Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

Fridayfriday friday friday... FRIday

(Sung to the tune of the song that is exactly like that except using the word 'money' in place of the word 'Friday'.) Once again, I have an idea for a post and will be saving my loverly contributors ideas for one of the days where it feels like the inside of my head is full of nothing but chocolate chip cookie recipes and dog fur.

At my old company, I had this friend who was something of a fashionista. Let's call her... Betty. Betty is a beautiful, voluptuous, blond, Dallas woman. She lives in Boulder now, but I think Dallas is one of those places like Long Island - you can take the girl out but... well, you know.  Betty silently judges me for a lot of the things that I do and wear. For example, once we were having a conversation about shopping for unique sizes as I am practically miniature and she has boobs like Christina Hendricks. I said 'I love the petite line at Ann Taylor'. She got allll excited and I thought we were having a real bonding moment, but then when she realized that to me Ann Taylor means Ann Taylor Loft (like Banana Republic vs. Gap), she shut that conversation DOWN. It was vaguely humiliating, even though I really have no intention of paying $45 for a tee-shirt.

However, Betty did teach me something about putting an outfit together that I now do every single morning before I leave for work. She said her mom found it in a magazine way back in the 70s, and they've both used it ever since. I googled it endlessly and can find no one else who does this, but I am totally in love with it.

Basically, you count what you're wearing. Count as in 1-2-3-4 count.

Each article of clothing and each accessory, including jewelery, is worth 1 if it's fairly plain. If it's patterned or very unique in some way, it's worth two.

That's it, that's the whole method. I know, it doesn't sound that exciting, but bear with me. Once you've counted yourself for a few days, you start to realize what number makes you most comfortable. Betty is a 12. Her mom is a apparently a 14 (think about that for a second - it's pretty fucking amazing). I'm an 8/9. If I forget to count and I feel awkward about my outfit all day, it's almost always because I went up to 10 or 11.

This is what my 8 today looks like:


I know you woke up this morning wondering two things.

1) How can I be sure that I am dressed in a way that neither too much or too little for my personal style?

2) What is Emma wearing today?

You're welcome. Happy Friday.

remember when I used to be cool?

if you feel like dancing