Pistol Annies...Smoking Guns

This morning, I've been rocking out to the catchy tunes of the Pistol Annies, Miranda Lambert's side project, an all-girl band.  I have to admit, simply listening to their girl-power anthems on my ipod makes me feel like a badass.  Maybe because it's Friday or maybe because I'm just in one of those don't-mess-with-me moods today, I'm totally digging the in-your-face lyrics and haunting background music of Hell on Heels and edgy toe-tapping Trailer for Rent.  I'm grooving to the beat and nodding my head like a gangsta rapper. 

Ever since the Pistol Annies made their live television debut, I was obsessed with their 3-part harmony and raw, emotion-filled lyrics.  There's just nothing cooler than a feisty girl with a guitar and a willingness to say what she has to say, no holds barred.  The more I listen to Miranda's unique, twangy voice, the more I enjoy her music and her message.  I think perhaps it's because I see a bit of myself in her. 

A born and raised Texas girl, I grew up on real country music and cut my musical teeth on the records of Patsy Cline, Randy Travis, George Strait and Willie Nelson.  Growing up with an older brother who beat me up on a regular basis (only some of it was well deserved), I  quickly learned how to fend for myself.  Once my parents saw right through my Oscar-worthy fake-crying performances, I was on my own.  So I guess you could say I was full of piss and vinegar at an early age.  My innate stubbornness also played a factor in my unwillingness to take any $#&^ off of anyone.

Combine that hard headedness with my passion for music and you get the kind of tunes Miranda and her Pistol Annie cohorts effortlessly produce, quickly shooting them to fame, fortune and yielding sold-out concerts and millions of album sales.  If you haven't had the opportunity to listen to their stuff, check out their debut album, Hell on Heels and download their newly released Annie Up. You'll soon be tapping your foot, bobbing your head to the beat.  After a drink or two, you may get to feeling invincible and perhaps even have the urge to start a bar fight. 

Hey, Sailor!

I don't know about you, but lately, I'm absolutely loving the red, white and blue nautical look.  Call me patriotic, but there's nothing like a bright pop of red and clean white mixed with a classic navy blue. It almost makes me want to break into a chorus of America, the Beautiful.  Perhaps I've been on a few cruises too many--or maybe I just like a traditional, all-American look.  Either way, I can't seem to get enough of striped tops and sundresses these days.

With summer fast approaching, and along with it, Texas's infamous 100+ degree temperatures, the nautical look couldn't be more appropriate.  Whether you layer a red cardigan over a white blouse with dark skinny jeans or rock a flirty striped navy/white dress with a red belt, you'll be totally on trend for the season. Keep it fresh with clean lines and dichromatic patterns, and then throw in a third color for an eye-catching pop.

Speaking of eye catching, as I wandered through the shoe department at Dillard's recently, I was drawn to these Gianni Bini T-strap sandals like a moth to a flame.  I couldn't put them down, and of course, once I tried them on, I was hooked.  I even adore their imitation Louboutin-esque red soles (since this may be as close as I ever get to owning a red-soled shoe). I typically pair them with a striped top and skinny jeans. As soon as I strap them on, my spirits are immediately lifted. 

Gianni Bini Traci T-Straps

If you haven't already, set your sails on a red, white and blue nautical-themed outfit this summer.  Maybe even slap on a bright red lipstick for a retro, pinup-girl finish.  You don't need a private yacht to pull this look off--but it will sure make you feel like a million bucks.  Anchors aweigh!

Red Sole Society

Anyone who has even a remote interest in the fashion industry knows of all the big-name shoe designers including Manolo Blahnik, Jimmy Choo, Stuart Weitzman and the great granddaddy of them all, Christian Louboutin (pronounced LOO-bi-Tawn).

Christian Louboutin has only been in business since the early 1990s, yet his signature red sole has become an iconic symbol recognized and coveted by shoe lovers everywhere.  Pay close attention the next time you see a Hollywood starlet on the big screen.  When she walks away, if you know what to look for, you'll most likely get a glimpse of red tapping against the pavement.  If you listen carefully, you may even hear it whisper, "I'm too good for you."

That's exactly the way I feel whenever I see someone authoritatively strutting by in a pair of Louboutins as though she owns the room--(and if you know how much a typical pair costs, it's a safe bet to say she probably does own the room!)  It's as though that woman is a member of an exclusive, high-society club that is extremely scrutinizing about its members.  I can almost imagine the salesperson who sold them to her sealing the deal with a secret handshake.  I sooooo want to be in that club, yet at the same time, I could never justify dropping a couple months' rent for a pair of shoes.  I would rather have a closet full of reasonably priced shoes than a single pair that costs in the four digits.

