No Winning For Me.

As previously discussed on this blog, I love to shop. 

Some people channel their creative energy through writing or poetry, dancing or drawing, Jared loves to channel his in the kitchen whipping all sorts of culinary treats.  But for me, nothing gets my brain going and my energy flowing, like putting together textures and colours, fabrics and fittings, like fashion and shopping.

I even love going to the mall just to see how the visual departments put together the mannequins; I love it when I see a beautiful new touch to an outfit that I would never have thought of.  And being that I love to shop so much, I generally have a way to make these things work, within my own closet.

But there is one thing, one place that is just against all my shopping practices:  Winners.  Even just writing the name makes my heart feel sad and my skin feel icky.  Now, before I go into all the reasons I personally hate Winners - I will say most of the people in my life have some killer clothes from there.  Jared gets some great belts and shirts from there; and my girlfriend Adrienne was rocking an adorable top from there on Friday night. 

Last Monday, Jared wanted to stop into Winners to look around.  A)  I never stop at Winners.  B)  I never poke around at Winners.  When I walk into that store it just makes me angry.  Angry!  It's a mess!  And nothing ever seems to be "put away".  There are no mannequins perfectly dressed to showcase their new stock; and there's no colour coordination as to where things are hung.  Purses are in one portion of the store, shoes are in another - then there's the mishmash of perfumes and hats.  Walking around that place is like a workout; no thanks - that's why I have a membership to She's Fit.

When I shop - I shop for the experience of it.  I love going into a store and being helped.  There is nothing like shopping at Betsey and coming out of the room - they do up your zippers, they bring you shoes in your size, they show you a minimum of two other ways you could wear the dress. 

But I don't just shop at boutiques like Betsey (hello - I have a mortagage, car payment and bills, you know?).  I also love to shop at Forever 21, H&M, hell, I even love to poke around at Suzy Shier - they've got some cute stuff, especially when they're displaying it on a mannequin.  It's just fun.

Yes, I realize you can find some amazing name brand pieces at Winners.  Which is what I REALLY don't understand... when we were there on Monday, I saw a beautiful white Versace dress.  The fabric was satin, the stitching was impeccable... but it was hanging on a plastic hanger, in a big heap of $14 dresses.  Seriously?  If I'm buying Versace (which sadly I have not had the pleasure of doing at this point in my life), I'm buying it for the experience.  I can only imagine trying it on in a beautiful change room, while Jared has a glass of bubbly, they'd bring me shoes and hold up my hair and when I went to buy it; they'd wrap it up in beautiful tissue paper, and ensure I've got a garment bag to store it properly.

If I bought it at Winners, I'd try it on in a messy change room, with no service, and carry it home in a white grocery bag.  I even hear when you go to the changing room they give you a tag based on the number of clothing items you have so you don't steal anything.  Wow.  There's an experience I'm in no hurry to try:  they're treating you like a criminal?? 

So while some of my friends rock they're cute jeans and adorable T's knowing they got a killer deal on them, I'll be rocking probably the same thing, but at least I know I had a killer experience.

“Disappointments are to the soul what the thunder-storm is to the air”

Having spent a good decade in the public eye (having been on the radio and now on horseracing television) I have been called plenty of things.  A lot of which have not been good.

Funny enough, I can remember most of them... some all time favourites:
- babbyling barfbag
- stupid
- idiotic
- useless

Oh and then there's been so doozy comments as well, my all-time faves being that I slept my way to my job(s)... because clearly I didn't get to where I am on my own merits. 

I generally take these comments as a compliment - anyone who's in media knows they haven't made it until they've been slammed on a public internet forum for the world to see.  I think it's similar to a star being featured in Fashion Police - it's like a hazing, when you know you've finally made it!

Generally these comments bother me for an hour or two, I have a little piss-off and then get on with my life (because let's be honest, if these people were so awesome they'd be DOING what I'm doing, not WRITING about it, right?)

But yesterday something happened, that bothered me so deeply I was upset the entire day - close to tears even thinking about it.  Something that bothered me on a level I am not used to feeling... my parents told me they were "disappointed" in me.

No words have ever hurt so deeply.

Anyone who knows me, or has read this blog, or my facebook page, know that they are the two most important people in life (along with Jared), and that I would do practically anything they asked of me. 

I told my father last week, that I would do his Sunday morning run with him.  He's training for his first ever Sun Run10km and I'm so proud of him.  But I also told him, Sunday is my only day off, so I would not be setting my alarm and I'd call him when I woke up.  Well, I slept in.  Slept in-in. Like 1030am slept-in.  I haven't slept until 1030am in years... I just don't.  I love to be up early, go to the gym, have my coffee and feel like the whole city is mine... but I have been exhausted lately.  I am practically working 3 full time jobs, and the amount of pressure that has been put on me (mostly by myself, but certainly a bit from the corporation) is like nothing I've ever felt before.  So I guess the week just caught up with me and I slept.

The second I looked at my clock I lost it!  And picked up the phone immediately... he was already gone and I was told they were disappointed in me and that I let them down.  I hate letting people down - well, I hate letting people I love and respect down. 

