How to Build a Cult Following. Rule #1: Must have t-shirts

Well, clearly it all starts with the merchandising. Because how can your followers demonstrate their unfaltering support of you and your awesomeness if they can't wear the t-shirt? Tragically, and as demonstrated in previous posts, I'm way too lazy to actually "make" t-shirts, even for my faithful. Without hard-won (or purchased) symbols of their love for me, their devotion - and mine to them because of it - slowly faded.

But, now I have found a way around my laziness and can bring my sheep-like followers back into the fold! A friend of my brothers took this photo at a party. A few well placed Google searches (oh, Google, how I adore thee) brought me where I should have been the whole time: the Rockwell online shop. T-shirts and hoodies and satin windbreakers all with MY NAME ON THEM.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Clearly the stars are aligned for my plans to lead a cult a la Fabio in Bubble Boy. But my t-shirts are so much better. "Those who reject him will mutate and burn eternally on Planet PX41, and Planet PX42 if they run out of room." And we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?

The LBD Files, Part 3

I know, I'm totally monopolizing the blog, and for that I apologize.
This tale will be short, too. It involves a Little Brown Dress.

Firstly, this is another dress that looks far better on the waifish model, than it does on my roly poly* figure. But, it is tres comfortable! Really thin jersey and the empire waist tie is very adjustable. Plus, the straps are thick enough to cover my bra! Surprisingly, for me, it doesn't show cleavage! The drawback to this dress - it emphasizes my rather large posterior. We're talking "baby got back". But, I figure, it's my own fault so I needed to work with it.
Well, I decided to schlepp down to Great Scott in this little dress (with some teal flip flops and a teal bag) for The Automatic show. The place was pretty dead, but the dress was great because I was climatically comfortable (? Um, yeah, I mean that I didn't get too hot or cold) and I could still dance around to the Automatic. Nothing of much consequence happened, but the adorable drummer (thick-framed glasses and shaggy hair) did gesture for me to come talk to him and said, "You're not from Boston!" I was a little surprised by this statement, but then the roadie came up to me too and when I replied that I was from Southern California, they said, "Yep, you have a California accent." Whatever that means. Anyways, the long and short of it, I had the attention of some adorable Welsh boys until I was rudely whisked away by my protective friend Mike, who didn't want me to walk home alone at half past midnight.
Did I get the attention because of the dress? I'll never know. But, I'm glad I have this in my wardrobe.


*Thank you, Mindy Kaling!

The LBD Files, Part 2

I'm taking a poetic liberty here and using "LBD" to stand for Little Blue dress in this instance.
Previously, I extolled the virtues of the little black dress. We're going to detour a moment to talk about a particular little blue dress. (There will be stories involving the three other colors that I have this dress in).

Well, this past Friday, I had another "date" with the Professor. I had recently purchased another black dress that arrived in time for the date, but when I slipped it on, I realized two things: 1. It looks far better on the mannequin. I really looked like the "before" picture in a weight loss ad. I had some ideas to make it work, but 2. It's 60% polyester! The thick, non-breathable material was not working on the incredibly humid night we were having. So I opted for the blue dress.
In case I haven't mentioned it before - I love the Billabong Milena dress! It is so so so comfy and really cute. I feel that's it's casual enough to hang out in, but flirty enough to wear out for a day/night on the town. Well, unfortunately, I did not get to wear this dress out of doors last Friday as the Professor saw fit to pull it off me a mere ten minutes after arriving and we did not emerge from our "den of shame" for 17 hours. But, he did say that it looked really nice on me. :)

I end this rather short tale with a favorite quote: "A dress makes no sense unless it inspires men to take it off of you." - Francoise Sagan

The LBD files

For those of you not savvy: LBD = little black dress. Allow this tale to begin with one LBD and where it led me to. (Sadly, the dresses I am about to describe are no longer on the web, so I cannot provide pics) .

I ventured out one steamy evening in my black and gray Free People jersey dress. I'm going to try my best at a description: black jersey babydoll, knee length, with gray stitching that crosses the front and wraps around the empire waist and ties. Also, very low cut in the front and back - but would you expect anything less from me? Anyhow, I rocked this little number all throughout the winter with a pair of brightly colored leg warmers (courtesy H&M), my canvas maryjanes and a scarf. The jersey may have been a little heavy for a July evening in Boston, but I preferred to think of it as "summer black" and threw on a pair of Roxy flip flops and modestly wrapped a pashmina around my decolletage on the way to the Paradise to see Maximo Park. I accessorized with my "Bulletproof" necklace and a lovely maroon ribbon in my hair (a gift from Anne-Marie). Well, let's just say this dress worked it magic that night. I attracted the attention of numerous gents (even Dave Duncan, who is known in our tight knit circle my much less flattering names) and a gaggle of Brits. Out of the Brits, 4 stand out: Stephen (forever to be known as the Professor), Ollie (the Research Scientist) and Paul and Mike (the travelers). I managed to hold the attention of Stephen and Ollie throughout the night (with careful eyelash batting and twinkling smiles) but ended up leaving the club with Paul and Mike. Mike, audibly expressed how much he liked my dress and the way it showed off my assets, but Paul was the victor, as I took him home with me.
In addendum, I had a "date" the following week with the Professor and, in an effort to appear casual, wore my little black tank dress (mentioned in a previous post) with a white tank and red flops and the tree necklace from Laura. He later confessed to me that he rather likes my dresses, having only seen two of them.

