make a wish, make a list

Book catalogs, course catalogs... life is measured out, not in coffee spoons but in lists. Ten reasons I love my country. five flowers to plant this summer. books I want to bring on vacation. countries to visit. boys in order of cuteness. recipes to try. layette lists. packing lists - the first one of these was in a brochure for summer camp, and included the ominous words "musical or sports equipment." I was seized with the urge to tell someone I was a prodigy on the bass fiddle, in the hope that it would get me a larger cabin space, then realized that someone might actually ask to see the fiddle.


There's a reason a Genie only gives you 3 wishes: Genies don't do lists. 

I've had at least one Wishlist since before the word existed, or at least since I looked at Christmas toy catalogs and sounded out the words I didn't get right away. And this one and this one and this one and this one-- Little Me, age 3 --You take it away from her, Big Shot, you're the one who thought it would be fun to see if she could  read! -- Mommy Flintstone, age 32

So that shows you that while I was not drawn to catalogs that showed clothing, my tiny fingers had a pretty good grasp of the concept. And, unlike real stores, you didn't have to drag your sulky little sister into elevators, I can't see anything but people's bee-hinds and it smells in here and I'm hot and she pinched me! -- Clotilde Flintstone, age 3 -- or sit in traffic smelling auto fumes -- Mommy I'm not kidding I'm really going to throw up! --Little Me, aged about 6.

The clothing in the catalogs generally didn't attract me - real stores (Saks, Bendel's before it became a souvenir shop, Bergdorf's) did not have catalogs. If Mom wasn't up to taking us to stores, she would call Mimi at Wanamakers or Louise at Lord and Taylor and have a bunch of "things for the girls" sent out to be tried on. Mimi or Louise or Anna (Bloomingdale's) or Ethel (B.Altman) would also arrange for returns and exchanges to be picked up. The system worked for school clothes and everyday clothes.

On the other hand, getting us kids dressed up was a noisy and strenuous task. Thus if either Little Clotilde or I needed a dress-up outfit, it was made at home so that the seams could be rolled or Frenched or flat-felled. These are dressmaking techniques that take some of the itch and tickle out of organdy or organza. Wool things were lined. Little Clotilde's skin was so sensitive that she couldn't wear wool at all. She would turn red and her eyelids would swell up and she would sniffle. We had cotton loop carpet in our bedroom, and cotton curtains.

So anyway the next big catalog want-want-want was the Girl Scout catalog, which featured enough equipment to survive the Next Armageddon and then whip up dinner for twenty (One-Pot Meal, anyone?) with a thoughtful souvenir for each guest. --Mommy, what's an entrenchment tool?--Little Me, aged 8-- It's not for Brownies -- Mommy Flintstone, age no longer discussed. Ladies do not discuss their age or their tummies. Ultimately, of course, my prior years of practice in Catalog Discussion paid off and I received a Mess Kit, a Mess Kit Cover, and a Belt Cutlery Kit. Still waiting for the multi-function compass.

I moved on to the Sears Roebuck catalog by accident, it was at the home of a neighbor Mom was visiting and I was acting quite obviously bored. -- Oh, just give her something to read -- Mommy Flintstone, age unspoken, see above -- Can I send away for the chicken house with some eggs to hatch?-- Little Me, age 10 -- It's May I, and Clotilde's allergic to feathers.-- Mommy Flintstone, thinking fast.

With the approach of Junior High came magazines and an interest in What Other Girls Were Wearing. I accompanied Mom (as she now was) to stores. I wished for things that I had really seen. I also learned to try stuff on and judge by The Fit, The Fabric, The Cut and The Work without being deceived by a fancy belt or button that was Tacked On Just Before Shipping. --you need some roses in your cheeks to wear black--Mom, accompanied by chorus of salesladies.
Or, in other words, if you try on the blouse that Carol got and it doesn't look like it looked on Carol, you put it back. You also put back the off-white sweater that looked so cute on Marie but makes you look like you're coming down with something

and then came years of lists that were depressing because they were all of stuff to do, stuff to finish, tasks with deadlines, calls to return, stuff to clean, leads to follow up on, due dates, filing dates… you've made those lists, in your head if not on paper. The List du Jour isn't a collection of little dreams, it's a persistent chant of obligations, don't forget, be here by 7, bring home some paper, buy ink...

I still make lists, but the joy is now not in the making of the list, it's in the tearing it up when enough items are checked off.

Of course a list of reservations to be made will always summon up smiles and dreams!

a very short wishlist

That's it. Ralph Lauren, lambskin. Ooh, did I mention it's reversible?


I die. No, seriously, I have to live until it goes on sale. Many times. Such is the life of a stalker.

a little more loot, a lot more thinking: including updated wish list plus another update

Hmm, some more birthday tribute has trickled into the inbox:

from DSW, a gift certificate which can be combined with up to 2 OTHER OFFERS (listening, J.Crew?)

from Loehmann's, 15% off on all purchases on any single day during August. I plan to wait til the end of the month when there'll be more stock in the store. This birthday discount improves every year; it started as on the birthday, then the day before and the day after, then the whole week of, and now, the whole month!

from bloomingdales.com, 15% off my next web order, good through the end of August.