Maybe someday if I win the lottery, I'll be able to join the Louboutin club, but in the meantime, I'll just stick with my trusty, favorite brands that won't (entirely) break my bank. Don't get me wrong--I'd absolutely LOVE to own a pair of Louboutins, and I wouldn't even turn up my nose in exclusivity as a member of the club--but I'm not about to sell my soul for the famous red sole.

Gladiator, Begone!

There are few fashion trends that I look upon with utter contempt, but as I flipped through the glossy pages of People Style Watch the other day, I was reminded of one of them: the gladiator sandal.  The phrase "Long live the gladiator!" springs to mind as this strappy eye sore of a sandal simply refuses to die.  With the passing of each spring and summer season, the hideous sandals make a reappearance on the pages of (gasp) fashion magazines.

In my mind, gladiator sandals are right up there with Ugg boots.  I mean, come on people, they're called Uggs for crying out loud!  Coincidence?  I think not.  With the exception of young girls--and when I say young, I mean toddlers--no grown woman should sport these awful boots.  They give off the vibe that you're not even trying.  It's like rolling out of bed and going to college classes in your pajamas.

Another trend I can't seem to wrap my head around is Crocs.  I get the whole idea of comfort, but seriously--that's why God invented the flip flop!  Crocs sandals are the equivalent of wearing elastic-waistband pants on your feet, and that is just completely unacceptable for people under the age of 70. 

If you're of the school that gladiator sandals are cute, then I regret offending you; however, I am willing to take you shoe shopping.  Same goes for Ugg boots, but I'm sorry, if you stand behind Crocs, then you're already beyond help. 

Death to the gladiator---for the love of fashion, please go away!!!

MAD (wo)MEN

                                                           

I want to be Don Draper. No, really.  I want to be Don Draper in a dress.  More specifically, a floral-print, fit 'n flare number sported by the likes of Mrs. Betty (ex) Draper or a brightly colored, mod shift dress frequently worn by the current Mrs. Draper, the lovely Megan.

As you can see, I'm in love with Mad Men.  In fact, with each episode I catch on Netflix, I'm becoming more and more obsessed with life at an advertising agency in the 1960s. Hey, what can I say?  I was an advertising major in my former life, and the show combines my love for creativity and fashion.  What more could I ask for in a TV drama series?

The only thing (well, one of the things) that bugs me about the show is the way women were treated back in that era.  (The other is all the infidelity!  Geez, was every married man sleeping with his secretary?!)  Like I was saying, either you were a housewife, or if you worked, a secretary.  Even Peggy overcame the odds when Don promoted her to a junior copywriting position.  I don't mean to get up on my women's lib soapbox--in fact, I'm far from what you'd call a "feminist"; however, I do believe women should be given equal rights in the workplace.

Thankfully, things have changed since the 60s--although, it's still difficult as hell to land any job at an agency--much less, a creative job.  Believe me, I'd settle for a starting position as a secretary at an ad agency any day of the week just to get my foot in the door.  Little did I know how cutthroat an industry I'd chosen.  Imagine my naivety as a college student with big dreams of a becoming a copywriter at a well-established ad agency in a fancy corner office with a view.  To this day, I can't tell you the number of times I've scolded my mother for allowing me to choose advertising as my major.  Even knowing what I know now, though, I still don't believe I would have gone any other way.  I truly have a passion for all things creative.

I'm sure the TV show glamorizes life at an agency.  I mean, who really drinks bourbon at 9:30 a.m.?!  Ad men in that era drank on the job, smoked a couple packs a day, took long lunches to wine and dine clients, and then left the office early on occasion with no one to answer to for doing so.  What a life!  No wonder they could crank out amazing creative for account after account.  Of course, they probably all have lung cancer and saddlebags for faces by now.

In reality, or at least today's reality, (from what I hear) agency life is some serious hard work.  It's all about deadlines, writing and then re-writing (and re-writing again) to please the client.  It's many late nights and lots of weekends.  You practically sell your soul when you commit your life to an agency.  But how exciting to do something everyday that you love and that you're truly good at.

While I'm thankful to have a current position as a copywriter for a large retail company, I still long for a creative, agency job.  I guess I need someone like Roger Sterling to give me a chance to prove myself.  So if anyone reading this blog has connections (wink wink), hook a girl up!  In the meantime, I'll just continue to dress in vintage-style clothing and head off to my office job in a 6x6' cubicle everyday with dreams of someday making it to the big leagues as a MAD WoMAN.

The "Blinc" of an Eye

I don't typically write many beauty product reviews, although I have used my fair share of products in my lifetime.  I'm a self-proclaimed product junkie, so I've actually used many people's fair share.  Since my last blog post was about the backwoods brothers of Duck Dynasty, I felt the need to return to my fashion and beauty roots for my next article...thus, a review of my new fave mascara, Blinc.

