I AM Auntie Mame....

 Big Freaking News: The Boy's sister and her husband are expecting a child. And, since this is my blog,  which means everything is about me, that means that I can now expect to be an aunt! An aunt! Aunts are important! I've loved all of my aunts! I'm so excited I could pee*.

When discussing possible monikers, I wasn't satisfied with the typical Aunt/Auntie Sarah options. There was something lacking. Then I remembered what I've been periodically bellowing at The Boy for the past few weeks:


I. am. Auntie. Mame. 

If you have not witnessed the cinematic brilliance that is Auntie Mame, stop reading this and go watch it now. I'll wait.  It's on Netflix Watch Instantly so it will be easy-peasy-don't-be-sleazy.

It may be subtle as a blow to the head and 45 minutes too long but it is also the singularly most influential film on my life and style since Roman Holiday. It was made in the 50s about the 20s, so there's bright colors, loud patterns and headwear up the wazoo. To prepare for the child-to-be**, I've put together a small list of what it takes to be Auntie Mame.
Note: I have not been sponsored by any of the following companies, nor do I own any of the following items. In other words, if you want to buy them for me, I'll be your best friend forever because I fucking love presents.

Loud Pants

Inspiration

Actualization

Pants via Zara 79.90

Pants via Zara 79.90

Inspiration

Actualization

Pants via Zara 59.90

Pants via Anna Kaci 26.90

Luckily, Mame-appropriate legwear is experiencing a resurgance in the fashion world. Pajama sets, sequin pants, patterned pants, and matchy-matchy suits are all the rage. Example A: this H&M window.  

Go forth and lose all sense of subtlety. 

Fantastic Hats

Inspiration

Actualization

Hat via EBay 28.00

Hat via Modcloth 29.99

   

Inspiration

Actualization

Hat via Modcloth 34.99

Hat via ArtFire 31.90

Every year, I (and several other magazines) declare hats to be the newest It accessory, as though it's breaking news that hats are amazing. So, I'm just going to adapt a pro-hats stance year round.

A Cigarette Holder

 Inspiration
Every other minute of Auntie Mame. Have you watched it yet?

Actualization

Item via EBay

Item via RubyLane 75.00

I don't smoke, but I do hold a fake cigarette to go with my bourbon or coffee whenever I write and now I think it may have to go in a chic as fuck holder. Also excellent for gesticulating. 

All fashion related ramblings aside, though, I am so happy for the expecting parents. They are rock stars, and their kid is so lucky he chose them. They also come with a crazy big tribe of endless support and love, including this pleased as punch aunt. Now someone get me a damn glass of punch. 

*And I've only had to breathe into a paper bag once. Because, you know, aunts are important. And I'm a little afraid of babies. It's the soft spot.
**Who, in honor of another idol of mine, will be known forthwith as Schlomo. 

Inspiration: Phyllis Diller

One of the greats died yesterday, at a time when women desperately need pioneers*.  She was an awkward, loud, garish beacon of light for awkward, funny and loud girls everywhere; breaking into a field that's dominated by men to this day.

Diller made it in comedy at a time when, as her protegee, Joan Rivers, said, "you had to look funny to be funny" and that's true. Diller failed to live up to the expectations set for women and that provided her with ample material to poke fun at. But she also had to make fun of herself because society has several choice words for women who dare to make fun of anything else.

I was at an open mic last night where I saw a wide spectrum of bravery and cowardice: comics who lashed out and were mean just for the sake of being mean and comics who were unflinchingly honest and brave, if only for a 5 minute set.  I hate to categorize people, but the mean comics, who said cruel things about people who were different from themselves, were all white, frat-boy handsome men. They made fun of others because they were never taught to question or devalue themselves. The honest comics were the ones who were outside that median in some way: they were gay, or a minority or female. Being on the outside often inspires people to erect** a comedic wall of defense: a desire to make fun of ourselves before someone else does it for us.

And maybe that's all making fun of oneself is: a defense mechanism. But I still think it's brave and hard to do well. And Diller did it well for over 50 years.

How to Dress Like Phyllis Diller:

Wear whatever the fuck you want. 

*Blerg.
** This word makes me giggle.

Inspiration and Interpretation: Punk

Almost all of my friends in high school went through a goth and/or punk phase, and I totally loved it. The tattered t-shirts and jeans with Chucks, or the striped tights with Lolita heels and red or black lipstick. I just dabbled. I had a pleather item or two in my closet. I wore Rolling Stones t-shirts with messy eye makeup. But, really, I didn't have a long enough attention span to be goth and I wasn't apathetic or angry enough to be a punk. I was, however, oddball enough to wear a lime green trench coat with a head full of butterfly clips. But that's a whole different story.

The great thing about being a grownup (besides cake for breakfast) is that I can play dress up for a day and not worry about whether anyone thinks I'm a poser, even if they probably do.

Inspiration

Goddamn, I love this woman.

Goddamn, I have mixed feelings about this band.

Interpretation

 Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go talk myself out of adding studs to everything in my closet.

Inspiration/Interpration

When I was a teenager I loved old, classic movies. Bringing Up Baby, Breakfast at Tiffany's, How to Marry a Millionaire and, especially, Roman Holiday were a few of my favorites. And I loved that larger-than-life style and the gorgeous clothes and hair.

I'd watch them over and over again just trying to soak in some of the glamour and the ease in their beauty. As if seeing Audrey Hepburn wake up in her pretty little eye mask over and over again could somehow make my bedroom that apartment in New York and make my hair look like that when I woke up.

And every morning (or afternoon) I painstakingly drew dramatic cat-eye lines on my eyes and wore my oversized sunglasses and headscarves and large swooping skirts and heels. I imitated these women as closely as I could, and I swayed between loving my Marilyn curves and pining for an Audrey stick figure.

Now, I am simultaneously more and less like my idols than I was as a yearning kid. I don't wear that distinctive eye makeup everyday and I don't always look like I stepped out of a McCall's 1950s catalogue. But I do have a funny eyemask and cat of my own. And I have quirky little phrases and pet names for everyone. I've stepped into my own and developed what I think is a distinct, constantly evolving sense of style that no longer imitates anyone. And that's what I so admired about these women and their characters.

Of course, I'm still heavily influenced, and so is the fashion world. But I'm learning to toe the line between imitation and interpretation. Where I imitated as a teenager I'm trying to interpret and make my own now. Here are a few examples:
      

How much do I love that dress with those heels?

I've been shy about monochromatic outfits but may order some white converse to learn...

I love the big watch with the ladylike coat...

What are some habits you've kept but toned down since high school?

Camus on a Snowy Morning

"In the midst of winter, I found 

there was, within me, 

an invincible summer"

-Albert Camus

Image Courtesy of Sprinkle Diary

I'm going to go ahead and start chanting this in times of snow and ice. I think it's an improvement over my current mantra:

"I hate this snow. I fucking

hate this fucking snow.

Fuck this fucking snow."

-Me