Typepad has an ad on the dashboard wondering why I was giving away the milk for free...when I could be having blog ads? I find the idea vaguely insulting. It's like--why are you slutting up the blogosphere like that, when you should settle down and get gay married to You Suck At Craigslist?
Looking through some old family photos from my grandmother Nan Wainwright, my business partner Cheu kept saying--hey, you wear that now! Indeed, roughly 60% of my clothes are consciously Nan-style. That's why this summer, I'll be rocking the Tretorns, with socks that have little pink pom poms on them. Impossibly high-waisted vintage Lily Pulitzer pants, a full arm of (tasteful) gold bracelets, a dome-shaped cocktail ring and a killer tan: check, check, and check.
Nannie on the beach, back in the day.
At my aunt Laura's HS (?) graduation.
Nannie was big on brooches, and scarves.
And bourbon, Nannie was real big on that too. She made a good Chex mix. And do you know what's so annoying, on the side of the Chex box they have the recipe for "original" Chex mix, and it calls for mini-bagel chips. What kind of historical revisionism is that?