Boulder and the Beautiful

• RIP green suede boots that were murdered by the rain. #
• Be friends with Women’s Mag on Twitter! https://twitter.com/womensmag #
• Welcome to my French phase. I will be making all fashion decisions based on what I think looks “French” until further notice. #
• I’ve received worse: http://www.dontevenreply.com/ #

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What a unique idea for buttons.

www.modcloth.com
Curves Ahead dress, $137.99

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www.modcloth.com
I like any store that uses the word “frock.”
This site has literally some of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen. I can barely narrow it down.

Midnight in the garden dress, $74.99

Anna Karenina dress, $64.99

Buckingham Palace dress, $69.99

Tiny Dancer’s Dress,  $64.99

Mum’s the Word dress, $129.99

It’s almost awkward how many of these dresses I am completely entranced by. I don’t think I have ever before seen a Web site where I like every single thing.

I will leave you with these shoes, the Unicorn Princess heels, $119.99. I adore them, and not just because they are called Unicorn Princess. OK, maybe because of that.

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It always makes me happy when I start liking something, and then discover it is “hip.” This is a rare occurrence that should be celebrated.
A few months ago, I began thinking about jumpsuits. I don’t know why; society must have planted some subliminal seed in the fashion lobe of my medulla.
Then today, I received an e-mail from Someone Who Knows Things that proclaimed jumpsuits are in. All the celebs are doing it, so why aren’t you? (Rhetorical.)
Here are some of my favorite suits to jump in.

Guess denim jumpsuit, aka the Canadian Hooker Tuxedo:

Despite my sarcastic nickname for this, I seriously do like it.

Here is another one of Guess’s jumpsuit concoctions:

OK, so maybe those are a little too much for Boulder.
Here is a more conservative way to wear something very similar to adult footie pajamas, without the feet, in public.

This is from Victoria’s Secret, $55.

Unfortunately, a poll at Fabsugar.com asked readers whether they hated or loved the jumpsuit look. The majority said hate. Only 38 percent (including me) said love it. The rest of the reader’s computers froze in protest.

Not all suits o’ jump are created equal. Here is a Victoria’s Secret version that makes my eyes water.

If a Victoria’s Secret model — indisputably the sexiest women on the planet — cannot look hot in it, it should be burned.
I think the key to a cute jumpsuit is:
* Bell bottoms
* Strapless or thin straps. No sleeves.
* No elastic ankles.
* Avoid patterns at all costs, unless you want to look like you are wearing a baby romper.

And just for funsies, on the topic of jumpsuits:
www.myjumpsuit.com
Your one-stop shop for male jumpsuits.

Sunglasses NOT included but highly recommended.

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I just wanted everyone to know the truth about this so-called fashion columnist who has been offering style advice to the greater Denver area for six years. She is a fraud! Here is the proof.

From my Africa journal last week:

“Then I broke my glasses. I tried for an hour to tape them back together with black masking tape that I brought. But the Deet must have destroyed my coordination because I couldn’t do it. And then Reba tried, and taped the arm on upside down. At that time, I began cry-laughing quite hysterically as I realized how badly I needed Man. I solicited help from the closest Man, my dad, who tried to burn the arm on with his lighter; twisted paper clips; and tried to use staples in ways I don’t think staples have even been intended. He ended up securing the arm with duct tape — OF COURSE — and a chunk of WOOD that he sliced off the bed frame. I look like Poindexter. No, I make Poindexter look hot.”

• Today I tried to do fancy eyeliner and it ended up looking like I got in a wrestling match with someone clutching a black marker. #
• Who cares that Colorado rains every day now if you can use something this cute:
  http://bit.ly/15hidv via @addthis #

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Link: http://www.amazon.com/The-Mountain-Three-Wolf-T-Shirt/dp/B000NZW3KM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=apparel&qid=1244155510&sr=8-1

From the review:

Click on the link above. There are more reviews. So many. So good.

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• What a great day to wear a skirt with parrots on it. #
• Well, I am doing my interviews via Facebook chat today. I lost my voice completely. #

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I did not go to prom for my 30th birthday.

