Finding Mojo - Thwarted!

As I emerge from the anti-style world of not being able to wash and dry my hair, pick out my clothes without a little diva hanging on my leg, and take more than 2 seconds to "do my face,"* I'm trying to push the envelope. Granted, my closet isn't in the best of shape right now, but it's a little better than it was, so as I get ready each morning, I'm trying, trying, trying to not do the Washington Frump. Don't always succeed, but I try.


My memory's not long enough to go all the way back to Monday, but yesterday I managed to update my LBD a la the 500 style mags proclaiming "redo your closet with no money" (so nice of them to be cost conscious in these difficult economic times. gimme a break): black wool knit shift with a black ribbed turtleneck...and my beloved Daslu boots.** I was a very happy camper.


Today's another day of Very Important Meetings (ok, not so, but everyone generally tries to dress as if they are), and I was all excited. I decided yesterday I'd do some take on what I consider the Real J's*** signature look: a buttoned up suit paired with a fun printed T. I've yet to attempt it, but figured my newfound love of a Metallica Death Magnetic concert T would work perfectly.


So I tried it with black pants and a tweed jacket. Eh. Alright, but not finished enough. Jacket is a little too bulky. Next attempt: grey pinstripe pantssuit.


Perfect.


All proud, I meander over to the bathroom to show off to H.


"Whaddaya think?"


"Great, but too much." He thought it would be just too much for my colonels to bear, so he convinced me to tone it down.


"Friday," he consoled.


So off came my tribute to Lars and James, and on went the (alright not so, but still) staid teal sweater. I did throw on my mommy's gift of topaz earrings with my grandmother's topaz ring and her 70s-style medallion to make myself feel better. And my new(er) peep-toes help too (a little hardware goes a long way for this girl).


Friday, here we come.


*We were a little cramped in our lovely home, and The Bean was sleeping in our bedroom, so I couldn't get ready until she was up. Ditto for the shower/blowdry thing.


**I have some retired colonels who love my boots, and they're in town this week, so, well, flaunt what ya got, I say.


***Yup, she's still out there, allbeit far away...she's rockin' Addis Ababa style right now.

Favorite Post: Rockin' It Old Skool

I had grand plans for a lovely post on our date night at Mussel Bar Revel. I promise, it was fantastic, and I promise a post soon. But like at the end of last week, Real Life got in the way, and between a day job deadline today, the Beans' ballet & music classes & meeting Stacy London on Saturday (thanks, Allie!*), preparing traditional Romanian dishes and table for Easter No. 2 (Orthodox Easter was this weekend), a visit from my Mommy, and a long-scheduled date night to see H's hometown favorite, Blues Traveler, I just couldn't find the time to sit down and write it up.

So will you forgive me if I give you yet another Favorite Post? Way back when, when The Bean was still teeny, I posted about trying to find my style mojo again - with a Metallica T. Trust me, after last night's phenomenal concert, I considered one of my 2 remaining concert Ts ('tallica or The Wedding Present) with my pinstripes, but both shirts are Very Fitted. Give 'em a month.

So while you read about my 'tallica T, I'll knock out another proposal. If I still haven't posted a new one by the time you're done, borrow some of my inspiration from last night's concert, and go rock out to whatever is yours right now. Me? I'm missing John Popper and the boys in my collection, so I'll go country with some old school Randy. Randy Travis, that is.

*Allie of Wardrobe Oxygen invited me and The Bean to join her and her E to meet the Grande Dame of style consulting. It's not up quite yet this morning, but I'm sure she'll have it up soon.

I've got lots of thoughts brewing on this lil' ol' blog here, and while I mull them over, I thought I'd pull some of my favorite posts from the past 6+ years (yes, I'm an Old Blogger).


If you have thoughts, ideas, questions, Style Dilemmas, please do send them along! I'd love to hear what you want to read!

All About H: The Culmination

Last week, I posted about the Three Events we had to attend, which were All About H.