As the actual birthday draws closer, thoughts turn to what I think i might really, really want - aside from world peace and a few functioning brains in Washington? Himself is replacing a cherished ring that disappeared on our travels. Other family - goofy phonecalls, loving wishes, books and gift cards. But shopping for self these days seems less and less enjoyable and more and more like trying to stretch lunch for 2 into dinner for 6. Doable, but not as much fun as planning a Julia Child tribute dinner with GFs.

Here, then, is what I'm pretty sure I don't want:

Anything that catches my eye and makes me want it and then costs a small fortune buying the rest of the outfit to wear it with. (strange sentence structure, but you get the point) This is what I didn't like about a certain small but chesty doll:

all you could do with her, really, was buy her outfits. And accessories. And - ultimate low - a friend. Toys should not make you sad.

Also: no clothes for lives I don't lead, events I no longer attend, impressions I don't care about making. Out East, I don't go to galas or go celebrity-spotting. Nor do I care if celebrities spot me. I go to the beach, I walk in the woods, I garden, I cook in season and eat out, out of season. Oh, and I go to the library and to outdoor art shows. In the city, tailored jackets and bottoms mix and match much of the time, dressy events are mainly restaurants and the odd wedding or other catered celebration, and there I'm in no rush to add to stock.

Shoes. I can always use shoes. I hope I can make myself do some serious weeding before I bring home any more.

Scarves. When I began traveling, I made myself a promise: no knickknacks, no dustcatchers, and no t-shirts unless utterly, utterly necessary. Instead, I would just get one perfect thing. I bought an Hermès scarf.  I won't admit how many I now have, let's say, uh, some, all loved, all meaningful, all beautiful. And they don't have to be dusted.  They've also made me very demanding of my everyday scarves. I just returned a leopard print wool-blend one to J.Crew. Could use a real sheepskin scarf in a short rectangle.


Long coat. Was considering a deep red one, decided black would be better, less readily identifiable, still want length, high collar, single-breasted, slim cut - picture a Klimt woman waiting at a bus stop, that's the look. Will wait.

No more striped shirts. This time I really mean it.

Festive events: noone would forgive me if I didn't haul out the velvet-and-chintz patchwork long skirt at Thanksgiving, a dark green velvet something at Christmas, ironic black on Valentine's Day, red-white-blue on every patriotic commemoration from Memorial Day to Veterans' Day.

Sadly, I still don't know what to wear on 9/11. This may be the year I ignore that rule about "no legible clothing over age 25" and wear a tee-shirt that says I'M STILL HERE.

Moving on, no more colors carefully blended by art school dropouts that require me to buy $100 worth of makeup to wear. If at all. No good comes of following art school dropouts. Anywhere, anytime.

What are your non-wishes?

Loot update: today's tribute: Macy's -- 20% off on the day of my choice;
Banana Republic -- $15 coupon good through August;
Territory Ahead -- 10% off.
Vidal Sassoon -- 15% off next beauty service, in August.
J.Crew still doesn't call, doesn't write.

my very own wish list

I 've decided to create my own, free-standing wishlist for fall/winter, and to try to remember (a) where it is, and (b) to check it periodically for inspiration and to see if there's anything I'm supposed to be following. A lot of the wishlist will be "aspirational," but I do shop better and spend less if I have a concept in mind.

1. I wish J.Crew would do a version of this lovely and practical bag without taking shortcuts. And without raising the price, please. 
2. Possibly the J.Crew Elsa jacket as a transitional piece. If so, in navy, and in a Tall size. I'm not tall, but I got this idea from ABiggerCloset, who posted that the difference is only an inch or so in length at hem and sleeves, and I actually think this will make the jacket work for me. The jacket's on sale already, so I'm just waiting for a good promo. Thanks, ABC!---update: just looked at it again with promo. don't think so. However, will keep the good idea about Tall sizes.
3. The shoes that the model on the Rugby website (click link) is wearing... possibly with a less teetery heel.
4. A lot from the Theyskens' Theory fall collection. Really a lot. Gray-green velvet long coat, you will be mine. With the darker green velvet pants. Getting my stalking gear ready.
5. For fall/winter: burgundy or cranberry light-weight tailored wool slacks. Will someone please pay attention!
6. Also from the Theyskens' Theory fall collection, the long dark red (not orange thank goodness) trench. Loving: it's red! it has a stand collar! it's long! There are a lot of windy corners where we live, and I really don't see the point of a short heavy winter coat. Not for me, anyway. I might have to stitch up those side slits, though, otherwise could look like a whirling dervish. A cold, wet, snowy dervish. Seriously not loving: the price. We're in stalker country now, people. First I'll go try it on. Then: if there are any left by second markdown, and I have refrained from other temptations, make that from a lot of other temptations, and if there's one left in a size that looks good over winter clothes, um, we'll see. Theory girls tend to have slim backs, the worries of the world are not for them.
7. Speaking of other temptations, I came across this gem, also J.Crew, on FabulousFloridaMommy's blog. It's up on Net-à-Porter, not yet on the J.Crew website. Love the print, it's described as all silk, lined with silk. The dress isn't for me, I don't do above-the-knees in dresses.I considered treating it as a tunic with baggy pants, but I think salwar kameez makes my bottom look fat(ter). So the wish is that J.Crew will make something for me in this delicious silk print. I'm hoping for a tailored blouse. No ruffles, no rompers, no camis. And no spangles.

The list will be updated, continued, edited... I'm hoping the weather stays clear and calm while I'm in town, so I don't have to take any shortcuts through stores. Consolidation sales are drawing to a close.