Clamoring for affection from the retail vestiges like some fashion decay, I corner-spotted these skinnies and thought what the hell, why not add a little color rush to the manically gloomy weather inconsistencies.  A hastened turn-on-heel and about a minute’s thought later, I surrendered to their visual residency regardless the legion of the others jam-packed in my wardrobe.  Outfitted with faded knees and an obvious cherry-siren glory, I confess…  I’m semi-addicted to their valentine sweetness.

What else:

The writing forefront is fantastic, toying with some unshakable ideas.

Expensive latte concoctions at noon.

Berries by the bulk.

Waiting impatiently for a handful of e-Bay items to arrive.

Finally scored the coveted Emma Cook boots for Topshop.

Tonight, episodes of House.

Random photos with the camera love child.

Oh, yeah… quit f***ing spamming my site! 

As I wrap my mind around it like some unreal fantasy, I realize the thing about closets is that they contain much more than clothes, shoes, and handbags… apparently they store our lives in a fashion nutshell.  The pair of jeans we refuse to surrender, the t-shirt worn only in the company of our laptops, the torn and tatty sweater we forgot we owned, and even that hideous pair of heels that while the 80’s called and said they want them back… vintage really isn’t the appropriate word. Okay, there might be ramifications to these actions but let’s face it… it’s going to take more than a militia of angry fashion mobsters before we ever throw in the towel on all our favorite things.  With that said, I suppose it’s true that while some depend on the sanctuary of comfort food, given the circumstance, this is really a cut and dry case of comfort clothes and shoes. 

So, after that late night dinner party I aforementioned, and several cocktails later, I started rifling through my closet, one of my natural habitats.  And I couldn’t help wondering why I was hoarding all these items like some dirty little secret.  But most importantly…  I couldn’t figure out when (exactly) I’d managed to collect all of it. Anyway.

Lounging around the domicile in a beat-up Wang t-shirt and VS jumper, the afternoon slips away as I enthusiastically make some headway through the blogosphere and about 345 e-mails… not to mention, deciphering all of the flourishing ideas tangling about inside the memory warehouse for my newest novel, as well the short fiction piece I’m (also) currently pondering. 

It’s exhausting just thinking about it, so maybe I should’ve jokingly prefaced the above declaration by adding that the Smirnoff laptop garnish is helping to variable degrees.

Arbitrary side note:  The weekend came with a juxtaposition of what has been deemed The Invention of Leisure Chaos… and while there’s still plenty to conquer before the workweek reappears, tonight–after a quick dinner party–I have every intention of curling up and watching relic episodes of Felicity in near marathon-style.