getting my fill of flowers

So after I made a big deal about not feeling obligated to write about fashion, I'm going to write about some accessories. Anyway, Saturday here (in Maine) actually felt like spring. I'm not silly enough to get fooled into thinking that it's actually here, but it was so warm and we went for such a nice walk and for a second I saw past the dirty snowbanks to the seasons that make the rest of the time in Maine worth it. And then I went into Stiletto, a sweet little store in the Old Port, and found these:


LOVE. I need them immediately. When I showed them to Ben online tonight, he even said, "You should just order them." Let's be honest, I appreciate an enabler. And also, they remind me of a long-lost, unrequited love circa 2005. Behold:

Now, this isn't the exact model I lusted after (I wasn't crazy about the bamboo handles), but I love the print. A lot. And not only was it not in the budget back then (or now, if I could even find it anywhere to purchase), but I was forced to have it paraded in front of me on the arm of someone who, back then, caused me much pain...

Let's set the scene: It's 2005, Boston Red Sox Spring Training in Fort Myers, Florida. We're waiting to watch the players exit the locker room post-game (a little dorky). I was waiting for one in particular... I would post a pic, but I'm still too angry.

Johnny Damon. Ugh!

Anyway, he finally exited the tunnel with his bleach blond wife, clad in True Religions, and holding on her tan arm... my Gucci bag.

It was depressing, to say the least. But now it's four (um... wow) years later and I'm going to buy these Jack Rogers sandals. Bye bye, winter blues!

Remember that time I was going to write a blog?

UGH. Frustration with myself that I'm sucking at writing this. And it's the worst kind of suck, too-- the kind where you just don't even try, and so you just suck by default. So here we go, I guess-- if it sucks anyway, at least I gave it the old two-years-post-COLLEGE-what-am-I-doing-with-my-life try.

So, new game. I think my biggest problem is that I feel like I limited myself with the fact that the word "styled" is in the title of this blog, making me feel like I need to write about fashion all the time. Which is a little scary. I'm also super literal, if you hadn't noticed, because I'm pretty sure people who weren't ISTJs wouldn't care about that and would just write about whatever they wanted. This reminds me of the time I took a class called "Gendered Memoir" and I wrote ahem, a memoir (that I will never allow anyone to read-- oh you're upset? Don't lie.) that was super disjointed because, hello--how at age 19 are you supposed to scan back through your life and be like okay, that was important moment.. yup, that one, too, and then write them all up and bundle them and say here, here's a nice tidy package of all the things that make me me! Some people just picked a thread, I guess, like eating disorder or cheerleading or "my crazy summer that time" and made it work. But my memoir was all these random bits that didn't really correlate to each other and I guess the first little scene gave them the impression that my memoir was going to be about my "struggle with OCD." Which... hilarious! If you know, me, I guess. So, anyway, it was random and when I think about it I cringe and have secondhand embarrassment for myself. Which I guess is just... regular embarrassment.

So, now that I've really circuitously told you that this isn't necessarily going to be about fashion, I am pledging to post at least every other day. About anything. You're welcome!