The moral of the story - never underestimate the power of a little black dress.

SarahRock Must-Haves #1

So, as much as I love clothes and fashion, I'm kind of a slack-y dresser. I actually have no patience to put a lot of energy into an outfit. If it takes more than 5 minutes, I really can't be bothered. Thus my love for sundresses, because they are fun all in one. However, this is not a post about sundresses. This is a post about my favorite article of clothing, perhaps ever: The Hanes™ Men's A-shirt. Yes, a wife-beater is my favorite piece of clothing.

When the ribbed tanks came back, so to speak, I often found that layering two from Old Navy was too bulky. So I went searching for something else. And boy did I find it! In a 3 for $6 pack at Target. One thin wife-beater (such a terrible terrible name) with a fun pink one on top worked much better for me. And the uses began to pile up. These are great for that just-enough extra layer under a sweater on cooler days and perfect for lounging around the house when you should be doing something else or a bathing suit cover-up. Also, my office hovers closer to the casual end of the "corporate casual" spectrum, so you know, pop one under a jean jacket or a cardy and a skirt and I'm out the door. Plus, the boyfriend thinks they're sexy, and that doesn't hurt.

Magnets for your face.

In my lifetime, I've probably used over 5,239 different products on my face -- washes & scrubs, acne creams, moisturizers, masks, etc. I'm on a constant search for the be-all and end-all of each, and I have yet to stumble upon a single face wash or toner that I can comfortably use for the rest of my life. I'm assuming this has something to do with the fact that our skin cells change completely every seven years, or maybe I just have the most fickle complexion in the world; but regardless, I am a face product whore. I'll try something for a week or two, it won't work, and I'll move onto the next. That's just the way it goes.

However, due to a serious lack of funds, I've had to start looking back at products that I've bought in the past and maybe didn't really give a chance. Like this Natural Oceanic Clay Ionic Mask from The Body Shop. I bought this years ago because I thought it sounded neat: clay particles and sea minerals derived deep from exotic oceans that contain negatively charged ions that react with the dirt and oils in your skin much like the south pole of a magnet would react to the north. I'm no scientist, but I do know that sounds awesome.

You're supposed to leave this stuff on for about 20 minutes or until fully dry, then wash it off and see your pores magically cleared. Perhaps at the time of purchase I didn't leave it on long enough (I tend to be impatient when it comes to magically clearing my pores, so I'd just wash it off the minute it felt dry) but at first, I wasn't a fan of the product. Didn't really think it did anything. Recently, however, I decided to give it another go -- giving it the full 20-minute treatment this time. And now, with a new sense of determination, I realize that, with time, it does work: you can actually see the places where the mask is attracting the dirt as it hardens. Wow. Had I have been patient enough in the past, I might have been able to forgo years of acne agony and pore problems.

I use it about once a week, and I can definitely see a difference. While it doesn't help reduce the size of your pores (and I still get major blackheads on my nose), my skin does seem generally clearer, especially after the first few days of using it. It dries out your skin a bit, so I wouldn't recommend using it more than once a week, unless you have killer tough skin from living out in the Arctic for ten years or something. But if you supplement it with a moisturizer (I use the CVS versions of Olay's Regenerist product line) all is well.

I'm not quite ready to go out and become a model for a facial spa boutique, but I'm content, at least for the next seven years.

Escape from the Witch Shopping Mountains

Let me just preface this post with this: Shopping in Switzerland is terrible. You wouldn't expect that, with all the money stashed in those Swiss bank accounts, but it totally sucks. Even basic stuff is outrageously expensive and there isn't a range of stores, it's either H&M or Prada. Not that I don't love Prada. But I can't afford to go knocking on Muiccia's door everytime I itch for a new frock. And there is no sense of individual style here. The younger girls look like they just walked out of Hot Topic and as they get older their taste don't get more sophisticated, it just gets more conservative and more...beige. I've never seen such a beige city that claimed to be metropolitan.

So this weekend I escaped to London.

I had to get the fuck out of dodge, pardon my French. To some, London is a land of great culture and sights, but some of us know the true reason for its existance is shopping. I was taken by the hip outfits worn by the girls standing outside the pubs as I was driven into the city. Color! Funky patterns! I couldn't wait to get into those stores.

My first stop was actually the BlissSpa London and now I'm addicted to several products that I really can't afford on a regular basis. The Plum Plum Body Butter is SO creamy and yummy smelling. And the girl who waxed my eyebrows was pretty convincing that I should be using the body scrub so I'm sure that's important too...I tried not to make the pounds to dollars conversion as I signed the credit card slip.

Conveniently on my way back to the tube station, I hit Paul Smith. I walked in, looked at the jewelry cases, pointed at two things and had them rung up before anything else could start calling out my name.

Somehow I found myself on Oxford Street...kind of like 5th Avenue in NYC...only ickier. But it's where the big stores are, including the flagship Topshop. Which is where Kate Middleton shops. Ergo, if I shop at Topshop, then I too will date the future king of England. Or, dress like I can? Or whatever. But it did supply print sundresses, one of which scandalized my co-workers today because it contained more than one color.

Aside from the new Tina Brown book about Princess Diana, which supposedly is scandalous, and a couple of fun magazines, those were the highpoints of shopping in Londontown for the weekend. Not a bad couple of days, to be honest. Should stave off the shopping beast for awhile....