Do It Yourself Steampunk Wedding Flowers

Steampunk weddings are très chic, but all the advice for bouquets and table arrangements seems to be "put some gears on normal flowers". Gluing gears to things is not the end all be all of steampunk. Let's put a modicum of work into this, shall we?

The do it yourself is because I am frugal. Or, you know, cheap. And the money you save on flowers can be better spent on good food, pretty clothes, and not debt. However, if you are short on time and have elaborate plans, read this before hiring a florist. Unless you have the most excellent florist in the world, wandering in and requesting "steampunk flowers" is going to get you a very expensive bunch of peonies- defining your desires before talking to a vendor is a good plan.

Please- if you want to do something, and I say it's a bad idea, don't listen to me! If you want pin a fascinator made entirely of gears into your hair, do so! Smack everyone with a giant bouquet of pink peonies and red roses! Tuck a huge bunch of cypress into your buttonhole because you love the smell! My tips are lifted from Victorian and Edwardian fashion- and blindly following the strictures of a culture that had some pretty horrible aspects is a bad idea. People may tell you that your decisions are wrong, but what do they know? (Incidentally, 70% of wedding guest judgement can be headed off by a.) feeding them something as soon as possible- because while you may be too excited to eat, they are not, and in the process of struggling into fancy clothes and handing kids off to sitters and finding your venue, they may have neglected to eat. The ideal wedding is one with canapes at the ceremony. Also, b.) talk to each and every guest for minutes. Multiple minutes. One of the limits on the guest list should be the number of people the bridal couple can manage to exchange pleasantries with over four hours.)

Onward!

Personal Adornment

It's hard to work flowers into the general mad science milieu of steampunk. There is no earthly reason they would ever have cogs on them, unless cogs were a sort of family sigil. I am also confused about the tendency to wrap everything in wire cages, as if it were a sort of science experiment that might attack the guests at any moment. I could understand if one made cogs and wire into little floral representations- tiny machines that grew and bloomed, but no one seems to be doing that. I think that the best route is to copy the floral styles of the era where steampunk is putatively set; thus we can explore the complex world of Victorian Flower Arrangements.

During Victorian times, weddings were... not more modest, because if one was rich, few things were modest... let us say only twenty percent more elaborate than a standard social event. As such, flowers would come from the usual flower sources: gardens, hothouses, young women selling flowers in the street, and the end results of obsessive craft projects. I don't have much to say about cloth, wax, and paper flowers other than they are entirely accurate, quite pretty, and if you place no value on your own time, quite affordable.

Hothouse flowers are excellent choices- consider orchids, night blooming cereus (probably as a hair ornament), waxflower, tuberoses, amaryllis, and loads of beautiful ferns . Keep in mind that they would be the end product of years of labor and diligent effort from people who did not have to spend effort on anything. Thus, two or three perfect specimens of one kind of flower surrounded by greenery is a wise choice.

If you want armfuls and armfuls of flowers, go for garden plants. Here is a list of common garden flowers- be warned that some of them have inappropriate meanings in the language of flowers- although if you are quite introverted and under significant external pressure to have a large wedding, throwing around aconite might give you some pleasure. Simple bouquets are a perfect choice- here are excellent instructions on how to make your own. Try for flowers that are in season- not only will they be more authentic, but you'll also get healthier flowers. (more on this later on.) Consider old rose varietals- like those found here. Please avoid deep red roses, since that gives us a bit too much information on what the newlyweds are planning after the wedding; it is not quite nice. Other common cutting flowers are irises, delphiniums, and lilies. (Lilies are not just for funerals.) It is entirely appropriate to deck out bridesmaids and groomsmen in flowers that are not so expensive- such as daisies, sunflowers, globe amaranth, and asters. If you want to use little bunches of wheat, thyme, or houseleeks as boutonnieres- oh my goodness, that would be delightful. For fillers and greenery, old standbys are perfect: baby's breath is very very traditional, as is gorse, assorted ferns, fennel, rosemary, and ivy. Victorians were also all about beautiful multicolored coleus- the bronze and red varieties could give a bouquet a wonderful Gothic look. The variegated green and white varieties give a cheerful and fresh impression.

