Pink and Green Libertines

Here's a first peek at the new line Libertine is producing for Target. It will hit the stores in July.

I don't know about you, but I'm not crazy about argyle. It has such a broadening effect, don't you know. Also ... skulls? On my chest? To provide conclusive evidence that my hooters actually are as big as my head?

I don't think so.

But some of the pieces look cute, and you young, lithe girls might like them.

More pictures here. Scroll down--there's a cute LBD; an adorable black tiered skirt ... the collection is worth a look. Just say no to the argyle skulls, OK?

Review: Neutrogena Healthy Skin Anti-Wrinkle Serum, Intensive

OK, inspired by my pal Badger, I've decided to become a reviewer.

Today's review is for Neutrogena Healthy Skin Anti-Wrinkle Serum, Intensive. Yes, that's "Intensive," which I guess means this product was designed to be used by an aging Shar-Pei like me. (So if you're under 37 years old, don't bother. Go off and battle acne or something--come back and talk to me in a few years.)

Brief digression: I can't believe how great drugstore skincare has gotten in the past few years. I mean, when I was a kid it was all 1006 Lotion and Pacquin Hand Cream and Jergen's Lotion, but now companies like Neutrogena, ROC, L'Oreal, and Oil of Olay are constantly coming out with truly ground-breaking products.

So anyway, this serum. I tried it because a serum I've used for a couple of years seems to have disappeared from the stores. So I figured I needed to try something new. Even though I don't have a lot of skin problems and have always been basically pretty happy with mine, aside from that whole aging thing. Also, a friend of mine said she was using a Retinol-containing product from Neutrogena, and her skin really looked brighter and better when she used it.

So when I saw this serum, I went for it. Like Oil of Olay's Regenerist Daily Regenerating Serum, a dimethicone-based product that pretty much started the whole thick, oil-free-yet-creamy serum fad, the Neutrogena product pumps out a pea-sized blob of something thicker than water and thinner than cream. You put it all over your face ... and if you read the fine print, you do it once a day, under moisturizer. Not twice a day. Because that might make you peel.

Which it did.

But that's good! Peeling means a retinol product is working. And it wasn't full-on Renova-style peeling; just a touch of flakiness near my mouth.

As for other results, I can't say that I look better. On the other hand, I don't look worse. I'm not breaking out; it's great under makeup; and that peeling thing convinces me that it's gently nudging my tired old epidermis along.

So buy it. And use it once a day, so you don't peel.

The knock off of a knock off, and other adventures

Hello, internet!

OK, yeah, I signed on to the compact, where I agree not to buy anything for a year. And I have managed pretty well, for a recovering shopoholic. Which leaves me with not much to blog about over here. Hence my lack of posts.

But then my purse was stolen. Containing everything important in my life, except, thank goodness, my cell phone and filofax. So the good news is if you were already a friend of mine and I had your number, I can still call you.

The bad news is that I am now missing the following: a big black tote bag, a combination checkbook/wallet, my prescription sunglasses, various credit cards, cash, my driver's license, and my passport, which I stupidly had with me.

So while my first order of business was to notify banks, credit agencies, and the government about my loss, my second order of business was to stop living with a phantom limb--that bag that I kept reaching for--which wasn't there.

Now the original bag was this:
a $25 dollar cheapie from Target. Except in black. It was a knock-off of a Marc Jacobs design. I liked the outside pockets for my keys and cell phone, and was big enough to carry music folders or hold my laptop. It also zipped shut, so I could stow it under the seat in front of me when I was on an airplane without worrying that my wallet or a crucially important lipstick would fall out and roll away.

The replacement, ironically enough, is this:


a real Marc by Marc Jacobs bag from Neiman Marcus.

Now, why would someone who was cheap enough to buy the fake bag pop for the real thing? Because inexpensive trend-driven stores like Target aren't selling black bags right now. They're selling summery stuff. But I want my black bag back, and I want it right now.

Also, if I buy another cheap bag, I'm letting the thieves win.

So I got the original instead of the faux.

