was surprising to me. I didn't think people still did things like that. But with the way things are going, everyone may be bartering and borrowing a lot more.

Recently, I was allowed to get items from a store on credit, so I can't say that it doesn't happen in big cities. However, it is a phenomenon I associate more with small town living.

Benched
The other day two older "gentleman" drove me straight into the arms of Commerce.

I was sitting on a bench, reading when "gentleman" #1 approached. (Ironically, the book was a coming-of-age story where the main character gets harassed by an old man. Her mother ends up shooting him, but that is another story.)

He was unhappy that I didn't greet him warmly. He told me I had an attitude (which is a common insult that a man will throw at a woman whenever she is not elated to see him or when she does not offer to sit on his lap). I told him to have a nice day and found another bench.

Sometimes when I sit outside I find that after swatting way one pest, another will immediately follow. But this does not usually happen with pests of the human variety.

I wasn't sitting on my new bench long, when "gentleman" #2 came by. Unlike, "gentleman" #1, #2 was not sober. His zig-zagging flight and slurred speech caused me to flee once again. But I wised up and did not find another bench.

I followed my own unsteady course into a clothing store, where lo and behold, I found what I had long been looking for: a pair of well-fitting, dark jeans at an amazing price. So thank you horrid and annoying old men for sending me on my way to a 70% off rack and $4.99 jeans. All's well that ends well, as they say.

It's cool and it's hot

It's funny the things that just pop into my head...

I profile restaurants for a local newspaper and I was trying to think of some way to describe something I'd eaten recently. For some reason the McD.L.T. came to mind. Don't ask me why. I barely remember that it existed. There are certainly more memorable sandwiches, but the thought of it hovered above me like a thought bubble in a cartoon.

So you know I had to Google it and I found this gem-a commercial starring someone who would become famous for his role in a sitcom about nothing.

Some of the hairstyles and clothes are coming back in altered forms.

Singing about food and dancing in the streets never goes out of style.

Let's see you make an outfit outta this

I went to a screening of "RENT" last night. Not only did I see the movie for free, but I walked out with a couple of freebies as well. However, I will report that I did not get the long-sleeved t-shirt or the knit hat that had a brim, which where the most coveted items.

What is it about freebies that sends people into a frenzy?

I, for instance, did not make any effort to get the movie poster because if it survived the ride home, it was destined to become yet another dust-collector. More often that not, you end up with something that just sits around, but you are reluctant to get rid of it because you got at no cost. Somehow it has more value because you did not actually pay for it. I am sure some economist has some theory to explain this. Most of us are also proud of the bargains we get, whether they are actual bargains or not. There is a psychological boost that accompanies a great bargain. Or what we perceive to be a great bargain. Nobody loves free stuff more than I do, but even I have become more discriminating (well, sometimes).

So having said that I can tell you what I did get. The promotional people were tossing packets in the air and I reached out for one, not even knowing what all this exertion was for. I got fingerless gloves with the word "RENT" on the knuckles. I have limited use for fingerless gloves, so you'd think I would be finished trying to get free stuff. But, oh no. Moments after pondering what exactly I'd do with fingerless gloves ("They're for playing piano," my friend said.), I reached for the next gift being tossed into the air. Legwarmers. (I love the 80s.) Or perhaps armwarmers. They came attached as a set, but only one of them is embossed with the word "RENT".

Fingerless gloves and legwarmers...hey, winter is approaching.