I think the buy-it-from-Eliza-Doolittle version could be rather sweet too- especially for a courthouse wedding. It would be as if one were walking to church for the banns reading and picked up some flowers along the way. Good choices for a boutonniere would be violets, a bachelor's button, or a bronze chrysanthemum. A posey could have lily of the valley, primroses, coreopsis, or daisies. (and ivy. Always ivy.)

I'm going to push heavily that everyone considering a steampunk wedding include orange blossoms and ivy. Ivy is a nice bit of greenery- cheap, durable, handsome, probably strangling one of your friends' gardens- and it symbolizes everything I hope for in each marriage: love, friendship, fidelity, and affection. It's good for you. Orange blossoms were once de rigueur in hair ornaments. While the symbolism of innocence and fecundity is a bit dated, it also symbolizes eternal love and fiscal well being. (The only other plant that symbolizes money is cabbage. I don't think that will be an easy sell.) The orange tree flowers while it bears fruit- thus the fertility association- but I like to think of it as the flower of multitaskers. Moreover, they are elegant, they smell like heaven, and the wax and silk versions look as nice as the real thing. You could either hot glue them to a delicate wreath or string them on a pretty ribbon, following each blossom with a knot. (These two methods and the braiding stems method result in the best wreaths for hair. If you want a fascinator, modify the hot glue technique with a comb or clip.) Either way, do it no earlier than the night before the wedding, and keep them in a refrigerator or cooler until the last minute.

There was some sort of sea change about six years ago, and everyone decided that peonies were perfect flowers for bouquets. Unfortunately, they have a season that is about six minutes long. I'm going to add my voice to the growing chorus advocating cabbage roses- just as pretty, and much more durable. If you must plan on peonies- and for goodness sake, make your reasons sentimental, not aesthetic- have a backup plan. A day of the wedding, paid $90 for a dozen sealed buds backup plan.

Table Decorations

It's tempting to throw giant flower arrangements on each table- and if you can manage to do so, please indulge yourself. It would be historically accurate to have piles of apples, lemons, oranges, pomegranates, strawberries, candies, and chestnuts. This does assume you are from a place where those who linger in the street will end up with a grocery bag stuffed with citrus. (Signs you live in California) Still, using food as a decoration does provide food for your guests- and loaves of bread and wheels of cheese are quite pretty. I'd also like to push vivariums- little living gardens full of inexpensive plants. Dollar stores sell charming wide cylindrical vases and yard sales are full of old fish bowls. Either plant things a couple of weeks before hand so that the weak have time to die and be replaced, or wait until a few days before the wedding so nothing has time to get sick. (Or neglect adding soil at all, and frantically stuff them all the morning before the ceremony. That's what we did. It looked very nice.) During the Edwardian era, people were mad for ferns, so consider several species. Other good choices are cyclamens, irish moss, or violets. Cacti and succulents are another beautiful vivarium. If one wanted a tropical version, orchids or African violets would be striking- with philodendron and spider plants. Add rocks, bark, and whatever tiny landscaping you think is necessary. (One could skip the entire viviarium aspect, and just stick an orchid on each table. This would combine well with a hothouse bouquet.)