Why Americans are rich, surrounded by crap, friendless, and miserable

This is not what Adam Smith had in mind.

Another argument against shopping

In case you find this convincing,

check this out.

A progress report, with a rant on gift-giving as a sort of gift-with-purchase.

OK, so recently I went on about how I had signed on with The Compact, a group of people who range from recovering Shopaholics like me to Doom 'n' Gloom-spouting Survivalists who--even as you're reading this--are generating their own electricity using some kind of bicycle-powered doohickey, just like the people on Gilligan's Island. If you're old enough to remember that, and you probably aren't.

Anyway. I swore off buying anything new. For a year. Until January 7, 2008.

Well, the serpent tempted me, so I ate I broke the agreement last week.

Yes, I fell from grace. I bought something new. But don't get excited. I didn't hit the cosmetics counters at Barneys. Or the shoe department at Brooks Brothers. Or the fur department at Neiman Marcus, for that matter.

I went to a men's clothiers in the pastoral village of Newtopia, Illinois, and bought my son a pair of black cotton pants, because he needed to wear them in a concert.

So. I spent $35 at the local men's clothing store.

On the other hand ... these are my other recent purchases:



1. A Universal Geneve Tiffany 18K gold watch for That Stud Muffin I Married, to mark the 21st anniversary of our first date. I bought it from an eBay seller last December. It was going to be a Christmas present, but what with one thing and another, I didn't manage to get it until after Christmas. So it became a gift for February, instead of December.

Now, according to the rules of the Compact, this purchase is OK, because the watch wasn't new. And anyway, I bought it before I signed up. And I had it cleaned and the engraving removed at our local jeweler's, so I bought used and used a local business. I even wrapped it in the box my own extremely nice gift watch came in. Which I still had lo, these 10 or so years later, because I'm anal organized that way.

So, all in all, I'm feeling pretty damned smug about that watch.

[And here's the rant I promised you about gift-giving: in my version of The Compact, I get to buy people presents. I feel very strongly about this, because having spent my life being given hideously ugly or otherwise "not me" hand-crafted crap--the counted cross stitch sampler, the lavender and celadon green quilted hanging that clashes so wonderfully with everything I own (and what the hell is the point of a quilt that's too small to put on a bed?????) and the ugly-ass spatter-painted shallow ceramic bowl ... or was it a rather tall plate? Whatever ... I've decided that the most heart-felt gift is not the one that gives the giver the warm squishies ... but the one that gives the giftee the warm squishies.

In other words, no matter how earth-friendly, organic, and vegetable-dyed your craft is ... if the person you give it to doesn't like it, it is just so much dead lumber cluttering up his or her life. And it might very well end up in a landfill.

And therefore, I will buy people things I think they will like, even if I have to buy them something new. And I will not craft them a tie-dyed tea-cozy out of my children's old diapers.]

2. While dropping off a few bags of stuff at the local thrift shop (including some new-in-the-box shoes from Brooks Brothers that didn't fit and were still sitting around waiting to be returned) I browsed their extremely tiny stash of children's clothes and found a pair of black slacks for my daughter to wear for her concert performance. Her size, perfect fit, $4. Yay!

3. From eBay: the following used Lilly Pulitzer items for my daughter:





4. Some books for my daughter for her birthday. All brand new and shiny, but remember: in my Compact, gifts don't count. Also, I bought them at Newtopia's only independent bookstore, instead of getting them much cheaper at Amazon.com. Thus supporting local businesses, paying local taxes, and providing myself with yet another reason to feel smug.

5. A used book for my husband for Valentine's Day. The sixth volume of Akira, to be exact. Coming to me from an Amazon used book seller.

That's it. That's all the new-to-me stuff that has made it into my house in the past month.

I can't tell you how much more peaceful it feels around here.

And the recycling bin has never been this empty.

For some reason, my credit cards aren't jumping out of my wallet.

So I stopped buying stuff as of January 7th, and guess what? It hasn't been a problem yet. It helps that I have so. damned. much. stuff. that literally, I could go for a year without even buying toiletries, except for toothpaste and dental floss.


