Shore Thing

At some point in the beginning of the second season of "Jersey Shore," I was watching an episode with my sister and I had a moment of frightening clarity. I realized that, if plied with copious amounts of alcohol and then presented with the opportunity, there is a 75% chance that I would hook up with castmember "DJ" Pauly D. In the moments that followed that realization, I of course had to do an in-depth psychological analysis of myself. For one, the man is definitely on Valtrex. For two, there is a good chance a single strand of his hair would bruise me. But I watched the season finale last night and you can't escape the fact that there is something charming about the little sucker, even when he is screaming in tongues from the depths of a gurgling hot tub. Like all of the other castmembers, he operates on pure intuition and by intuition I mean sex drive. But there's something a bit diamond in the rough about him, such as, if he was sequestered in a room for the rest of his life with access to only one attractive woman who speaks in full sentences, he might be completely content. Also, I have a thing for tattoos. So there's that.

Desperate Housewife

When I was a little girl, I begged my mother for store-bought Halloween costumes, the kind that all the other kids are wearing that came in a plastic bag and fastened with a string at the base of the neck. I found something so simple about them, so convenient. And of course I wanted to be like everyone else. But each year my mother insisted I push the boundaries a bit, go for the unexpected. So in other words ALL of my costumes were homemade and, looking back, they were awesome. I will spare the details, but one year I was a bag of groceries which consisted (mainly) of a large cardboard box with a hole cut in the top for my head. These days, I still try and get creative, but it's more about discovering an alter ego, a personna that, while it doesn't come naturally, might be fun for a night. This year it's Betty Draper (see the inspirational dress above, courtesy of modcloth.com), which is (I hope) about as far from my actual personality and (I know) personal style as you're gonna get. So fun to play dress up.

Well Heeled

I'm gonna go ahead and coin a new fashion term here: the bumpie. A "bumpie" would be the combination between a bootie and a pump, a slightly more covered heel, if you will. I know there's something flying around the internets called the "shootie" but I'm not so sure I'm sold on that one. Shoe + bootie sounds like it's one step above a Converse high top in my opinion. Like a jodphur. Or an ankle-height loafer. In other words, not cute. The above bumpie is from Loeffler Randall ($475, loefflerrandall.com) which is a genius brand for several reasons, not in the least of them being that they know a mid-height heel needn't look geriatric. I love this shoe, excuse me, bumpie. It takes the frumpy secretary out of the pump without trying too hard.

The Don

So how are we feeling about Don Draper these days? Me, not so much. I've never been a huge fan. Mad Men, like. Don? Next. Although I don't think we're really supposed to truly like Don now, are we? Unless we're an emotionally unstable female with daddy issues or Scott Disick. That said, his arc as of late has been exhausting to say the least. Up and down, up and down, back to square one, up and down, seemingly no growth. Even the slightest moment of clarity is basically imperceptable and at the end of the day we're left feeling like this one is a lost cause so why follow him around with puppy dog eyes eh? He's like that guy who keeps making plans and then spacing on them, and then sending ridiculously terse text messages at inappropriate hours (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) that basically mean nothing at the end of the day. And it's all kind of like, blah, shall we move on to someone with a backbone and a set? I think we shall.