Alas. . .
Due to circumstances of maturity and responsibility beyond my control, I am forced to bid farewell to endless days of shopping indulgence.
Goodbye horrific (yet convenient) Lakeside, tootles a-ha(I remeber when you were down the block), shoenami, naaz, tomato, hemline, ele, trashy diva, winky's. . .I'll miss you all.
And I was just getting geared up to do some damage. I shipped out a literal trunk-ful of goodies to Olivier's momma that were not really my thang anymore. The closet is so empty now. And I freakin gave it all away. No matter, it didn't really fit anymore anyway. Some of it was almost ten years old. Damn.
But most of all I'll miss the places I hadn't quite made it into yet. Time is just so sparse these days. Lucky magazine actually just did a spread about shopping in New Orleans and there was a few spots I wanted to see for myself. Oh well, not any time soon.
Curses.
Maybe husband's salary negotiations will end soon and I won't have to be mature anymore. I like the sound of that. mmmmmmmmmmmm.
If anybody actually reads this, feel free to post. It may be changing subject matter, as I must pinch pennies until circumstances improve.
I could get a job. . . but then when would I shop??
Monday, March 19, 2007
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Ooo, la la
HI all,
I had some naughty shopping fun this weekend. Went crazy at House of Lounge in anticipation of impending nuptials. I'm so looking forward to showing off my new outfit. . . and I can think of one other person that might be equally looking forward to the show. Let's just hope I don't get too drunk at the reception to perform properly.
But before I hit the House of Lounge, I stopped in at Shoenami--eh. Wasn't expecting much and didn't get much. Although, in an attempt to venture into the world of flats, I did pick up a cute pair of black, ballet-type, flat tennis shoes. They'll do. They are cute, but they're still tennis shoes.
I also popped in a Naaz to see what they had. I hadn't yet made it in, and I was a little disappointed at the lack of selection--but what do you do, it is a little boutique. The girl that was working was SUPER nice and helpful and that always is appreciated.
My usual fave of a-ha was a big let down. I guess they've changed the direction they buy. Either that or I just can't get on board with the funky, hippy, embroidery shit. I don't want to look ugly-dorky-funky-"cute", I want to look good--like an adult, and I don't have to look like I've had one too many brownies to do it. Either it's just too granola or too juvenille. I think I may scratch it off my list. Although, they are a good place to stock of C & C tees and tank tops--a staple of my M-F wardrobe.
And then came the hair appointment.
Ick, ack, retch.
Paris Parker on Prytania. What a bunch of stuck-up bitches. I used to live across the lake and visited the Hammond PP regularly. The building is gorgeous, the staff talented and friendly. An amazing experience every time. Contrasted to the PP on P, it is a haven of beauty and excellent customer service.
The PP on P though, I loathe it with the heat of a thousand suns.
I had a bad experience with them a few years back, just not impressed, but I got a gift certificate for PP over xmas and decided to cash it in on a cut and color. Where to begin--for starters, no one greeted me for about 10 minutes when I first entered the building. Granted folks were busy, but nobody even looked up. So, when my presence is finally acknowledged, I sit and wait for another twenty minutes. which turned out to be somewhat entertaining because a soon-to-be bride had just had her trial run hair do--with the mothers, and grannies in tow. And the style looked like shit. She had the veil in it and the chignon wannabe that was tucked under it was a disaster. Pins sticking out everywhere, loose pieces, it was attrocious. I almost told her as much. Being similarly situated, I would want to know if my wedding hair looked like crap.
And speaking of crap, so it's finally my turn. I meet the color person and we start talking about the plan. I have been platinum for over a year now and am ready to go darker. I tell her I still want to be light blonde, just throw in some low-lights. She has other ideas and spends a considerable amount of time condascendingly trying to convince me she's right. I stick to my guns and say no, lowlights and I'm done. She offers yet another idea. How about we lowlight it, and then throw on some light blonde in between to just add a little shine and depth. Her reasoning made sense so I decide to go ahead. But, I warned her, make sure you don't leave any of it on too long because it WILL GRAB DARKER than if it was being used to lift. She doesn't acknowledge my comment. Ok. Then I'm processing, and it's getting dark so I get her and say it's time to rinse. She says, "Don't worry, it's just oxidizing." I say, I know, I've gotten my hair colored for about a dccade now, and I know my hair and it's time. She says, Ok, and then disappears for another 10 minutes. Sneaky cunt, I should have just shampooed myself.