Mind you, the health and beauty section of Whole Foods looks like a garden of earthly delights. Lotions! Essential Oils! Hair bands! Stuff!


It's all really lovely. But I don't need it ... and I don't even want it.


I want to get back to actually wanting stuff. I want to feel pleasure when someone gives me a present, instead of wondering where I'm going to put it. I want to actually enjoy material goods, instead of sorting through them, losing them, misplacing them, taking care of them, and cramming them into overstuffed closets and bulging drawers. Because I'm no ascetic. I do like stuff. I just want to pare down enough to enjoy what I already have ... and maybe actually want to acquire something new.


But this sort of thing isn't going to do it for me:




A life-size resin status of Jessica Rabbit. That's 5' 9" of cartoon womanhood, people. For only $1,500.00! And with free shipping!

What's wrong with me that I don't want it?

Why I've stopped posting here.

It's because I've stopped shopping.

I stopped shopping a while ago, except for Christmas presents.

I was tired to death of the lack of organization in my house. I had clothes double-hung in my closet. I had shoe boxes stacked up behind a chair in a corner of my bedroom. I had scarf boxes stored in one of those hanging shelf doohickeys made of canvas in my second closet, shelves full of purses in their keeper bags, and jewelry bursting out of my jewelry box. The only way I could get my clothes into my drawers was to spend a Japanese-tea-ceremony amount of time folding and stacking my clothes.

I couldn't find anything.

I couldn't remember whether I'd bought something. I'd find things I didn't remember having bought.

I was going nuts.

Then I read a story on Yahoo! news about The Compact: a group of people in San Francisco who swore off buying anything new for a year. I decided to sign up. So on January 7th, I did. And so did my husband.

So I managed to go all non-consumer just in the nick of time. I'm still a trend setter, and not a trend-follower. Because since I signed on with the Compact, I've read the article about how affluenza is going to destroy the world. And how the environmental cost of stores like H&M is far too high.

Join me as I reform my ways. Or not ... it's OK. But I promise I won't turn all whole-wheat and joyless. I mean, I can still write about stuff; it's just that I can now write about all that stuff that I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Like, say ...


a white fringed Versace bag on sale for $3,462



or a tiger-striped cocktail dress for $1,573



Guiseppe Zanotti sandals for $450



Look at the money I've saved already! Not to mention the favor I'm doing everyone by not buying this Godawful crap and parading around in it.

Washington Post publishes articles on scary-skinny models

Is the fashion industry going to start policing itself? Apparently so. Yet according to the Washington Post, it's a needlessly bureaucratic move:

The industry also needs to stop hand-wringing, caucusing and shifting responsibility. If a young woman walks into a casting call who is 5-10 and a size 0, if she looks gaunt and emaciated, if her kneecaps are wider that her thighs, she shouldn't be hired. Designers regularly tell models they are too short, fat, exotic, ethnic, all-American. Surely they can manage to tell a few models they're simply too thin.

Thank you, Washington Post. The big kneecaps have been freaking me out for a while now. For the rest of the story click here (you might have to register.) Oh, and some exhibitors have been telling models they're too thin; it has happened at least once before.

Woot! Great Shoes on Clearance at Brooks Brothers!

Yesterday I moseyed over to brooksbrothers.com to see whether they had any merino turtlenecks. I didn't find any, but I did happen upon a major, major shoe sale. If you're a size five or six, you're really in luck, but even my size 9s found plenty to choose from!

Because purple is the new black, I loved the purple tweed frame handbag with a matchy-matchy pair of purple tweed slingbacks.

They're kind of Miss Marple-ish, but in a good way.

There was a pair of lovely chocolate brown woven leather pumps, marked down from $198 to $59.00. You'll have to click to see it, because Blogger is acting up.

These brown Monk Strap pumps would look great with pants:
These brown tweed Donegal pumps with the brown leather cap toe are too cute ... I had to have them:
A pair of pink and green slides for next spring:
I also got some Christmas presents. And some weren't even for me.