By luck, or probably fate, my May birthday coincides with the biggest dress-up day of the year for high schoolers.

So logically — and partially out of protest for no such similar day for “adults” — I have made a tradition of sneaking into various proms and crashing them. Crashing, in this sense, means dancing (I know, who dances at prom?) and not standing around acting self-conscious. I’ve always been a rebel.

We would arrive late and simply walk in, wearing oversized sunglasses and way too much lipstick. Miraculously, we never got caught, kicked out or arrested. Even after the smile lines around my eyes deepened. Even after I unapologetically announced my plans, year after year, in the newspaper. I’d like to think it’s because I’m so youthful and spry. But more likely, no one spoke up because they were scared.

That’s what kept me home this year. It’s totally normal to sneak into prom at age 29. But age 30? Ew. That’s. Just. Creepy.

Well, the beer kept me at home, too. (Like one and a half beers; I left my liver in San Francisco.) Which was just as well, because the real party occurred in my closet. According to the photos and not my memory whatsoever, my friends and I changed outfits every three to five minutes.

Then we brought prom home.

It was so melancholy. I pulled out my old prom dresses — all 14 of them, including the four from my uncrashed proms — and dressed my friends in them. Some fit. Some ripped. Some looked more like bathing suits.

Then, we brought the boom box to the busy street outside my house and did a fashion show. It was like everything not to wear all wrapped up on one stage — er, sidewalk. The worst fashion trends, from 1995 to 2008: poufy shoulders, heart-shaped necklines, itchy sequin straps, multi-colored velvet, lace cut-outs. The mistakes seemed to recycle every few years, blurring the decades, illuminating the hilarity of society and most certainly terrifying my neighbors.

Then, the fashion show turned into an impromptu parade. Which, by luck or probably fate, led us to the karaoke bar down the street. Which is where I saw Them.

It was heavenly: formal gowns, PBR, an open microphone, a carnival-style popcorn machine on wheels, more formal gowns — what? More gowns? The entire room was buzzing with women wearing prom dresses. Women, not girls. Old crazy ladies. Just like me.

And, unlike prom, they were dancing. On tables.

It was a bachelorette party, and for the first time probably ever, my friends and I fit right in. A birthday reminder that if you stay true to your own quirkiness, and you don’t chase the past, and you’re willing to keep marching forward (even if it is a ridiculous dress-up parade), you will eventually end up exactly where you’re meant to be.

Which brings us to my e-mail this morning.

Thin Man Tavern, 2015 E. 17th Ave. in Denver. May 30, starting at 9 p.m. Prom Night 2: The Totally Awesome Sequel, featuring prom photos and drink specials for grown ups.

I’ll be there. Arriving late, wearing oversized sunnies. Ready to crash.

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I was not 10 steps into the Broomfield 24 Hour Fitness when I pivoted and walked back out. I didn’t even make it to the locker room.
There was no way I was sweating here, in sweatpants and an old tank top.
This was not a gym. This was a nightclub.
As if the booming hip-hop music wasn’t enough (was that a fog machine in the corner?), the girls seemed to be wearing the same outfits that they would wear to the club, except with clean, pink sneakers instead of stilettos.
Well, wait. I think a few ladies going 1.2 mph on the elliptical might have been wearing wedges.
This fitness center was a-swarm with “gym bees.”
The gym bee species, a direct descendant of the barfly, joins a gym as an extension of her Match.com profile, and always announces it on her Facebook status update: “Going to go work out! Xoxo!”
Because the gym bee places her iPhone on her treadmill while she stands there reading Cosmo and not exerting whatsoever, she can update her status in live time: “Headed to the weights! Xoxo!”
This is especially useful if a male gym bee across the room has his iPhone perched near the mirror, because, well, what if amid posing and flexing, he lost track of the hottie on the treadmill?
Problem solved. Xoxo!
As a fashion columnist, I’m the first to give a thumb’s up to pride and cleanliness. I like designer clothes and hoop earrings and fishnets and fur.
Just not on the bench press.
The she-bee spends more time picking out her perfectly coordinated brand-name top, bottoms and matching shoes than she does getting her heart rate up.
And the he-bee sports (if you can even use that verb in this context) hair gel, one or more necklaces and an Affliction shirt on top of an Ed Hardy shirt on top of an Affliction shirt on top of an Ed Hardy tattoo covering up an Affliction tattoo. And jeans.
What happened to Colorado’s true athletes? And how do these posers (literally) stay so fit, when we all see them not working out? Do they chase their evening lines of coke with 1,000 push-ups?
In search of these secrets — as well as a little sports cred — I consulted Boulder’s Kevin Wendling.
Wendling, 30, a Fairview High and University of Colorado grad, is an expert on sports attire for two reasons.
First, he is a freelance producer for TV sportscasts, from football to golf to speed skating to car racing. In his words: “I see Spandex being worn to its perfection, in all levels of sport.”
Second, he was the dude who wore the oversized bunny head, tights and a fannypack to the Bolder Boulder this week.