Final Notes

Other bits of general do-it-yourself floral advice: don't avoid modern methods of crafting. Hot glue is your friend. In the Victorian era, women making starvation wages would twist flowers into pretty mussie tussies early each morning. A house preparing for a wedding would have servants doing nothing but fussing over the flowers. You have neither the experience or the time to do everything with perfect bows and bits of wire. Secondly, do a dry run. Make sure you know how fragile the stems of your target flowers are, and make a couple of bouquets and boutonnieres weeks before the wedding. Thirdly: delegate. People like working with flowers, and the result is almost always lovely. Reliable friends can be trusted at flower marts, florist are nice people who need to make money too, and a patient eight-year-old could make the ribbon orange blossom wreath. (Or course, you may want a focused task to center yourself before getting married. I sliced about fifty apples and it calmed me tremendously.) Lastly; by necessity, everything must be done incredibly close to the last minute- either the night before or the day of the wedding. Plan for this, and ask someone if they can sweep in if there's another crisis that demands your attention.

If you have questions, please comment on this post. I'll try to help in a timely fashion.

Sea Change

People ask if being married is different. It is! I swear! There are lots of ways, most of them depressing. For instance, more people treat you like your romantic attachments have value!

But at the moment, I'm more interested in my transition from non-toucher to toucher.

I think it was the wedding that desensitized me. The wedding photographs show me hugging an unending succession of people- including a woman who wandered in, took a plate of food, and left. Hugs! And there were Chileans- months after my last visit to Chile, people would hold out a hand and I'd reflexively kiss their cheeks. Now, I just assume I'm supposed to dole out a little arm pat, a comforting hand squeeze. It's like writing thank you notes: significantly easier after the first hundred.

I didn't realize that I'd become a... toucher until last night. We were at a party typical of my hometown- first there was a potluck and lawn games, then there was a drum circle, a bonfire, and a small ceremony honoring everyone who had died this year. You know, Samhain. I gave a reflexive shoulder squeeze to a sobbing neighbor, and realized that I had crossed over to the physical affection side.

Hello, people back on the sane, WASPy side of the divide! I salute you! Please do not sue me for sexual harassment!

I should have seen this coming. This summer, my supervisor and I were standing in a jungle, trying to decipher 35 year old notes on plants about the size of a throw cushion. I had just handed off the map so that I could decamate the mosquito population- and one of them landed on his cheek. So yes, I reflexively slapped my boss- and he has not yet done anything to deserve it.

We Googled "Neruda" and "crying"

I'm spending a week in the city thing near my hometown, housesitting. I'm also working in the office here, doing what I think of as "The sort of mind-flattening nitpicking that makes C so crabby". And unlike the office back home, I can't show up super early, blitzkrieg work until everyone shows up, work a little longer, go buy some sushi, work, take a long walk, wait until everyone's gone and do a little more blitzing. I work best when there's no one else there- even if they're quiet, I can hear them breathing. Instead, I'm stranded in the middle of mini-mall without an office key. I start working when someone unlocks the door and keep working until the last person leaves. I spend a half hour in the mornings sitting in the car, waiting for other people to arrive in the parking lot.

We share our little chunk of strip mall with a lawyer who works mostly on domestic violence cases/drug charges and a dentist. Since our parking lot is poorly lighted, near the freeway, and full of trucks themselves filled with electronics, we are a hotbed of property crime. Yesterday I asserted that the dentist attracted the wrong crowd and was gently set right.

The last note is that our wedding went really well. I mean, uncannily well. I talked to 120 people- many of them Chilean!- and screamed only once. At C. For breathing. I figure someone out there might see a last minute change in ceremony venue as bad, or be upset about potatoes or something, but I'm honestly just thrilled to bits about being hitched. Also, we met our primary goals: we're married, we're not in debt, and no one hates us. Also, we made the Conquistador Lord or the Undead tear up.

So yeah, things have been freaking blissful here, so much that I felt the Chaos Gods would soon demand their due. They currently seem to be satisfied with carrying off the rooster that I was supposed to be taking care of- I pray they leave the dog.

Notes on Gifts

Oh my, a giant bread maker that needs to be plugged into a dryer outlet. How useful!

In other news: special marital sheets are because newlyweds have clearly never cohabitated before and they need nice sheets. I am disappointed and relieved.