Doing it up Bobbi Brown

I had a four-hour rehearsal today on Wabash and Huron in Chicago, which is way too conveniently located near the North Michigan Avenue shopping area.

That Stud Muffin I Married and I are going to a black-tie event for his job. They call it "The Prom." Ew. At least it's at the Field Museum, so I'll get to see the King Tut exhibit.

Anyway, I stopped in to Neiman Marcus to buy a new Spanx stomach-flattening instrument of torture, also a new bra, because I feel I owe it to my public to bind myself in uncomfortable latex-y fetishwear. Either that or I enjoy pain--I'm not sure which.

In Neiman Marcus I was waylaid by the Bobbi Brown exhibit. I usually don't find much
that appeals to me in the BB line, but a lipgloss palette called to me with its siren song. The shades are Bellini, Papaya, Berry, Posey, Orchid, and Grape and they are all BEAUTIFUL.


So then I let the BB artist put makeup on me and naturally that meant I had to buy something. So I walked out with:

Eye shadows in Bone and Bronze


Gel Eyeliners in Bronze Shimmer and Hunter Ink


Natural Brow Shaper (and Hair Touch Up) in Mahogany


And three of the super-soft, densely packed Bobbi brushes:

Ultra Fine eyeliner brush
Eye Shadow brush
Eye Shader brush

Then I finally managed to get to the Lingerie department where I bought the rubbery spandex underclothes, also two pairs of Argyle cashmere ankle socks, in black and brown.

That's it. I'm done! (And done in.)

Your daughter wouldn't be caught dead in these shoes.

But that doesn't keep me from wanting them. They're in my shopping cart at Arthur Beren's.

I love Arthur Beren. LOVE IT. They stock shoes in hard-to-find sizes. If you wear a tiny size or a narrow size or a size 11, you will love this place. My friends who wear narrow widths are always whining about not being able to find shoes that fit. Well, I wear a C-width, when I can get it, which isn't often. And mostly, wide-width shoes are sold at places like PayLess. And they're made of pleather. Which, I guess, befits my lumpen proletariat feet. But three words: No, no, no!

So ... Arthur Beren. With a very, very nice selection of shoes. Some of which are even fashionable (check out the boots!)

But that's not what I'm about today. Today I need replacements for beloved shoes that are getting worn out. And I need shoes for when I'm singing, which unfortunately, means low, sturdy heels that I can stand in for long, long periods of time. And wear with pants or skirts. And in black, with black hose or black pants, to go with my choir robe. Not exciting.

These, My Girl by Stuart Weizmann fit the bill:



Or these, which are so classic and old-ladyish that my gorge rises a bit: Salvatore Ferragamo's Lillaz in black. Perfect with a choir robe. (Or to wear when I'm robbing a bank. My God, they look respectable! Maybe I'd better skip them.)



And then these, for knocking around in when I'm wearing jeans but want something a little sleeker than old skool Pumas or my beloved clogs, Ferragamo's Trim in brown calf:



And then, because I'm not always wearing flats or low-heeled shoes, I also need something a little dressy, but not ridiculously glamorous. For those occasions, Stuart Weizmann's Stretch Limo.



And these. I really need these. The ultimate ladylike dress shoe, the classic slim-heeled slingback with a slim heel and a closed toe. Nothing is more irreproachable, yet--dare I say it--sexier. For those occasions, Calligarius' Balux in black/black.



OK, I need to get this off my chest. I'm not crazy about the beige/black combination. In fact, I kind of hate it. I don't care if Chanel popularized it long ago, or that Rene Mancini, my favorite shoe designer of all time, originated it. I don't like the combination of beige and black. Beige and brown, yes. Gray and black, yes. But warm colors combined with cold colors do not look good to my eye. In fact, they look like ass. (Like a black thong on a beige ass, to be exact.)