So now she shows back up and asks, of all things, "Ready?" I wanted to punch her in the face.
As she's rinsing it out in the shampoo bowl she tells another stylist at the next chair, "Wow, this color showed up really rich." Which is code for --o shit, it did come out too dark--
So now I'm pissed and it's time for my haircut. I had met the haircut girl when my hair was still undarkened, and we agreed on a cut. She cut it. It was cute. However, she didn't put a drape on me over the robe so I got hair all over my shoulders and it was all itchy for the rest of the day. Plus, she didn't put any product or hairspray in was she was finished. It was just flat and unfinished, and I was itchy and funky when I left. I was outraged. But by this point I was sooooooo ready to get out.
I paid the biznothes the $200 bucks they wanted for massacre-ing my hair and then proceeded to go home to call customer service and bitch. They were already gone for the day, so they'll apparently be calling me on Monday--hence the documentation here so I don't forget anything.
But the most striking thing is how rude the people there are. I guess I should have parked the Lexus directly in front of the store so they wouldn't think I was some dumb sorority wannabe that wouldn't "fit in" with their clientele. (not that I can spell or anything) I did kinda look like crap when I went in. I hadn't slept much the night before, went to a play and then had an early class and then spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. So I was pretty beat and red-eyed by then and just looking to relax. ha ha ha.
And speaking of the clientelle, I was the only one in there under 50. So, if ugly, wrinkly, completely devoid of style folks are your target market, then obviosly I was in the wrong place.
They suck and I will never go back. You couldn't lure me back in even if Brad Pitt was the new shampoo boy--ok, well maybe that would do it, but that's sooo not going to happen, so it's safe to say I'm never going back.
The haircut itself was cute, but damn those girls were bitches. ugh. I should call up Neil Corp directly and complain. It wouldn't be too tough, I am from Hammond after all and went to f*cking high school (and elementary school too, I think, I don't really remember--he was never my type) with a Neil (my friend dated his friend), and I even taught a class that little Miss Paris herself took.
Summary:
Naaz = good
a-ha= declining fast
Shoenami = you get what you pay for
Paris Parker on Prytania= should have flooded and been de-rooffed
I had some naughty shopping fun this weekend. Went crazy at House of Lounge in anticipation of impending nuptials. I'm so looking forward to showing off my new outfit. . . and I can think of one other person that might be equally looking forward to the show. Let's just hope I don't get too drunk at the reception to perform properly.
But before I hit the House of Lounge, I stopped in at Shoenami--eh. Wasn't expecting much and didn't get much. Although, in an attempt to venture into the world of flats, I did pick up a cute pair of black, ballet-type, flat tennis shoes. They'll do. They are cute, but they're still tennis shoes.
I also popped in a Naaz to see what they had. I hadn't yet made it in, and I was a little disappointed at the lack of selection--but what do you do, it is a little boutique. The girl that was working was SUPER nice and helpful and that always is appreciated.
My usual fave of a-ha was a big let down. I guess they've changed the direction they buy. Either that or I just can't get on board with the funky, hippy, embroidery shit. I don't want to look ugly-dorky-funky-"cute", I want to look good--like an adult, and I don't have to look like I've had one too many brownies to do it. Either it's just too granola or too juvenille. I think I may scratch it off my list. Although, they are a good place to stock of C & C tees and tank tops--a staple of my M-F wardrobe.
And then came the hair appointment.
Ick, ack, retch.
Paris Parker on Prytania. What a bunch of stuck-up bitches. I used to live across the lake and visited the Hammond PP regularly. The building is gorgeous, the staff talented and friendly. An amazing experience every time. Contrasted to the PP on P, it is a haven of beauty and excellent customer service.
The PP on P though, I loathe it with the heat of a thousand suns.
