Ladies, ever have one of those weeks? Where there is too much to do, not enough time to do it in, and you're so tired from trying to do it all that what you actually do is riddled errors and self-doubt, making you want to put your head down and cry like a baby?
For me, it's all been professionally induced. I feel like I just ran a marathon but at every mile had to drop and do 100 push-ups followed by a five-minute wall-sit. Thinking and typing and calculating and spread-sheeting and talking and more typing and revising has given my brain and body such an intense workout that and I am sore all over. Given that the brain is our largest muscle, it's no wonder I can barely answer a simple question, like, "Which way to the Wharf?"
For Jslow, it's all been family induced. Living across the country from her parents and siblings has meant long visits by said parents and siblings and the entertaining and scheduling and juggling and shuffling that goes along with that.
Which means we've had no time for our beloved blog.
When I'm stuck "in the weeds with work," I'll occasionally take a quick check of shopping sites in search of a smile. The other day, while on Kelly Wearstler, I came across this Fanny Pack. Yes, a fanny pack.
The fanny pack, which popped up on the round bellies of squares in the 1980s, is the Rodney Dangerfield of hand-bags, the "butt" of many a style joke, that horrendous symbol of the middle-aged tour-bus tourist that descends on our neighbors abroad and screams Ugly American without that Ugly American uttering a single syllable.
However.
I can't get this bag out of my head. I walk everywhere, and not only would this be practical as hell, but I love its rocker-like edge. I dream of donning this bad-boy slung low over a pair of beat-up Levi's and scuffed boots. Fanny pack? More like ass-kicking pack.
Still, Jslow ain't buying it. "The last thing anyone would want to do" she writes, "is to add pounds to our mid-sections." She does have a point. Also, strapping this on would ruin the line of any jacket tossed over it -- adding bulk, thus resulting in a serious silhouette set-back.
What do you think? Has the stress of the past week blown my ability to filter out bad fashion impulses? Or am I onto something here? Should I bring the fanny pack back? Or am I smoking crack?
In the meantime, I leave you with this gem from a band called, you guessed it, FannyPack. It happens to be about a true fashion don't, the "Camel Toe." We'll leave that for another time.