Psychic Drunks

I may have noted that Dona C packs like Roosevelt heading up the Amazon. Cuervito clicked his tongue at me, saying I was less that understanding about cultural differences. Other cultures are stupid.

She brought sixteen rolls of toilet paper! 50 pounds of oranges! 300 paper napkins in three different packets! (in case the other two get wet) Twelve cases of bottled water *in glass* to a place that bottles water. Sheets for all the beds in case the current sheets were unacceptable! The entire contents of her kitchen! Also, booze.

They were in town for three days.

Advantages to Wedded Bliss, Part I.

So C and I got hitched. It was very nice, although there were a lot of people. Fortunately, A brought me a white ginger lei- I managed to smell fantastic through six hours of hugging and dancing and flop sweating. Even now, the wilted and crushed lei is holding its own against the other, less pleasant smells in my bedroom.

The most concrete advantage thus far: when I'm watching him sleep, I'm no longer convinced that he'll be stolen away from me because he is so very cute. Advantage to C- no more being shaken awake and told that you need to appear less adorable immediately.

My subconscious is not subtle.

Last night I dreamed that I was eating a plate of radishes. Around the table were many people who are near and dear to me, eating fresh baked chocolate chip cookies.

I was trying to solve a math problem, but everyone else insisted it was impossible. Insurmountable. Then they ate more cookies and told me how tasty my radishes looked.

sigh

You all remember my earlier post about my fake crazy wedding plans. Wanna hear the real crazy wedding plans?

1.) C wants cheesecakes as wedding cakes. I suppose I also want cheesecakes. After considering transport, caterers, making them ourselves, and Costco, one of my friends suggested this guy. I called him. We established that I was a friend of a friend and wanted him to make ten cheesecakes. When we got into specifics, things got a little weird. He asked how big the cheesecakes should be, what flavors I wanted, what price range I was looking at. I said ten inches, lemon or plain, and like $25 each. He said he didn't have ten inch pans, was six OK? And no lemon, but mint, sage, and berry. And he could probably do it for $10. The conversation kept getting stranger until I said "Wait, cheesecakes isn't a euphemism. I want you to make me pastries." There was a pause. "Ten ten inch cheesecakes, plain, for $25 each? That sounds fair. I'll do it. Ignore the other stuff I said."

2.) One of C's great aunts is embroidering us a marriage sheet. I'm no specialist on Chilean culture- all I have to go on here is indelicate speculation, guys.

3.) Things that have happened to my dressmaker since we hired her: husband's heart attack, finish remodeling house, move out of shed into house, party for 200 in her house, daughter gets tonsils out, first grandchild born, roof caves in on shed, secondary infection on tonsil area for daughter, husbands starts suffering from panic attacks which seem a lot like a heart attack every single time, flat tire, and cutting off part of her finger with a circular saw. Option one: dress is cursed. Option two: she hasn't discovered that you can cover up forgetting to do something with unspectacular lies.

4.) C's mother bought a case of wine for us. After we bought more cases (OMG so many monies) she explained that the good wine wasn't for the ordinary guests at the wedding. I, um...

5.) Y'all have probably heard about the napkins, right? My mother and I got into a screaming match because I wanted to use the tablecloths that she collects and she wanted to rent a whole bunch of amber ones that would brush the floor. We got into another because she hates polyester napkins and the only ones you can rent are polyester and paper napkins are just too tacky. Result: we made (she made) 24 tablecloths and 150 cotton napkins. Really.

6.) Every food my mother thinks is fancy is something C hates. Olives, proscuitto, blue cheese, Asiago, cornichons, cheesecakes that are any flavor other than plain... We're two weeks out and still unsure of the shopping list.

Propriety sucks

I've discovered one sure way to damage a rapport with your boss- wait for him to make an assertion, and then laugh and laugh and laugh. Helplessly.

The other day we were trying to get up to a cliff, and he asserted that "this was the most difficult site all summer." I started giggling while asserting that no, it was not. And then I thought of more and more sites, and kept laughing and laughing...