Finally, Stuart Weizmann's sumptuous and elegant Clara in black peau de soie with a three-inch heel--lovely, lovely, lovely, even if the more tasteful and discerning fetishists will love it, too:



I think I need to decide between the two low-heeled choir lady shoes. Because I don't want to waste perfectly good purple suede platform peep-toed ankle-strap money on two pairs of choir lady shoes. I may be a middle-aged choir lady with a wardrobe full of clothes from the Talbot's, but I have my limits.

Elvis Costello was right.

It's a black and white world. At least, as regards men's formal wear.


Check out my hot new idea for men's fashion: bracelets that will say WWFW? Meaning, of course, "What would Fred wear?" I see it in platinum or white gold. Maybe yellow gold. OK, if we must, rubber. Black and white rubber.

None of which would Fred Astaire have been caught dead wearing. But he did look natty, especially in white tie:


You know, as in the song: "Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails." You know what I'm talking about, right? Well, just try to get the proper equipment for your husband when you're heading out to opening night at the opera, followed by the opera ball, and it's white tie.

First we needed to buy a suit. Pal Joke sent me the url to an eBay auction. It was from a rental place that was liquidating inventory. The suit was a buy-it-now auction for $139, with another $15 for shipping. Quel bargain! The fellow who owned the store emailed asking for measurements, height, weight, etc., etc., and I have to say, the thing fits beautifully. Now, I don't know the suit's fabric is, nor do I want to. It might be bad news. I'm pretty sure it's wool ... but it's not lovely, soft, drapey wool. It doesn't have the drape of the Brooks Brothers suits ... but they cost $1,200.

So the suit was taken care of. But then there was the whole question of the accessories. Now, you'd think with Brooks Brothers, Ralph Lauren, and Paul Stuart all within a short walk of my apartment, I'd be sitting pretty, but unfortunately, getting my hands on the right accessories was a lot harder than it should have been. I've decided to write it all up so that that you, too, (or your spouse) can look snazzy in white tie.

The short version is that you will do a lot better at chain stores that have branches in the Deep South. Brooks Brothers has branches in New Orleans and Charleston, South Carolina, both cities where full-dress balls occur with some frequency. Therefore, Brooks Brothers is in a position to special-order stuff from stores that stock it. Ralph Lauren and Paul Stuart are not in the same position.

We are located in Chicago, so we had to deal with a north-of-the-Mason-Dixon-line lack of civilization. What follows is the story of where we got what we needed.

1. The white cotton pique shirt, preferably with a stiffly-starched detachable collar. Brooks Brothers is the only store that carries one. And the Chicago store had it out back, not out front where you could see it. They also don't sell it on their website. My salesman, Terry Higgins, special-ordered one for me. $225.

2. A white cotton pique bow tie. Brooks Brothers had one for $45, but it was one of those pre-tied monstrosities. (Excuse me, but What The Fornicate? Does this make any sense at all? Wouldn't somebody who was popping for full-on white tie want a tie that ... well ... ties?) I found the right kind of tie at Ralph Lauren's Chicago flagship. Pure and simple, no hooks to size the thing; you have to make it work by knotting it well. And it costs $95. (BTW, Ben Silver has a nice page of instructions for tying bow ties.)

3. A white cotton pique waistcoat/weskit/vest. This is worn instead of a cummerbund, to cover the top of the pants. My salesman at Ralph Lauren told me that they get these things in in December. The salesman at Paul Stuart didn't know what I was talking about, and tried to sell me one of those brightly patterned Four Weddings and a Funeral numbers. No, no, no! Once again, Brooks Brothers is the only store that carries it. It was special-ordered for me for $175.

4. Studs. You can't wear your yellow gold and onyx studs with white tie. You must wear mother-of-pearl or silver; otherwise you break up the lovely expanse of whiteness. I bought my husband a set of sterling studs and cufflinks from the vintagey looking jewelry case at Ralph Lauren. They were $560 marked down to $160. Otherwise, I'd have ordered these convertible studs for $275 from Brooks Brothers:



5. Shoes. OK, you might, like my husband, have made do with normal black (polished, please) dress lace-ups for black tie events, but honestly, if you're going out looking like Stokowski, and you've popped for the shirt, studs, tie, and the non-Four Weddings waistcoat, you need the right shoes. Do not worry that you will look fey. Anyone who finds your shoes funny isn't going to a white-tie occasion, anyway, so his or her opinion doesn't matter.

