Playing Dress-Up

Day 6 of Snowpocalypse 2010:

Boredom was not allowed in my childhood. The oft-whined, "I'm booooored," was usually met with a list of productive, not-so-interesting suggestions to clean my room or get a head start on a research assignment. Worse still, my stepfather would sometimes bait me into a political discussion or try to wrangle me into home projects like organizing audio-cassette tapes or relabeling the pantry shelves. But the biggest deterrent for me was the pride-crushing mantra used when none of the other aforementioned options were viable:

"Only the boring get bored."

It was a good quip for a teenager whose self-image was all-important. Thus, the whining dwindled, and the quest for cabin-fever anecdotes began. I'd like to think that as I've matured, the activities in which I engage to occupy lag-time have also become more sophisticated. Unfortunately, this week completely debunked that hope. I apparently still inhabit the private world of a little girl who, when left to her own devices, will spend all her time:

• Writing in her diary
• Painting her nails
• Experimenting with makeup
• Dressing up in all her clothes
• Practicing french-braiding her hair
• Baking cookies and eating most of the dough
• Singing out loud, and thinking it sounds great
• Writing poetry
• Reading to her cats, using made-up voices
• Admiring the voices she makes up to read to her cats

Of course, there were a few more grown-up activities (wine-drinking, apartment-cleaning, David-loving) but mostly, I've spent the days doing exactly what I would have done with this time as a child. I've even begged David that later, when we go for our late night walk through this white, muffled world, that we can make a snowman.

All this aside, I do have one new grown up obsession I've been meaning to discuss-- lipstick. More specifically, this lipstick:

A very kind, generous woman gave me the Chanel Lover 09 lipstick last year, and save Halloween and Valentine's Day, I was very reluctant to wear it. But thanks to the recklessness that comes with pure, unadulterated boredom, I found myself swiping it on for the trek out to David's show this past Saturday.

Now, I'm thinking this could become my staple. I used to shy away from lipstick in general because I had this whole weird idea about "trying too hard." I was obsessed with looking like I "effortlessly" pulled a look together, but often this just resulted in spending hours trying to layer just right, with the tiniest bit of sexy peeking from a whole lot of casual. For awhile, this idea manifested itself in tight, lace-lined shelf-bra tank tops (no actual bra, a truly misguided psychology that governed my sartorial decisions in high school) under mens' open Oxford button downs. Accompanied with a series of attempts at the "tossled" hair updo, barely-there makeup (that somehow looked VERY there and took at least half an hour to achieve) and some ripped up jeans (of which I had ripped off the waistband) I still wonder how my mother let me out of the house. Somehow, in my twisted mind, my look was "effortless and sexy," not Walk of Shame.

If only I'd known then what I know now: Lipstick. I instantly took my last-of-the-clean-clothes outfit into something that made me feel hot. I mean-- I was wearing a cardigan. And a yellow scarf, that was just a tad bit off-shade from the yellow dress I had on. Over jeans. If Lover 09 can make that outfit work, it can do anything.