Yep, It's Here

Fall, bay-bee. It's creepin' up on us like parking lot rapists. As a Chicagoan, I've got to accept that we'll soon be knee deep in slush and misery, so I may as well lubricate the esophagus with retail to swallow the bitter pill.

As is customary for a person with my interests and problems, there must be at least two coat purchases this fall, but what and from where exactly? Ahhh ... let the mighty shower of wool, big buttons, and zippers begin!!!!

A slew of Soia & Kyo creations, all highly coveted, all just cheap enough to be bought. I'm telling you ladies, if Mackage or your other favorite coat designer is on that BS pricing jive, S & K gotchu, boo, trust. *solemn face* Peep the loveliness below and tell me that you can't envision yourself frolicking through the rough Chicago winter in one of these. Huh? I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!!!

Sonia Rykiel's diffusion line ain't all crap. This coat is just plain adorable, especially for those of you who are afraid of real color and desire to visit the dry cleaners a lot. It sounds like I'm hating, but that can't be helped. I do like this coat despite my tone.

Buy It

And lastly, a beautiful confection of brightness and buttons. Orange remains my favorite color, and the fashion industry's insistence on purple can suck it. By the way, it's TIBI.

Buy It

She's Addicted © N.W.A.

So last time I talked about a gorgeous pair of Dries van Noten pumps I got for a stunningly low price and offered the best photo I could find to showcase them. Well ... those snatched-from-the Internet photos do no justice to the true beauty of my new favorite shoes (until the Marcello Toshis arrive, more on that later). Check the technique, suckers!

I'm wearing them as I type. Love is a new shoe.

Just recently, I discovered yet another designer that may usurp my beloved Chie Mihara, if they are as comfortable and well-made as reported. Just yesterday I spoke with my enabler, Rachel, and we discussed the inability of a girl obsessed to get a pair of Marcello Toshi shoes in this city. Fast forward to today. I'm minding my own, innocently searching the web for shoes, when I happen upon a pair for 80 percent off. I had to have them.

Check my soon-to-be-favorite shoes.

Aren't they fab?

I wanted the ones below, but they didn't have my size.


And I may just get these too.

consumption sure is sweet

so it's been a few days since black friday (you know, that frenzied consumer's dream the day after thanksgiving). i, as usual, came up. let me quickly list the things i purchased for myself:

19" lcd flat screen television ($179)

kodak 6.1 megapixel digital camera ($98)

jensen ipod compatible alarm clock ($28)

hewlett-packard scanner, copier, printer ($48)

the office (us version), season 1 ($9.99)

memorex cd/dvd player ($24)

virgin mobile two-way, web browsing cell phones ($9.99)

40 pack AA batteries ($2)

8 pc stainless steel mixing bowls ($9.99)

black & decker family sized griddle ($19)

512 MB memory cards ($7)

queen sized air mattress ($17)

hand mixer ($3.50)

I think that's about it. There may be random, forgotten purchases, but you get the idea. I also purchased a few things for my mom, brother and dad, but those are their things, so forget about those.

I love shopping. I am an avid, and addicted, consumer. Most of my family memories exist against the backdrop of malls or cars on the way to malls. Every single weekend, my dad would pick my brothers and me up and we'd go to a mall--Evergreen, Ridge, Lincoln, Orland Square--it didn't matter; we spent many precious bonding moments in dens of pure consumerism. Since I can remember, we have always woken at ungodly hours the days after thanksgiving and christmas to rush big box stores for product. The rallying cry was always the same--"Buy first, ask questions later." We'd always leave the Best Buys, Circuit Citys and Walmarts with many more televisions (yes, plural), printers, computers, game systems and various other electronics than we actually needed. Only when we had returned home and unloaded the stuff from the vehicles (yes, vehicles) would we ponder the need for these things. After a few years, we'd developed a fleet of shoppers throughout the family: My dad, my mom, my brothers and I would travel in one car; my cousin Wilma would travel alone in her own car; Nate, another cousin, would also be ready in a vehicle of his own. Together, we'd create strategies for hitting the most important stores and getting the most amount of product:

"Wilma, you get as many 32" televisions as you can. Nate, you're our laptop man. Grab as many as you can. We'll handle the playstations."

So, you see...my incessant shopping, my arriving home with shopping bags three to four days out of the week, really isn't my fault. I was made this way. I was raised on the satisfying high of the purchase. I cannot stop. Shopping is my drug, my confidant, my friend. I must continue to purchase or I'll withdraw into a coma of dissatisfaction. My things, my beautiful things, must continue to be amassed. They belong here, in my closet, on my floor, under my bed, out on the porch. It's the only way, you see. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have to go. I have to find a place for my third television.

(on a more serious note, rest in peace mrs. shirley washington. you fed me pork n beans when my mother wasn't home and was always so nice about complimenting me on my dodgy, oily skin. you always reminded me of tina turner for some reason. i can't believe you're gone.)