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CONFESSION: Last week I received a call out of the blue: Would you like two tickets to the opening night for A Christmas Carol? Why, yes, of course I would! I suppose it was a reward for good parental behavior (I donated several bottles of wine to the holiday auction) or perhaps for my offspring’s own stellar academic performance, regardless, the petite and I left the tomboy at home on a freezing Tuesday night and embarked on a mission in the heart of Union Square to the Geary or A.C.T. Theater (depending on a number of variants or preferences).

Not wanting to freeze my arse off yet insisting upon paying respect to the performances sartorially, I chose this glam-but-officious outfit, topped with leather gloves and a heavy wool pea coat. I haven’t seen the play since I last evolved politically,  but it was wonderful nonetheless. Very spooky and lively and pretty to look at and modernized for today’s ADD-addled audiences. During intermission, the petite and I sipped Orangina and champagne respectively, and it was a splendid evening.

PS. The socks are from Bloomingdale’s or Saks or something, and the fur is vintage. Of course.

PPS. WTF re: my skinny arms? I am convinced it’s the heavy velvet wide-leg pants skewing perspective, because NO.

When: Thurs., Nov. 20th, 2008.

What: Train t-shirt by Fun-Tees, vintage. Dry aged denim by James Cured by Seun Jeans.

Scent: Gucci by Gucci EDP! (Just to clarify, everything reviewed thus far has been EDP. Well, it matters.) The description from Sephora is a mouthful, so here are the notes for this particular Chypre: Guava, Pear, Tahitian Tiare Flower, Musk, Honey, Patchouli. That’s all well and good, but when I put this on all I feel is like I am a simple country girl swinging on a tree rope barefoot and the only thing that matters is that the sky is blue, the birds are singing and I am alive. (That is a very good thing.) For all those elements, that is the final note for me. It’s lovely. Alas, I let some Saks gay talk me into buying Burberry’s The Beat (to be reviewed at a later time) instead of this, and I regret that deeply. I don’t know what it is, but it’s just so soft and natural, like sweet hay or a dewy morning or burying your face in your lover’s skin with the sun beating down on you at the Pacific. Comfortable, but deliciously so.

Confession: I’m mostly joking with this outfit, I mean, I don’t want y’all to worry. I’m still going to bring it, but today I spent three hrs. deep-conditioning my hair and appx. 1.5 hrs. soaking in a lavender bath with Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace and a glass of champagne. I also made, entirely from scratch, the most delicious fucking beef brisket stew ever. It was perfect. So, re: this outfit in which I don’t even bother to wear shoes, I feel that I earned it!

Anyway, I don’t own too many t-shirts that aren’t, like, band shirts. This one with the train is M’s favorite. I’m not sure why. Perhaps because it’s so terribly old and worn that it’s practically see-through. It is very soft and comfortable, I’ll admit. I stole it from my stepdad’s lakehouse at least 14 years ago, which means that it’s at least twice that old. (I’m guessing about as old as the vintage Playboys that were always laying around there, too.)