He was (and is) piqued.

See, I camped last week, doing the sort of work that probably was why early Christianity took off. It was gorgeous, it was really difficult, and the only thing that kept me going was the promise of a better world at the end. One with an abundance of showers and beds and a distinct lack of cliffs. I swear, the landscape looked like something out of a Henson film. Also, 60% of my caloric intake was almonds.

Then I went back to the better world and found it a.) everything that was promised and more (oh sweet refrigeration) and b.) full of people who wanted to talk about difficulties with serger repair and large reservations and other viscitudes of wedding planning. No one cared bupkiss about caves and long ridges that are actually knife-edge (I have cuts knife edge) and fossils and fog obscuring all ground with a slope less than 80% so the whole world is cliff and getting back to camp after dark when you left before dawn and realizing that the flashlights are probably back at a cave.

I spent the weekend being 2009 depressed, lying in bed, crying, and snapping at people. (The fact that I was unable to walk without a knee collapsing might be involved.) I am now trying to raise acceptable amounts of interest in making napkins and finding a place to put a last-minute reception dinner. But.

But.

I wanted something a lot less grand, reader. I wanted something simple and small. And if people can't be bothered to fake interest in awesome things, I don't know why I should fake interest in their stupid petty shit. As such, I am always six seconds away from being a horrible bitch.

I like the leis though! Those are nice!

I had to talk and think about wedding plans for at least eight hours today. This evening, every single conversation I had was about some aspect of a nuptials. After dinner, I was standing in the kitchen with my father. He gave me the affixing stare of someone about to impart something essential about dress ruffles, speaking to seamstresses, or making wreaths out of broom corn. I braced myself as he leaned in.

"I've been wondering about the provenience of the type specimen for Nothrotheriops shastensis. The name indicates that it's local, but I can't find evidence of it except in the Southwest."

I love my dad.

And there were cupcakes.

So I was at a wedding this weekend! It was charming.

The groom's extended family is taken with the bride- so much so that they have "hard black shoes" if he manages to screw things up. Adorable welcome to the family! So sweet! I suspect alcohol was involved.

Also, you know the "omygoditsoursong!" squeal, followed by like six ladies dancing like frikkin' synchronized background dancers? Time Warp, people. Entire Band-uh clarinetist section. So much more awesome than standard.

An old dormmate expressed her opinion that wedding planning was not, in fact, difficult. She laid out a basic plan, (invite some people,find a place to have the ceremony...) noted that there were probably lists online that would be helpful, and said that everyone loves shopping for pretty dresses. Señor C laid a restraining hand on my arm, mindful of the fact that we've been discussing (loudly, with yelling) the guest list for the rehearsal dinner for the last two weeks.

"It's actually really easy." I said, "People overthink it. Everyone wants to be unique and clever- the essentials get lost along the way." She nodded happily. Then we started talking about Brooklyn. Apparently, it is just as good as Manhattan, but cheaper.

There was malice involved, sure, but I'm unlikely to convince her otherwise without getting all twitchy-eyed. Also, while getting families from two different cultures to outline their expectations for a ceremony and then accept compromise is difficult* I'm pretty sure becoming a cyborg or recovering from a broken back is more difficult. Hell, picking up and moving cross country is probably harder, there's just less cultural acceptance of yelling.

*OH MY GOD THEY ALL GOT MARRIED AT CITY HALL. WHY THE NEED FOR FLOWERS AND A REHEARSAL DINNER? ALSO IF YOUR BROTHER WASN'T AT YOUR CEREMONY WHY DOES HE HAVE TO COME TO OURS?

and apparently we hired a DJ.

0 for 3

Crap, I think I just accidentally insulted a bride.

I just sent back another wedding RSVP, explaining that C and I were unable to attend. We were sorry, I said, but we hoped to see them both at our wedding.

After sending it off, I found the invitation. It's sent to me and me alone.

