Category Archives: shopping

shoe discrimination

The average shoe size for an American woman is an 8.5. So I appeal to the majority of my audience when I ask: an 8 is too small, and a 9 is too big, right? That’s exactly why you wear an 8.5, right? Why ever would you subject yourself to ill-fitting shoes, when you can buy shoes in your size?

Now, take a look at my feet. I wear a 9.5… that is, I would wear a 9.5, but many manufacturers do not make shoes in my size. I am forced to squeeze into a 9, or flop around in a 10. If you’ve never needed to buy shoes in a 9.5 (and why would you? You wear a size smaller!), then you may not have noticed… but take a look in whatever apparel catalog you have handy. Look at some shoes, and see how many descriptions say something along the lines of “whole and half sizes 6-9, 10, 11.” Us ladies with 9.5 and 10.5 feet are discriminated against!

On a completely unrelated note: In my last flurry of eBay activity, I had posted a vintage dress (surprise, surprise) that I call the Waitress Dress:

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Black, with blue polka-dots, a roll collar, cuffed sleeves, and pockets big enough for a pad and pen… and maybe some Chinese take-out. I’ve had it for years, but I only wore it once. It’s too big on me, and looks kind of dumpy. Just like it looks on this dress form, in fact.

I don’t recall if I never before noticed the belt loops, or if I’d forgotten about them, but I saw them when I was looking over the dress to describe the auction listing, especially because the tiny tear that I put in the vintage fabric would have been covered by the belt, if one was included. The listing didn’t sell.

The local thrift store was have a half-price sale, and I bought a trio of vintage belts for a song.

Hey… (lightbulb)! How does this black patent belt look with that waitress dress? The answer: fabulous. The dress now appears to fit me, and is actually quite flattering. I wore it with my black, peep-toe Mary Janes with the oh-so-subtle black-and-blue houndstooth piping, and they look as though they were made for each other. Yay! All I need to do is stitch up the tear, and… new dress! Because, um, I was running short on dresses. Yeah.

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Pass/Fail

FAIL: I have done nothing more than think about and look at the fabric draped over my dress form, waiting patiently to be made into a top. I have not yet returned my latest ill-fitting mail-order purchases. I have not called my grandmother to say “hi,” nor have I thanked my sister for the box that appeared on my doorstep the other day PACKED FULL of Stone Pony gear*. I have not called Allstate to adjust my car insurance (why am I paying nearly $1,000 a year to insure a $3,500 car?). I have not fully worked out my next tattoo, which I need to get pretty durn immediately if it’s going to heal in time for Viva.

PASS: I filled out my annual Self Assessment for work. I returned the last two pairs of COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY shoes I bought. I made an appointment to have a PROFESSIONAL hairstylist work on my mop. It’s been years since someone with a license has colored my hair. I left the office early enough on Wednesday to enjoy the extra daylight. I’ve started to post a few of my favorite vintage garments on eBay, and while I hate to say goodbye to any of them, they all deserve to go to people who fit well inside of them, and can show them off. I’ll keep posting stuff until I run out of stuff to post. Anyone who has seen my flickr closet knows that could be a long way off. I decided, finally, to cull the pretty pink party dress from my planned Viva wardrobe, which means I can stop stressing about finding shoes to match it, or getting it altered in time. Maybe this year’s birthday party theme will be Pretty Pink Party Dresses. Apologies in advance to Erin, who doesn’t get along with pink. I’m sure she’ll manage. Jana sent me a photo of her beach chair, and her beer, on the sand at her new home in Oregon… and I printed it out and put it on my wall and will refrain from throttling her out of pure, blind jealousy when I see her on Saturday. And… um… well, I’m sure I accomplished something else. And hey, I still have today, Friday, and Saturday to hit the first half of this post!

“I think Spring is very eager to kick Winter off her couch, he’s been drinking all her beer and eating all her cereal, and it’s time he moved on with his life. Elsewhere.”Dooce

*No. Sorry, pal. Even without it, you’re cooler than Otter Pops in February.

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The Blouse To Be

I’ve gotten as far as roughly draping fabric over my dress form (a thousand thank-yous to Erin for letting me have her old form):

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So I hope it will look a little something like that, but a bit neater and more trim, by the end of the week.

I have a fab-yoo-lous vintage dress that I bought specifically to wear to Viva this year, but I forgot that the very complicated top is too big (surprise, surprise). I culled it from the list of items to pack, but Erin and Megan got pouty. Of course, Erin immediately researched Denver metro to find me a tailor whom I would trust with my vintage gear (she needs a few items altered as well), and came up with a woman who comes highly recommended. I’ll try to remember to call her tomorrow and see if we can arrange something in my ever-shorter time frame. Not only does that dress need some adjusting, but I have some jeans that would work better as capris, and a vintage dress/jacket set that is twice my size. The seamstress would have to work a miracle on that one, but I think it’s worth having her take a look.

Overall, a good weekend. I saw friends, I spent some time with my mom, I made a dent in some of the housecleaning. Both cats snuck outside, and Supercat (who can leap a 6-foot fence in a single bound) was so surprised to be on the other side of the door that he forgot what to do once he got there. If he remains oblivious, I’m happy to let him out more often. C’mon, Springtime!

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This post is not about sewing

No, Thursday’s project dealt with vibrators.

Yeah, that got your attention.

You see, I was trying to apply for a position writing product reviews for an online retailer, and the application process hinges upon my submitting a writing sample. This retailer would like to see 300-500 words about a vibrator. If you’ve read any of my previous posts, you know that words usually come easily to me. I can write at length about practically nothing. Here’s this opportunity to write about an actual, tangible object… one with which I am coincidentally familiar… and for the life of me, I cannot seem to come up with 300 words. And that’s just the bare minimum! My current word count on the product is at 232, and that includes the noise- and vibration-level ratings. Something I had never particularly thought about until it was time to write an in-depth review. I’m not giving up yet, it’s only been one night, but I’m really not sure how much more I can say. I don’t want to read other writers’ reviews, because I don’t want to be influenced by anyone else’s writing style, but to my readers: What details would you most appreciate reading in a review of a vibrator? Keep in mind, the product details (dimensions, features) are clearly listed on the main product page. If I mention them in the review, it needs to be in relation to its use.

I am so very glad that my father doesn’t read my blog.

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*Unintentional double entendres highlighted for the pleasure of the Saints & Pinners. “Everything in bowling is dirty!” 

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self-serving post

I’m tired. I spent too much time at the fabric store tonight, looking for the perfect leopard print swatch with which to finish up my skirt (never found an acceptable version; went with a Japanese floral instead), and also trying to find something to match a vintage suit I’ve had for years and never wear, because I don’t have the right blouse to wear beneath. Last night, lying in bed, I had a vision of a gathered halter top in a crêpe-backed satin, styled very much like Grace Kelly wears in Rear Window but with, ahem, a little less coverage:

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My god, that woman was gorgeous.

But I’m too tired to write about all that, so instead I’ll suggest that all y’all do a little shopping at my etsy storefront, where I’ve recently posted a whole slew of fun, stretchy bracelets made from real dice that I drilled myself. 160 of them. Not that I was keeping count or anything. 160 dice, one at a time. 160. That’s a lot of Yahtzee.

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