I apologized profusely and will most likely beat myself up over this for the next few days - and I'll also try to justify it to myself.  Should I have set my alarm?  Am I a total letdown?  How could I have hurt my parents, who do nothing but support and love me?

There's one thing I know for sure - I'd rather be called a "babbyling barfbag" anyday.

For the Love of Pants...

...I love clothes.  No no, I LOVE clothes.  They are just about my favourite thing in the world (well, material speaking).

I love blouses, I love pants, I love skirts, dresses, shoes, hats, rings... it's really a sickness.  So this is what I don't understand, why are the celebrities of today not wearing any?

I'm also a fan of working out.  I love the feeling of adrenaline running through my veins after a killer run or a kick ass weight lifting session.  I also adore the way my body looks and feels after a series of great workouts (and healthy eating, of course).

However, no matter how "good" my body may look, I still like to wear clothes.

Now this is where I get lost - is there something in the water in Hollywood that has made some of our favourite ladies lose track of their desire for fashion, in their need to show off their taut bodies?

The other day I was running on the treadmill, grooving along to MuchMoreMusic (yes, I'm lucky enough to work out at one of those gyms with tv's on every machine - loves it), and I watched videos from Britney - wearing her bra and panties, Ke$ha wearing a T-Shirt and not much else, the Pussycat Dolls who are famous for their lingerie clad dancing, and Gaga wearing nothing but her brassiere and undies (and flats, which is wrong in itself - please find some stiletto's for this woman).  Why can't these women afford any clothes?

I am not a prude - not even slightly.  I can appreciate a sexy woman just as much as I can appreciate a sexy man.  And I love looking at pretty people and showing off their amazing bodies - in my workout magazines.  While I do occassionally go out with a peek of my midriff showing (a peek - not a display), or a backless top, I would never consider going out without my pants!!!

And why is it Hollywood women are considering being half (okay almost-completely) naked "sexy".  I once went to work in a turtleneck and black bootleg pants, and a woman stopped me and said "wow, that's a very sexy outfit for work don't you think?"  Sexy is how you feel in your clothes, and that feeling that emanates from that attitude - that is the accessory to your outfit - showing your skivvies underneath are not.

I have dresses upon dresses in my closet - probably more than some small boutiques in Downtown Vancouver; and while I'm hardly the size 0 of Lady Gaga, I'd be more than happy to introduce her to my seamstress for alterations.  Perhaps these woman need to find out just how sexy you can be in a Betsey Johnson dress: frills, crinoline and a good attitude go a long way in being sexy - and a little treat of lace and satin can be your own little private sexy secret, underneath.

A Penny Spent

Ahhhh - it's that time of year...

RSP deadlines.  Or RRSP.  Isn't there also something called RPSP?

Oh who knows - all I know is that it's the time of year that ads pick up for the banks, radio dj's talk about it, it's all over the news hour with Tamara Taggart and that other dude - time to do some investments. 

What I don't know is why people aren't taking a lead on their own money the other 364 days a year???  I read recently that we (as the general human race) spend more time watching monkeys smell their own farts on YouTube than we spend reading our own financial statements.  I laughed.  And then I actually truly thought about that comment.  Sadly, I have watched a small cat wearing a top hat online this week (video was about 30 seconds, hilarious, might I add), but I have also spent much longer than that going over my financial statement through my online banking.

Am I the only one?

I have been very lucky with finances through my life.  As far back as I can remember, I not only had funds in a bank account, but a bright and intelligent financial advisor helping me along the way.  He's a special, funny man who's particularly good with his money - I like to call him "Dad".

Since I was a small little tot, running around in fancy dresses (not much changed), Dad has taught me the power of a dollar and the power of a small investment.  I remember going to the bank with him and not being able to see over the counter, with $20, which would eventually turn into $30 and so on.  He had me put my money away into bank accounts with high interest.  Now, as a kid I didn't know what that meant, but I certainly did when I went back and that $20 had somehow multiplied! 

When I bought my first car, he came with me to to the bank to show me how I could afford the car I wanted, but not give up on the life I dreamed for myself!  One thing this crazy financial advisor always taught me, is that I "need to live the life I was accustomed to".  I have never not gone for dinner or not purchased a pair of shoes I wanted, because all of my financial obligations.  It's about finding that balance between being smart with our money, but having fun with our money.

It hasn't always been easy - when I lost my job in 2007 it was hard to not 'enjoy' life as I always had.  While I had a good severance package, I knew that money WOULD end... I lived fnancially thin, but I still went out and occassionaly treated myself to new makeup, but I knew my obligations to myself through those investments I continued to make.  Heck, just because I got canned from my gig didn't mean I was willing to forsake my fantastic closet!

Yes, it's been a huge point in the right direction from a very smart individual, but it's also been the smarts to take some of my money and put it in a place where I know I can enjoy it in the future.  Do I spend all of my money wisely? Oh heck no, I have a wardrobe that is probably the financial equivalent to a year (or three) of shuffleboard and blue hair dye.

Sure, I could invest an additional few hundred a year away into my retirement, or I could be a 30-something with one of hell of a good life.  After all, what's the point in all that money, if you're not having fun being fabulous while you earn it?