These shoes are correct:

These are (surprise, surprise) from Brooks Brothers. You can get the same shoe, but in black kid (which in my opinon is preferable) at Ralph Lauren, but, once again, only during the holiday season.

Brooks Brothers also sells those patent leather lace-ups that make you look as if you--at best-- play bass fiddle player with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and at worst, like someone who rents his shoes. Go ahead and buy them if you must, but they are, to my way of thinking, a hideous compromise.

I sent my husband out to buy his own shoes--aren't I nice?--and Brooks Brothers didn't have any in his size. So he came home with a pair from Salvatore Ferragamo. They are patent leather slip ons with grosgrain trim, but no bows. Another compromise, I suppose, but they don't look rented. In fact, they look nice. Neither pimpy nor fey. And he said the important thing for him was that the shoes be something he'd only wear at night, with dress clothes. (By George, I think he's got it!)

6. It doesn't stop there. There is the matter of your socks. Dress shoes like those pictured above are cut rather low in the vamp, so you need to be wearing the right socks, which are black and don't have ribs. These are the right socks, courtesy of Brooks Brothers.



7. It goes on and on. You really need a black silk top hat, and you can get a silk opera hat at Ascot Top Hats. For a stick, I suggest you try an antiques store, or Ascot Top Hats. For gloves, which really are necessary with white tie, you're on your own. I bought the last pair available at the Fell Company in Winnetka. Thank goodness the Opera Ball is in September, so we didn't need to get a cloak, as I have no idea where to find one that wouldn't make my husband look like Mandrake the Magician. Or the Phantom of the Opera. Or an escapee from a Renaissance Faire. You can get linen handkerchiefs, three for $40, at Brooks Brothers, and Ascot Top Hats has nice instructions on how to fold them nicely for an ultra-natty finishing touch.

A Shout-out to my Shorties: Smirnoff's Prepsta Guide

You may have seen the video, but you really need to read the handbook, too.

And remember to leave a comment. In cursive!

Linda Anderson in black and white

Today we'll all experience Poppy's new-found lust for black and white damask in the guise of a catalog review. Yay!

It's not often I see something new in the catalogs that piling up this time of year. What with targeting marketing and customer lists being swapped around all the time, every catalog I get reminds me of another one.

So at first the Linda Anderson catalog struck me as just another gift/decorative accessories/ladies' casual clothing and jewelry emporium. Along the lines of the Sundance catalog, except not as western. Or like Charles Keith ... but not as Southern. Then it sort of reminded me of Ballard Designs.

The truth is, Linda Anderson carries a lot of unique merchandise that is vaguely reminiscent of other things I like. That sounds like faint praise, but it isn't. For example, these bookends remind me of Ballard Designs. They look sort of 1920s, and sort of Frenchily-ooh-la-la, if you know what I mean.

Adorable bathing beauty bookends that would be perfect for my black-and-white kitchen--so handy for holding up my cookbooks--plus they would remind me not to eat any of the goodies I cooked for fear of POPPING OUT OF MY BATHING SUIT--except the website told me they were out of stock. And maybe they're a little kitchsy, anyway.

And it isn't often that I see a double page spread that makes me think "ooh, I want those. And that. And that." But this did it:

Black and white damask-patterned plates and mugs

"Parisian Table Lamp"

There were some other lovely black and white damask home accents in the catalog, but I couldn't find them on-line. Which means I can't show them to you. Which is annoying.

It's bad when things are out of stock. And it's worse when the catalog and the website appear to exist in parallel universes. Note to retailers: If you have a print catalog and a website, we expect to find more merchandise on the website, not less.

I rate the Linda Anderson catalog "F" for frustrating.

Waverly's Metro Line at Target

I'm in love.


So stylish! So chic! So Audrey Hepburn-in-Breakfast at Tiffany's!

