Boulder and the Beautiful

I have been searching for weeks for my New Year’s dress. This is a very serious hunt. I finally found the perfect dress last night at Guess.

Short, sharp and sleek. And silver.

I love the Guess store at FlatIrons because it always has insane sales. Take this dress – on the Web site under “what’s new” for $69.99 (on sale from $79). I got it at the Guess store for about $20.
I also got another dress for $7 something and a gorgeous top fo $5ish.
Granted, my New Years dress makes me want to walk around saying “I am a robot,” and I might just paint my limbs silver and stand on the street to make extra cash. But that’s cool because all I need to earn is $7 more to buy another gorgeous dress.

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I got a gift certificate for a mani/pedi from Polish and had the winter chiseled off my hands and feet yesterday. This little salon in Boulder is easy to drive past, but is hand’s down (get it? ohhh, snap! get it again?) one of the best I’ve ever been to. My nails are like a form of art. Like nothing I could have ever accomplished on my own.

Here are some color trends, according to the lady who perfectly painted my nails bright red.
* Yes, red. It’s the color of the winter.
* At the beginning of the year, start looking for more dark colors again. Black is still not totally gone, but sparkle gold is. (Darn.) Brown was fall.
* Spring is the time for pink. Or crazy colors, like you can find by the check-out at Urban Outfitters: teal, orange, green. Warning: Be wary of yellow, which looks like you stubbed your toe and it is dead.
* Also, you’ve seen the little flower accent painted on a nail. But try this: Get all of your finger or toenails painted with a pattern or complimentary patterns. Pin-striped, polka-dots, checkered, zebra or leopard print. It looks surprisingly beautiful.

Also, for the record, Polish is pronounced like the stuff you put on your nails, not like the residents of Poland. Turns out.

Boulderites: Do not read this, please. I don’t like red paint.

I don’t like slaughtering innocent animals any more than the next guy (disclaimer: not the next guy president of the rifle association in East Boulder County).
But I have a policy about fur: If it was dead before I was born, I can wear it. It was already dead, so I am not responsible/condoning, and I may as well help the slaughter not be in vain. Also, every time I put on vintage fur, my policy requires me to give my dog a treat and tell her how much I love animals, including the squirrels that she tries to kill. My dog is smaller than squirrels. She does not know that.

SO. When I found this absolutely gorgeous black fur coat at an Arc thrift store for only $12, I couldn’t resist. It has just one button at the collarbone, and a big hood, making it sort of a cape with arms. It is in perfect condition. Satin lining. And a tag so old that I think this poor ____ (fill in the blank… bear?) was dead long before my grandparents were born.

I am actually not even sure it is real fur. It doesn’t stink like death, and it has different textures on the lining and main body, so maybe it is all synthetic. But the age of the tag makes me wonder if this coat was designed before Synthetic was created.

Anyhow, I love it and it is the warmest thing ever, and I am sorry, RIP Smokey.

Photos by Jonathan Castner.

I think my facial expression here is a little schmoopy, but dude, we’re talking about the hood, not my schmoop, so FOCUS, children, FOCUS.

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So my uterus hates me. I almost went to the hospital today from its shenanigans. I couldn’t stand up straight, much less write highly important news stories about fashion.
I took a nearly deadly amount of pain killers and muscle relaxers, but it didn’t help. At all. Even remotely. I drank tea, I stretched, I laid on the ground – yes, in the office. I even texted my sister for sympathy, but not even her heartfelt ”awwwww” helped.

My jeans were antagonizing me, so I went to the store and bought the first pair of sweatpants I saw. They were like 15 times the price that I would normally pay for sweats (or a car), but I did not care about anything. Plus, dang, they were cute. It was a good excuse. It was for HEALTH. I even considered using my Health Savings Account money, except I have no clue how to access it, and I’m not even exactly sure what it is.

Shortly after putting on the cute sweatpants, my cramps…… vanished.

Don’t ever, ever, ever tell me that clothes don’t serve a greater purpose.

Placebo effect? I don’t care; I can function now. And the cost of the sweats was less than an ER bill.
Now that I think about it, my head kind of hurts. I think I need new shoes.

These are similar to my cute sweatpants, which contain medicinal properties and have been used since ancient times to heal evil-hater-death uteruseseses… uteri?

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Dear Santa,
Remember when you got me this for Christmas when I was 8?

I want it again.
Urban Outfitters, $28.
I used to call it my hand muffin, but now that I’m a grown up, I know it is really a hand muffler, like the thing in your car that muffles the stuff and things.
Santa, I have been a very good girl, other than when I set that stuffed animal on fire and hung it on my neighbor’s flag pole. But you and I both know it was my house warming party, and I took that term too literally. I promise not to set my hand muffin on fire. At least not for one year.

Love and cookies,
Aimee

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We all know about Sock Gnomes. Obviously.
It’s no big deal when one sock goes missing.
But what about when one of your favorite designer suede lace-up boots goes missing? JUST ONE.
Or a strapless red dress?

Where does this stuff go? How do I lose random clothes? It’s not like I take off one boot at work and just accidentally forget it there. Not to mention the dress. I don’t think I could take that off somewhere and lose it.

No snide remarks, kids.

I am proud to announce two things:
1. That we have a winner for the ugly sweater contest!
2. That I have such a great eye for ugly that I predicted it.

You see, I bought my favorite ugly sweater at the thrift store before I decided to make a contest out of it.
I went back this weekend, and I was saddened (in more ways than one) to find that ALL of the sweaters from my poll had already been purchased.
Note: My friend Vanessa honestly liked the furry Santa pockets one and wanted me to get it for her, For The Reals. Here is our e-mail exchange:

Vern: Dude! The second one with puff balls and mitten pockets is not lame. It’s amazing! I want it so bad.
Me: I could pick it up for you to wear to the Christmas party if you want. I think it was about $1.14.
Vern: Amazing. Yes! Will you? I would owe you my life … or a similarly awesome Christmas sweater.
Me: If it is still there (HIGH PROBABILITY BECAUSE, um….), yes.

In light of that, it is a good thing the sweaters were all gone. But sad, once again, that someone else is sporting their fists in Santa’s noggin.

Anyhow, I am elated to present to you…….

And for a close-up on the buttons:

OK, now go rinse out your eyeballs with isopropal alcohol.

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I just found out my ex-boyfriend from high school is advertising on the back of grocery carts at King Soopers. He is That Guy. That face on the back of the carts.

I have requested one of those grocery carts from Santa. Please.

So I am planning a tacky Christmas party, and my friend Lisa is trying to guess my outfit. I told her it would leave her breathless (yes, more than just speechless; she might choke).

Her most recent guess was wrong, but so painful that it actually burned a portion of my soul when I read it:

“Velvet khakis?”

Wow. Think about it.

Would you rather…
A) Drive a car with no heat on the coldest day in Colorado’s history.
B) Drive a car with no door.
C) Drive a car with no front left wheel.

Please pick one now.

This is my life. I have three cars I can drive, but they are all seriously troubled.
I think I got frost bite on my toes from the two-hour drive to work. I am now sitting here at work wanting to go home but scared… really. I like my toes. And I just got a pedicure gift card today.