Not only have I tried almost every mascara on the market, I've researched and sold many as well.  I know every drugstore favorite and higher-end prestige brand and their reputations from fellow junkies.  Until a few weeks ago, my long-standing favorite mascara was Definicils by Lancome--despite its hefty price tag of $27.

I recently asked a girlfriend to share with me her favorite brand of mascara, and I was disappointed to learn it was Benefit's Bad Gal Lash, which I had already tried and soon after regarded as simply "eh."  She asked if I'd ever heard of the kind that tubes your lashes.  What's this?  A new product I've not yet heard of?  How is this possible?  I was shocked.  Please tell me more about this tubing mascara called Blinc!

Apparently, it's a big seller on QVC, which I don't make a habit of watching very often.  It's not as though I need further encouragement to shop.  Well, I looked up information and product reviews on Blinc mascara's web site and was interested to learn it's not like your typical waterproof mascara.  While it is, in fact, waterproof--it easily washes off with only warm water.  You see, it actually creates a "tube" around each individual lash.  In order to remove it, all you have to do is hold a warm, wet rag on your lash line for a few seconds and then wipe the tubes off.  Each tube actually slips off.  In fact, had I not read about the removal process, I may have mistaken the tubes for my actual lashes and freaked out over the immense hair loss.

Since I wasn't blessed with the natural lashes of a diva, I must rely on my Shu Uemura lash curler and some hard-core mascara.  While Blinc mascara truly separates and defines each lash, it doesn't help enhance the curl.  I find myself curling my lashes, coating them with a single application of Blinc mascara and then recurling once the mascara has had time to dry.  My only complaint with Blinc is how wet it goes on, so you really have to be careful not to smudge it onto your eyelids.  Other than that, it makes my lashes look better than they've ever looked before, and it doesn't rub off or run.

Not surprisingly, Blinc mascara doesn't come cheap, but I also am a firm believer that you get what you pay for.  It's not absurdly expensive at $26 a pop, and the site offers free shipping in the U.S.  I've searched near and far, high and low, for my holy grail mascara, and I think I've finally found it in Blinc.  I feel like shedding a tear of joy--but it's okay, my mascara is waterproof.   ; )

www.blincinc.com

Duck Dynasty...Hillbilly Train Wreck!

I'm embarrassed to admit that I know the names of all the characters on A&E's reality show, Duck Dynasty.  Only because Jeremy makes me watch that show all. the. time.  I can't even get him to watch Project Runway with me, yet he tunes in to his favorite redneck reality show whenever it's on.

While I first turned up my nose at the idea of watching another reality show about trashy people who live in the swamp and don't have a full set of teeth between their whole family, I have to say it's really not that bad a show.  In fact, I find myself laughing out loud from time to time.  Maybe because it's a train wreck--you can't not look at it!

A few months ago, I didn't even know what a duck call was, much less realize a whole empire could be built upon its sales.  I thought a duck call was a noise you make while sporting camouflage and tromping through the woods.  The picture of Elmer Fudd comes to mind here.  But apparently, it's a little wooden whistle-like instrument that sounds like a duck.  Again, I'm shocked it's made these people millions!  But hey, who am I to judge?  Had I known there was an unmet need for such an object, maybe I would have created it myself and could then be writing this blog for a living.

The folks who make up Duck Dynasty look like they just stepped off of Willie Nelson's tour bus (and I mean that with the utmost respect to Willie--the most famous person I've ever kissed on the cheek...but that's another story for another day).  These two brothers, Willie and Jase Robertson, sons of Phil and nephews of ponytail-sporting Uncle Sy, are quite hilarious.  They don't appear to have cut their hair or shaved their thick beards for the better part of a few decades, yet they're married to beautiful, blonde women.  Is money a factor here?  Hmmm.  Who knows?  But I find myself tapping my foot along to the opening theme song, ZZ Top's Sharp-Dressed Man.

When I first tuned in to the show, I wondered how they could possibly create a whole series based on a hunting-enthused family and their duck and buck call business.  With each episode, though, they find some sort of drama to get into.  I was surprised to learn that almost the entire cast is college educated.  Apparently, Phil played college football at a major university as a first-string quarterback followed by a then second-string Terry Bradshaw.  He then gave up a professional career in the NFL to pursue his dreams.

Though the Robertson family makes themselves out to be a gun-toting, hee-haw having, sweet tea-drinking bunch of rednecks, they really do have their priorities straight.  They believe family is the most important thing in the world, they spend their time doing what they love, and they end each episode with a great big family dinner that Phil leads in a word of prayer.  It may be a train wreck of a show, but it's maybe one of the only morally sound reality shows on TV.  And that's something to say "amen" about!