Fashion Friday - Fashionably Late Edition

It seems, and in fact has been, a most frightfully long time since a post has been posted about fashion. I would like to take this fine Saturday to say a little bit about shoes. Yes, shoes. As a wise person once said, "You should not judge any man until you have walked a mile in his shoes". Perhaps this erudite and perspicacious individual attempted to intimate that one human being should not judge another without knowledge of this other's experiences and philosophies of life, or maybe he simply meant that much can be discerned by a person's choice in footwear. Whatever the case may be, the judicious choosing of what a well dressed and stylish lady adorns her feet with is paramount. In brief, and to conclude, there is something to be said for footwear that is chic, versatile and comfortable.

The ballet flat is a pretty piece that goes well with both skirts and pants.



The simple pump is a shoe that, though high-heeled, can be incredibly comfortable, as well as chic.




A pair of boots can be coupled with a vast array of outfits and are appropriate for almost any season.

Chivalry Isn't Quite Dead Yet

Or at least it wasn't back in May. Quoting from Christa Taylor's blog, which is quoting from an old Dockers ad campaign:

"Once upon a time, men wore the pants, and wore them well. Women rarely had to open doors and little old ladies never crossed the street alone. Men took charge because that’s what they did. But somewhere along the way, the world decided it no longer needed men. Disco by disco, latte by foamy non-fat latte, men were stripped of their khakis and left stranded on the road between boyhood and androgyny. But today, there are questions our genderless society has no answers for. The world sits idly by as cities crumble, children misbehave and those little old ladies remain on one side of the street. For the first time since bad guys, we need heroes. We need grown-ups. We need men to put down the plastic fork, step away from the salad bar and untie the world from the tracks of complacency. It’s time to get your hands dirty. It’s time to answer the call of manhood. It’s time to WEAR THE PANTS."

Read the rest here.

The Glass Windshield

Members of Femininity Summit 2010, readers of this blog, I humbly submit the following thoughts about feminism's betrayal of the American woman:

A woman can now choose to become a doctor, a lawyer, a plumber, the local garbageman -- even to seek election as President of these United States. But if you glance behind the steering wheel of a Mustang or a Corvette, what are you going to see? A man. Behind the wheel of a BMW? An old man. Feminists may prattle on about glass ceilings in the realms of art, writing, politics, or academia, about salary disparities, lack of career options, or "the oppressive patriarchy" which has apparently stifled us for centuries, but the real barrier that women face isn't a glass ceiling at all -- it is a windshield. Why aren't women out on the streets, the top down on their Porsche 911? Why aren't feminists concerned over this disparity of female to male motorists? The fact is, respected readers, that I smell a conspiracy.

If the feminists of America, yea, even of the world, were really so very anxious about the complete and total equality of the sexes, they would not stop with the apparent autonomy that many women now revel in. They would not rest until we had gained an equal representation in all aspects of life, including the driver's seat. Instead, they remain mute on this issue, which leads me to wonder whether they are lining their pockets at the expense of their sisters in the field. Most car manufacturing companies are controlled by men, after all, and what would suit their interests more than a dearth of female drivers? Feminists claim that they seek this total equality of the sexes, yet I have not read one article or essay, heard one interview that addresses this most grievous of inequalities. And where else would feminists get the money to pay for all of those hideous pantsuits?

So, my fellow women, do not accept these red herrings of women's ordination or reproductive rights. Demand from them what you truly deserve: a Lamborghini Murcielago.

Hay,

So, The Shadow of the Bear movie needs some extras. I e-mailed them to say that my sister and I might be able to come. They said that they are especially in need of male actors, but girls are totally welcome.

Here is the information *copy and pasted* from the director of the the movie:

Are you within driving distance of Blaine MN?

Are you (or look like you could be) between the ages of 16 and 18?

Do you own a suit or prom dress? (or could borrow one for the day)

Are you free on July 24th?

Do you want to be in a Movie?

Then send me an e-mail at theshadowofthebear@ymail.com and let me know of your interest in being in the "after prom party scene with Rose and Rob" for our film shoot on the 24th! I'll send you any further information you need to know!

The Shadow of the Bear movie blog is below:

http://theshadowofthebear.blogspot.com/

How Much Does a Stamp Cost, Anyway?

We good Catholic homeskillets here like to write letters. I mean actual, physical pen-and-stationery letters. Facebook updates? Nice to keep tabs on friends over the summer. E-mail? Eh, it's okay, but it's still only words on a screen. You can't touch them. Phone calls? It's great to hear somebody's voice, but once the phone call ends, that's it -- there's no lasting record, nothing to hang on to and remember the call by.

And there are letters. Something that you can hold in your hand. Letters not only express the writer's unique personality and traits, laid out on the paper for you to see and hold on to, they represent valuable time taken from the writer's hectic life and spent on you, the recipient. The writer chose the paper, filled it with their soul, and gave it to you. How cosmic is that? And, if you're anything like the ladies of this blog, the margins are crammed with doodles, coffee stains, and random outbursts of life. At no extra charge.

I have a thing for blank paper of any kind. I've been known to spend hours in the stationery aisle, selecting the perfect ream of paper, elegant or whimsical; some stationery I even pick out with a specific friend in mind, one who would get a particular inside joke, or get a kick out of a cheesy pattern. But blank paper isn't enough -- you have to fill the blank pages with thoughts, jokes, anecdotes, and memories.

I've always adored the thought of letters, permanent keepsakes and milestones of a relationship, collected and tied with ribbon to be enjoyed years later. You can't do that with texts and e-mails. They just don't carry the same level of meaning. There's something so very impersonal about them. Don't get me wrong. I use and enjoy the convenience of e-mail and Facebook just as much as other people. But there's always a zing of excitement and adventure when ripping open an envelope that has traveled half-way across the continent to reach you. What tales will those ink-covered pages unfold?

Hat tip to Karen Edmisten for inspiring this post.