It's not a secret if you post it on your blog.

Some time ago I returned from work to find the following note:

"I found your mail from this week. It is under this note. I will be back at seven. Don't spoil your dinner. -Mom"

I rifled through the mail, and then responded:

"Off buying ice cream cone. Back soon."

Feeling that might be deliberately inflammatory, I felt compelled to add a short vignette about the tragedy of the alligator lizard. You see, the alligator lizard lives in environments that are only tolerable if one has ice cream, but the lizard lacks both the ability to purchase ice cream and the ability to leave said environment. It is very sad. I drew a short comic on the backs of various envelopes and cards, detailing the quest for ice cream of a disturbingly anthropomorphosized alligator lizard. I believe at the end, sated by ice cream, he walks into the light- here represented by the gullet of an eagle- able to face his fate with equanimity. Then I bought and ate ice cream. Then I sent back RSVP cards for two weddings.

The next day I realized that parts of the alligator lizard saga were on the back of the RSVP cards.

But I seem to have gotten away with it- I've since talked to the brides in question, and there was no comment about my artwork. Ha ha! Awkward explanation avoided! Illusion of sanity maintained!

Unless they read this post.

The elephant is striking down the dwarf.

Last night I dreamed that that one of my oldest friends- the one who can't seem to remember Señor C's actual name- kidnapped C and threw him a bachelor party. Unfortunately, the bachelor party was after the wedding, and during the reception. I stood there, surrounded by friends, family, and seven thousand Chileans- waiting.

My paranoia is slightly justified as this friend has offered to have such a party. He really likes strippers.

So to preclude such an occurrence, I'd like to propose an alternative event- Señor C gets an entire cheesecake, people sign up on a rota, and we take two hours shifts playing Descent of the Rings in SPACE with him. Sixteen solid hours of one of his obscenely long and complex strategy games. It'll be like Boatmurdered!

If you get that reference, you've just signed up for two shifts.

Me too, me too!

C's screed against Everyman reminded me of wedding planning. Everything does now, apparently.

We were having a guts and grime talk: what's important to us (cake and ribs), what's important to our families (not spending money and being insane), and what we can afford to spend (bupkiss). C, who has obviously been getting tips for grooms who don't want to get slaughtered before the Day, asked me if there was anything special and romantic that I really wanted.

I started tracing patterns on the floor with my toe and not making eye contact.

"Well," I said in a low voice "If you wanted to... If it seems like a good idea..."

"Go on", said Señor C in encouraging tones.

"We could maybe... possibly... go to a lawyer and get joint durable power of attorney."

"..."

"Oh, and living wills!"

"I thought you were going to suggest something romantic!"

"There's nothing more romantic than durable power of attorney."

I stand by that statement. I'm not good at being conventionally romantic- as far as I can see, it's all about blackmailing my partner into buying me things and getting him to stare at me like the creepy dudes at a bar- but I get all gooshy about legal commitments (I did just have a freakout about wedding invitations, but that's because they were horrifically botanically inaccurate. C's future includes a ten minute sit down with the first six pages of the Peterson.)

But Roth. While fidelity is an essential part of my relationships, I don't see it as essential to all relationships. In theory, there are times where cheating is necessary for the survival of a good marriage- but I read Everyman and found it so loathsome that I temporarily believed exactly the inverse of whatever the author professed. It's like the opposite of hearing Bill Clinton speak. C may be biased by the unpleasant.

Oh, and who else hates dinner parties with your parents? It's like an exhibit of all your unpleasant conversational quirks. (Oh please, don't talk about how your job has wronged you. Please don't cut an anecdote about marriage short because you recalled the person we're talking to divorced three years ago. Did you just snub someone for a slight from the '90s?)

I promise it's a joke!

I've decided to run with my joke from two years ago. C just got a truly truly truly crazy e-mail about wording in invitations. I threatened to call off the wedding if he didn't include a comma. I swear it's a joke. Mostly.