I'm a Very Lucky Lady.

Really.

With H, I've done and seen more than a girl could ever expect. It started with our first date to a DC United playoff game (back in the day, when they regularly made the playoffs), continued with our second date to DC's legendary jazz club, Blues Alley. I wore Betsey Johnson and black knee-high boots I bought while visiting my dear friend in England the year before.

Thank you, #healthyme, for getting me back into an ensemble chock full o' memories.

We threw parties (we still do, occasionally), then literally legendary. If you’re Of Our Age, maybe you were at our Studio 54 parties? Maybe? We would meet random people at bars who’d partied in our cleared-out-group-house-let’s-add-velvet-ropes-this-year fetes. I painted huge "54s" and giant crescent moons with coke spoons on drop cloths. We dug through Goodwill stores and closets to find stunners like the butterfly top I found a copy of at Forever XXI and wore to a very 2012 speakeasy.

Just after this photo was taken with sosarahsays, H split for the hills, having had enough of the twitterscene. Well, the bar at Chadwick's down the street, where I found him with kcellis & crew about 30 minutes later.

But really, it’s all about H.

H is a Music Guy, among other things. It’s not unusual for us to have one of the artsy cable channels on on a Saturday afternoon. The Beans are regularly exposed to - and must learn about - vintage concerts, from Billy Idol (The Bean does a mean Idol impression) to Chuck Berry (when we played the "Hail! Hail! Rock 'n' Roll" documentary again yesterday, Bean No. 2 started tappin’ his foot and bobbin’ his head, then went, “oh!” and made a beeline for the music drawer in their room, bringing back his guitar to jam along).

Back in the day, we spent multiple New Years afterparties with Ahmad Jamal at Blues Alley. We got ridiculously excited when Bohemian Caverns finally reopened. He popped the question by sliding a pretty little velvet box across the teeny table up against the wall while The Carribean Jazz Project was jamming on stage. We have regular conversations about how and when we’re going to take The Beans to Jazz Fest. And Metallica concerts.

So it’s not a surprise that H was contemplating a road trip to St. Louis just to see Chuck Berry at one of his now monthly concerts. Chuck Berry is, well, a Music God. When you watch other musicians - no slouches themselves - like, oh, Keith Richards and Eric Clapton talk about him, you can’t help but be humbled.

So a very thoughtful friend called one day. He’d just bought 4 tickets to Chuck Berry’s show at The New Historic Howard Theater. He and H have talked about H’s road trip plans, and he thought maybe, just maybe, we’d be interested in 2 of the tickets.

Well, duh.

So Saturday night, we met these Hip Cool Friends in their Hip Cool Apartment in their Hip Cool Neighborhood, literally steps from the theater. We walked over and took a seat right as it opened, opting for a balcony booth table. We were, to say the least, excited. We ordered leisurely, with a saavy and honest bartender-turned-waitress, looking forward to sharing a bottle of Argentine malbec and that Marcus Samuelsson-designed menu. International geeks that we are, the conversation turned to the Middle East travels. We were having a lovely evening over good wine and good food.

And then the band walked on stage.

And then Chuck Berry walked on stage.

If you’ve seen him in the last few years, you know. You know that the 85-year-old legend sometimes plays off key. He sometimes forgets songs and song lyrics. He changes key whenever the heck he feels like it (but has been doing that, well, always. He’s a stinker like that. Just ask Keith Richards.) His band manages him and his goodnatured bullheadedness brilliantly.

And he’s amazing. Positively amazing.

Pardon the dark pic, but really, it's Chuck Berry, people. Chuck Berry.

I won’t bore you with a description of the theater (incredible rennovation) or the menu. I won’t share our post-concert drinks with other friends (hel-LO Wardrobe Oxygen ladies!). I will just remind you, as H said during one of the last songs,

“You hear that? You hear that sound? Chuck Berry invented that.”

And changed Rock & Roll forever.