I shopped like it was my job today.
Was talked into more underwear by a very nice sales person at Soma. Bought some super cute shoes. Bought a blue dress so I will have something to wear at affairs of state with the blue hair . . . because frankly, it's a little hard to pull off blue hair at affairs of state and that's what I always did with the red. I would just wear a pretty red dress and assume that everyone would be impressed with my color coordination. And let me just tell you, they carried the dress in black . . . and I didn't buy it. (and pink, and white . . . but we all know that my body rejects white)
Oh, and some new lip gloss to go with the blonde hair. Problem with changing your haircolor every six weeks . . . you have to go buy different lip gloss. And I talked to the wrong sales person at the MAC counter. I think she was there for . . . I don't know . . . my mother. Because when I started babbling at her about what kind of color I wanted -- "Pink. But not fuschia pink. Frosted pink. You know, like, 1950's with platinum hair pink? Really, really light pink and not too sheer." -- She looked at me like my mother would look at me. That stop-talking-so-fast-and -crazy sheen in her eyes. But I was busy digging in my purse for the other three vials of pink lip gloss, so I wouldn't end up with the same color. "So not this one. And not Viva Glam IV. Boy, that is not pink. It looks like pink, but it really isn't. It's kinda beige-pink lip colored. Not at all what I wanted." Then the woman started pursing her lips, so I stopped. We eventually worked it out but she really wants me to wear lip liner all over my lips . . . which I never bother with . . . and, as I assured her, I already have three lip liners, thank you. But did have an enchanting conversation with the other woman, who sent the mom lady on break, about the coloring of one's hair and the upkeep of bright colors. UV protectant dominated the conversation.
After all my finds, I went to Westborn to get dinner, feeling slightly guilty because Trader Joe's is across the street . . . and the general population should not ever go to Westborn, according to Bop-Bop. But they have these great zucchini and feta pancakes. Already made and everything. So half-fill a cart with too expensive random groceries (mozzarella cheese, tomatoes, fat-free whipped cream in a can, Greek yogurt, more cheese . . . an assortment of pre-made salad) and when I get to the register I am told that I have to have cash or a check. That the computers are down. (It did rain like hell) Well, I never have either. So no groceries for Emily. Sadness.
So had a hamburger instead.
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4 comments:
Well, I must ask, what affairs of state will you be attending this summer? - Princess
Quite frankly, wasn't planning to have any. But you never know when something might come up. Not planning for affairs of state guarantees that something will spring up. And I haven't gone wig shopping yet. And what if the wig looks like . . . well, a wig?
Hey, I bought a blue dress. Which is moderately out of character for me.
Let me know when you buy a white one or brown shoes.
There will be no brown shoes . . . I would consider buying white shoes for the right outfit, but brown shoes would be an sign of the apocalypse.
And I did try on the white version of the dress, but again my body rejects white.
Actually, the reason I don't where white? Simple. White stains easier. And I always have something . . . paint, dirt . . . the last time it was bicycle chain oil. Ask my mother, it drives her crazy.
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