First Dance

So I'm trying to find a song for our first dance. We don't really have a song that's our song, because we are bad at schmaltz. I made a list anyway.

"Secret Agent Man", Johnny Rivers. We went to a karaoke party before we were dating and knew we both hated karaoke. And parties. C sang this.

"Infected", Bad Religion. C had a clock/radio/CD player until it mysteriously fell down the stairs and got stepped on when we were moving in together. This was the first song on the CD that played every morning at 7 without fail. I'd always sleep through the first minute or so and have really disturbing dreams. Of course, since the untimely demise of the alarm clock, no one's been able to get C out of bed at 7 again. This song is totally about a relationship, so it's still in the running.

"Barrett's Privateers", Stan Rogers. Sea shanty about getting crippled in a disastrous navel battle! I made C listen to thus until he appreciated it.

"Rivers of Babylon", Sublime or "Sad Songs and Waltzes", Cake. Ah, the discography of college. Also, Sublime's version totally leaves out the threatened infanticide and the slaughter of the speaker, so added points. Really anything from these guys would work, except, you know, it's all wildly inappropriate.

Or from our post college years, "I Crush Everything" by Jonathan Coulton, or "No Children" by the Mountain Goats. We sing these to each other on long car rides. We've figured out how to sing "No Children" as a duet.

So we have crazy person taste in music. Maybe the wonderfully recursive "Do You Want To Be In My Wedding" is the perfect choice here. It's everything I hate about country music and the wedding industrial complex in one neat package.

Alright, if it's socially acceptable to call classy media gleaned from weddings and wedding based photo shoots wedding porn, I'm going to call the adorable websites* couples create wedding slashfic.

*Used to be an independent website, but alas, no more.

It's a wonder they hire me.

Often my job entails walking through a sunny field, staring at the ground. In the summer, the ground in a sunny field is full of grasshoppers. Every time, and I do mean every time, I curl my hands into claws and start stomping theatrically. I yell "TOKYO IN RUINS, FOR GODZILLA LIVES AGAIN! FLEE PEOPLE OF JAPAN, FLEE INTO THE HILLS!"

I do this whether or not other people are around. For those of you wondering if I am capable of shame or theatrics.

My most cogent current wedding plan involves setting the gifts up like a makeshift city, and yelling "BRIDEZILLA APPROACHES! FLEE HER WRATH!"

Dress Shopping

Amy and Bee and I went wedding dress shopping in Sacramento yesterday- Ryan was there too, although I am fairly certain he didn't know what he had stumbled into. It was a sodden miserable day, and we visited every freaking vintage store listed on yelp.

Long story short, they all sucked. I was looking for a fabulous cocktail dress, possibly from decades past. The first store resold disposable fashion. (So much zebra print.) The second had some fabulous coats, and many many beaded things- but I'm thirty years too young to shop there. The third store had been replaced with a bicycle shop, and the fourth....

Well, it sold secondhand lingerie. And bondage gear. And sex toys. And Zoot suits.

No dresses.

So we went to the mall and found a very nice dress. It's pale lavender. The saleslady cooed when I said it was for my wedding. I also tried on pretty much everything in the prom department. And I bought a suit, so I can fight with my mother about wearing jeans to interviews. Also, I am so epically bad at navigating Sac that I think Ryan hates me now.

I am convinced that clothes shopping is a trap meant to subdue and distract women from the real meat of things. My dream is to have C's wardrobe: endless stacks of t-shirts and underwear and jeans, with four neatly stored outfits for special occasions. I hope lavender dress 1a can become my second special occasion outfit. The suit is #3.

The wet woolly weather eventually trapped me in a little town along the I-5 corridor, where I spent the night in a cheap hotel watching TV and sweating in my skivvies. I'm not trying to kickstart a porn movie- apparently everywhere I go now has the heater modulator broken- set on 'high'. (This is also true in my car.)