A Lady: There’s a Vera Bradley sale on Rue La La today. I am torn between buying and burning all the stock, and slitting my wrists.

D: Bonfire of the uglies!



Between bouts of popcorn eating, Lip Service watching, and flea marketing during my long weekend in New York, A Lady and I went to East Harlem to swoon over the Notorious and Notable exhibition at the Museum of the City of New York.
(Pro tip: getting anywhere in NYC on the day of the marathon will be an exercise in patience. Oops, bad planning.)

A Lady is still dying over Isadora Duncan's dress in the show; my little heart goes pitter-patter for Marian Anderson's blue dress. So, um, if these pieces mysteriously disappear from the museum anytime soon, we had nothing to do with it, promise.



A quick scene from this weekend:

A Lady and I are scoping out various flea markets in New York, with the following exchange was muttered between us whenever a particularly attractive item was noticed.

Person One (interchangeable): "Hm, this is quite nice, but..."
Person Two: "You know, in Midwest Hometown, this would be found for $4/free/in immaculate condition."
Person One: "When I go back for Christmas, I am thrifting the hell out of Midwest Hometown."



You guys, A Lady is making me breakfast right now, and I am wearing a pair of her fuzzy slippers.
Yes, awesome.



I am sitting in my apartment, looking over my "things to spend money on while in New York" spreadsheet, and avoiding making eye contact with the pile of clothing I have considered and rejected packing.
(Is this pile as tall as my bed? Yes, perhaps, it may be.)

What does one
weaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar for a long weekend with one's most sartorially splendid friends? I chafe at the idea of not having my full closet full of Options for outfit re-thinking and re-tooling. (We will ignore the fact that I am very likely to buy a whole bunch of clothes in NYC, which could solve the wardrobe dilemma right there, but one can never count on this. I mean, what if the only clothing I buy ends up being, like, two pairs of boots and seven sweaters and no pants?)

BAH. This is sending me into a spiral of "I have nothing to wear, and I hate all my clothes, and I should just wear a bathrobe and never leave the house again because hey that worked for J.D. Salinger, right?". Which is objectively silly, considering I have two closets full of lovely clothing, but THERE IS NO REASONING WITH CLOTHING PANIC.

Truly, what does one wear? Because I am staring at one black knit dress, one pair of black boots, and one black cardigan, and I feel this is somehow inadequate for four and a half days.