But it's too late. I'm already married. I'm committed to a different color scheme.

(Anyway, I was looking for kitchen curtains in the same stripe as that neckroll. And they didn't have any.)

But oh, that black and white bedding! Swoon!

Check it out here.

LeSpoiledbrat?

Somebody somewhere had me clicking around the internet, and before I knew it I was perusing the new offerings on the LeSportsac website. And I came across a few designs that tickled my fancy.

First of all, there is a rush of Hermes--well, I won't tar them with the epitaph "knock-offs," and no one would mistake them for Hermes, but they are definitely horsey:



Which also comes in light beige. And then there's



Which, again, wouldn't fool anyone for a second. But this one



is really a bit too close to Hermes's iconic "Bolduc" print ... so if I were an in-house attorney at Hermes, I'd sit up and notice.

So that was fun. But then ... I found it. The perfect print. The print that was so perfect that I actually went and found my daughter and shoved my laptop under her nose, practically squealing "Look at this!" and hoping that she'd like it so I could spend $78 on a new backpack for her.



And she did, so I did.

So ... the moral of the story is ... if you like to shop, name your daughter Cinderella Snow White Sleeping Beauty "Barbie."

p.s. The LeSportsac website is awesome. And if you're interested in a particular pattern for Barbie your daughter, you can search for every style available in it.

p.p.s. Free shipping and no sales tax, too.

Still In the Pink!

It just goes to show you. Here I provide In the Pink with great, free publicity. I mean, all six of the people who read this blog probably went off and ordered something from their Spring 2006 clearance sale.

But me? I ordered on Thursday. My package showed up Friday. Fast shipping, right? But I ordered four Shrunken Polos and only received three, and of the three, one is the wrong color.

But do I stamp my foot, pout, and flounce off? No I don't. I checked my confirmation email and found the store's telephone number, so I called In the Pink and talked to customer service representative. She told me the missing Phipps Pink polo was shipped yesterday, and she issued me a call order for free UPS shipping so I can exchange the incorrect shirt.

I love internet shopping, but sometimes it's great to deal with a real live human being.

Spring Clearance at In the Pink

In the Pink is my favorite Lilly Pulitzer Signature Shop. I love to shop at the Newbury Street store, and they also have an excellent website. So imagine my delight when I opened my email today:

This is it...the sale you've been waiting for! For a limited time only, we are offering you 50% off our entire ladies spring and resort collections! Shop now to get the first look and shop the best selections. From skirts to dresses, we've got it all. But hurry...this offer expires Sunday, July 23, 2006.

How to Use Your Special Discount:
Select all of the items from the ladies spring collection that you would like to purchase.

Go to your Shopping Bag.

Enter your discount code and click the Apply button.

Click on Proceed to Checkout to complete your order.
Discount Code: 5158

All sale items are final sale. This offer cannot be applied to previously purchased merchandise. Offer expires Sunday, July 23, 2006.

www.inthepinkonline.com
Call Toll Free: 1.888.695.4559

And this is what I got: a pair of white cropped jeans with ribbon trim,
and four Shrunken Polos, in Phipps Pink, Pink Grapefruit, white with pink logo, and white with green logo.

(If I weren't always spilling food right smack onto my boobages, or forgetting what's in the laundry and forcing my shrunken polos to endure long periods in super-hot dryers, I wouldn't need to buy so many shirts, but last year's supply is pretty much history.)


If you like Lilly, it's worth it to register at several Lilly on-line shops--that way you can maximize your chances of scoring exactly what you want. I also shop at Village Palm and Tickled Pink, but to my mind, In the Pink has the easiest web interface. Click here for a list of Lilly on-line shops from the Lilly Pulitzer web site.

Why you should ignore everything I say.

Apparently, I'm a man.

And everyone knows men don't know anything about shopping.

Your Brain is 33% Female, 67% Male

You have a total boy brain Logical and detailed, you tend to look at the facts And while your emotions do sway you sometimes... You never like to get feelings too involved

What Gender Is Your Brain?