I had a bad experience with them a few years back, just not impressed, but I got a gift certificate for PP over xmas and decided to cash it in on a cut and color. Where to begin--for starters, no one greeted me for about 10 minutes when I first entered the building. Granted folks were busy, but nobody even looked up. So, when my presence is finally acknowledged, I sit and wait for another twenty minutes. which turned out to be somewhat entertaining because a soon-to-be bride had just had her trial run hair do--with the mothers, and grannies in tow. And the style looked like shit. She had the veil in it and the chignon wannabe that was tucked under it was a disaster. Pins sticking out everywhere, loose pieces, it was attrocious. I almost told her as much. Being similarly situated, I would want to know if my wedding hair looked like crap.
And speaking of crap, so it's finally my turn. I meet the color person and we start talking about the plan. I have been platinum for over a year now and am ready to go darker. I tell her I still want to be light blonde, just throw in some low-lights. She has other ideas and spends a considerable amount of time condascendingly trying to convince me she's right. I stick to my guns and say no, lowlights and I'm done. She offers yet another idea. How about we lowlight it, and then throw on some light blonde in between to just add a little shine and depth. Her reasoning made sense so I decide to go ahead. But, I warned her, make sure you don't leave any of it on too long because it WILL GRAB DARKER than if it was being used to lift. She doesn't acknowledge my comment. Ok. Then I'm processing, and it's getting dark so I get her and say it's time to rinse. She says, "Don't worry, it's just oxidizing." I say, I know, I've gotten my hair colored for about a dccade now, and I know my hair and it's time. She says, Ok, and then disappears for another 10 minutes. Sneaky cunt, I should have just shampooed myself.
So now she shows back up and asks, of all things, "Ready?" I wanted to punch her in the face.
As she's rinsing it out in the shampoo bowl she tells another stylist at the next chair, "Wow, this color showed up really rich." Which is code for --o shit, it did come out too dark--
So now I'm pissed and it's time for my haircut. I had met the haircut girl when my hair was still undarkened, and we agreed on a cut. She cut it. It was cute. However, she didn't put a drape on me over the robe so I got hair all over my shoulders and it was all itchy for the rest of the day. Plus, she didn't put any product or hairspray in was she was finished. It was just flat and unfinished, and I was itchy and funky when I left. I was outraged. But by this point I was sooooooo ready to get out.
I paid the biznothes the $200 bucks they wanted for massacre-ing my hair and then proceeded to go home to call customer service and bitch. They were already gone for the day, so they'll apparently be calling me on Monday--hence the documentation here so I don't forget anything.
But the most striking thing is how rude the people there are. I guess I should have parked the Lexus directly in front of the store so they wouldn't think I was some dumb sorority wannabe that wouldn't "fit in" with their clientele. (not that I can spell or anything) I did kinda look like crap when I went in. I hadn't slept much the night before, went to a play and then had an early class and then spent the rest of the afternoon shopping. So I was pretty beat and red-eyed by then and just looking to relax. ha ha ha.
And speaking of the clientelle, I was the only one in there under 50. So, if ugly, wrinkly, completely devoid of style folks are your target market, then obviosly I was in the wrong place.
They suck and I will never go back. You couldn't lure me back in even if Brad Pitt was the new shampoo boy--ok, well maybe that would do it, but that's sooo not going to happen, so it's safe to say I'm never going back.
The haircut itself was cute, but damn those girls were bitches. ugh. I should call up Neil Corp directly and complain. It wouldn't be too tough, I am from Hammond after all and went to f*cking high school (and elementary school too, I think, I don't really remember--he was never my type) with a Neil (my friend dated his friend), and I even taught a class that little Miss Paris herself took.
Summary:
Naaz = good
a-ha= declining fast
Shoenami = you get what you pay for
Paris Parker on Prytania= should have flooded and been de-rooffed
Saturday, January 20, 2007
and I'm back. . .
Alrighty folks. after a long break due to absolute madness, I am back to reporting. And boy do I have some juicy stories...maybe some I shouldn't share.
Yeah, best hold on to some of those for now.
Doing this blog has brought to my attention just how often I actually shop, and it's been kind of shocking. So, I've resolved to cut it down this year. Just a little.