I know, mega cred. The only catch: On this particular day, both Wendling and I had lost our voices — completely.
So we conducted the interview via modern day note-passing: Facebook instant messaging. Note: Neither of us was on a treadmill.

Here’s how it went down:

Kevin: (Obligatory small talk) How are things at the Cam today? Are you writing about our voices eloping?
Aimee: Yes. And I wanted to write about workout clothes: dressing designer d-bag to go to the gym.
K: Maybe I should change then? How did you know what I was wearing?
A: No, you’re wearing a bunny head, right?
K: I work out in any number of costumes. Or mustaches.
A: That is why I love the Bolder Boulder. People loosen up and have fun with exercise; they don’t try to make a fashion point. So what is the story of the bunny head?
K: I wish there was a tale. I think I just go for the funniest outfits possible.
A: Have you dressed up every year?
K: Second year. But I dress up a lot for events, as often as possible. Last year I was a gladiator.
A: Where did you get the bunny head?
K: The Ritz. I rented that bad boy. A bunny was the most outstanding costume there. The rest of the outfit was American Apparel: fanny pack, leg warmers, spandex, wristbands, gloves.
A: Outstanding indeed. Was it also hot?
K: Ummm.
A: Not hott with two t’s. Like temperature-wise.
K: I don’t remember, really. I was fed a lot of cocktails during the six miles. I would say we stopped 100 times for pictures.
A: Did you train for the race?
K: To walk? No. And maybe that is why my ankle is mysteriously sprained and my big toes are black and blue.
A: Did you find that sweatbands improved your fitness capacity?
K: Absolutely, except it added to my wind resistence.
A: OK, so tell me: Why the tie? And what did you store in your fannypack?
K: Matched the leg warmers. The fannypack was full of adult beverages.
A: My friend Brittany recently met a guy at a club who was wearing a fannypack, and she asked him “What’s in the pack?” And he said, “Fruit Roll-Ups.” Apparently his friends were like, “Dude, stop wearing your fannypack to da clubs, you’re ruining our game,” but then he was the only one of them picking up girls. So then it was like, “Who’s cool now, haters?”
K: That. Is. Awesome.
A: So back to business. Do you work out?
K: Ew, that was nasty. Sounds like a cheesy pick-up line.
A: Except I am looking at a picture of a dude wearing a bunny head, so my emotions are very complex.

K: I do work out, but not like a meathead.
A: What do you wear to work out in?
K: You’d think I’d wear Spandex, but I don’t. I would love me to be in Spandex 24/7.
A: Do you like it when guys flex in the mirror excessively?
K: I don’t like it, unless it’s me. Which it usually is. Thats 60 percent of my workout, I’d say.
A: What do the pros wear to work out? Mandex? Do they wear necklaces and hair gel?
K: Some do, certainly. Big earrings on some.
A: Is that how they get so strong? By hooking weights into their lobes?
K: Lol.
A: You lolled. How did “lol” even become a word? What’s wrong with the good old-fashioned “Heh?”
K: I might start a clothing company called Lol.
A: An athletic clothing company, that makes clothes that double up for working out and working it — on the dance floor. Your insignia: a massive bunny head. Do it.
K: Just do it.
A:  I have a feeling this is how movements are made.

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