So, there was lots of shopping over Christmas. I had fun at Canal Place and shopping in the Quarter. However, I was unable to find (while on foot and without internet on phone) a bookstore in the Quarter. Such an anomoly. The old stand-bys of Virgin and Tower being seemingly closed forever, and no books for sale in Canal Place, I had to get more creative to secure a gift for my mother. She ended up with a cookbook that was more history than cooking--which is good because she doesn't cook and was a history major in college.
Lately, the sole object of my shopping extravagnaza has been to find an ivory silk charmeuse dress, strapless, notched top, and black across the bust. There is an ABS dress at Hemline that is pretty much it, but it's not this season and Hemline is offering it at full price. I could be tempted to just go ahead and pay twice what it's worth now, but they only had it in a 6. Oh, well.
All attempts to find it online have failed.
Speaking of online, I found a close substitute, however the rest of that story must get cleared with my attorney before I disclose the details. (o, the intrigue)
And on a slightly related note, I just picked up my car from the body shop yesterday, and I was sooooo happy to have the hotness back until I took a close look at the work done.
O my f'ing god! All they had to do was put on a new mirror and front panel, but apparently they also had to get all up inside the car and get their grubby mitts all over everything. Grease on the shifter, the knob was crooked, some kind of crap on the stereo dial, they had changed my radio station, turned it way up and changed the bass level. HOW DARE THEY! That's my car, with my settings, my personal space. DON'T TOUCH MY THINGS. O, and I forgot the best part. The mirror they put on was on crooked, and they managed to scratch the center console big time on both sides. I hate them, and if anybody's looking to get body work done don't use a particular shop on Vets right by the airport. It's my opinion and I can say what I want.
In thier defense, after I had to persuade the manager to even look at the damage--she didn't want to because it was too dark outside (as if cars don't have lights on the inside!)--she decided to have some interior paint people fix it on Thursday. We'll see, and I really don't trust them. It would almost be worth it to just never deal with them again.
Yeah, best hold on to some of those for now.
Doing this blog has brought to my attention just how often I actually shop, and it's been kind of shocking. So, I've resolved to cut it down this year. Just a little.
So, there was lots of shopping over Christmas. I had fun at Canal Place and shopping in the Quarter. However, I was unable to find (while on foot and without internet on phone) a bookstore in the Quarter. Such an anomoly. The old stand-bys of Virgin and Tower being seemingly closed forever, and no books for sale in Canal Place, I had to get more creative to secure a gift for my mother. She ended up with a cookbook that was more history than cooking--which is good because she doesn't cook and was a history major in college.
Lately, the sole object of my shopping extravagnaza has been to find an ivory silk charmeuse dress, strapless, notched top, and black across the bust. There is an ABS dress at Hemline that is pretty much it, but it's not this season and Hemline is offering it at full price. I could be tempted to just go ahead and pay twice what it's worth now, but they only had it in a 6. Oh, well.
All attempts to find it online have failed.
Speaking of online, I found a close substitute, however the rest of that story must get cleared with my attorney before I disclose the details. (o, the intrigue)
And on a slightly related note, I just picked up my car from the body shop yesterday, and I was sooooo happy to have the hotness back until I took a close look at the work done.
O my f'ing god! All they had to do was put on a new mirror and front panel, but apparently they also had to get all up inside the car and get their grubby mitts all over everything. Grease on the shifter, the knob was crooked, some kind of crap on the stereo dial, they had changed my radio station, turned it way up and changed the bass level. HOW DARE THEY! That's my car, with my settings, my personal space. DON'T TOUCH MY THINGS. O, and I forgot the best part. The mirror they put on was on crooked, and they managed to scratch the center console big time on both sides. I hate them, and if anybody's looking to get body work done don't use a particular shop on Vets right by the airport. It's my opinion and I can say what I want.
In thier defense, after I had to persuade the manager to even look at the damage--she didn't want to because it was too dark outside (as if cars don't have lights on the inside!)--she decided to have some interior paint people fix it on Thursday. We'll see, and I really don't trust them. It would almost be worth it to just never deal with them again.
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