Archive for October, 2010

October 28, 2010

Eddie Says No To Tacky

New things happening! It has been decided that there needs to be some more action going on around here, so we’re going to post a “Purse Picture of the Day” Monday through Friday, excluding days that there is actual content to be posted. Come back frequently for some pictures you might not have seen yet and possibly some silly captioning. It’s gonna be good!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

Katie's son, Eddie says "Hey Mom! Come back! I don't wanna have to carry this thing! I'm going to have to go to school here some day. Cut me some slack!"

October 27, 2010

Giveaway Winner

So, whose delicious cookie won the beautiful, custom art from Boohyah’s Mom?

The answer is…..

And number 12 is….JEN from Want A Peanut!

Her cookie:

It is really not possible to choose one favorite, but I love peanut butter cookies. I make one with chocolate hidden inside and another PB sandwich cookie that has mini chocolate chips in the cream filling. Truly decadent.

Which…heavens yes…sounds delicious!

Thank you so much, Booyah’s Mom, for your generous donation! I’ll send an email out to the both of you to link up and swap details.

And starting tomorrow on Project: Purse and Boots….Photo of the Day! Don’t miss it!

 

 

October 26, 2010

Pursey Galore on the Runway

Pursey Galore spent last weekend with the lovely Pua, from Dino Momma, and she wrote this post about taking the sparkly bag to a pumpkin patch. But I was far more intrigued by the picture of her husband modeling with the purse. And the following possibility came to me…

Offering a meager tip to the cabbie, Pua made her way to the stage door and showed her pass, squeezing in past young men and women eager to see the designer or the models. She dropped her impeccably cut jacket and tacky, sequined zebra striped bag in a cubbie and took her station behind the curtain leading to the runway. Her partner tapped his watch and glared at her from across the gap.  Pua shrugged. She’d gotten there, hadn’t she?

Things moved quickly from there. The music started, the flashbulbs exploded and Pua worked her frantic magic, helping each model change and accessorize in the time it took to draw a breath. One dicey moment came when a shoulder strap refused to stay put, risking an immodest wardrobe malfunction in front of over a hundred photographers and fashion writers. Out of pins on her wrist pad, Pua grabbed her trashy sequined bag and rummaged for spares. Without time to duck back and stash the purse, she slung the strap over her shoulder and carried on.

The designer walked among them, tucking, blousing, pinching and pleating each model before he or she walked through the curtains. The group moved like clockwork, sending each model out exactly on cue. Until…

“No!” He shouted. “Not IT.”

The staff winced. They wouldn’t know IT if they saw it, but he did, and if he said it wasn’t there, then it wasn’t there, and none of them would be able to help. The model, wearing the season’s high end men’s suit in black paired with silver bowling shoes, froze. He knew from experience that he was to do nothing, take not one step, until the designer saw IT.

He strode to the accessories table, flinging scarves, chain link belts, silk handkerchiefs and banded hats to the floor. Pua turned, waiting, holding her breath, and a rainbow scattered across the backstage area from the stage lights bouncing off the countless gaudy sequins on her zebra striped bag.

All eyes turned to her purse.

“Where did you get that?” Demanded the designer.

Pua hesitated, worried that the silly bag that made her laugh was going to offend the designer so badly that she was going to be forcibly evicted from the venue.

“It was a gift,” she said. “From…my mother.”

“I need it.”

“Huh?” She was rendered momentarily dysfluent.

“I need it.” He walked quickly to her. “May I?”

“Umm…sure.” She slipped the purse off her shoulder and dumped the contents out at her feet, knowing that it needed to rest flat against the cut of the suit.

The designer moved quickly, slipping the strap over the model’s head, angling it properly along the lapel.

The loud, outrageous, zebra-striped sparkle was – somehow – the perfect complement to the sleek black jacket and silver shoes.

The designer pulled a lock of the handsome man’s hair down over his forehead, took one more look and shoved the model gently through the gap in the curtain. The gasp from the crowd was audible. The dressing team leaned forward, hoping to hear something over the music.

“Audacious!”

“Delicious!”

“Daring contrast!”

Pua nodded. Well, it was all of those things.

The staff watched the designer, whose ability to read the audience’s reaction to the line was legendary. His face scanned the crowd, moving up and down the audience, assessing posture, the intensity of the jotting of notes or the typing into laptops.

A collective breath was held.

“Yes,” he finally said. “The last piece did it.”

Silent jumping and high-fives were shared. The designer’s face took on a younger appearance as he grinned. Then the music blared again, which was his cue, and he dropped the smile, adopting the bored, disinterest, too-cool-for-my-own-damned-good expression expected in the fashion industry, and slipped out from behind the curtain to  cheers from the crowd.

Her annoyed dressing partner looked at the pile of debris at Pua’s feet. “You want something to put all that in? You’re totally not getting your purse back.”

Pua nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s okay. It really had too much attitude for me. It belongs on a stage.”

Her partner handed her a handled shopping bag and snorted. “It belongs in a bordello.”

“Yeah, well, sorta the same thing,” she answered while scooping up brushes and lipsticks.

Her partner nodded. “True enough.”


October 20, 2010

October Give-Away

Today’s gorgeous give-away is courtesy of the lovely, lovely Booyah’s Momma.

Did you know that Booyah’s Momma is also a very talented artist who makes custom design artwork for children’s rooms?

I did.

Cause, well, she told me. Seeing as how I have teenagers and decorating is now done with laundry.

But look at these:

Look at this adorable piece. I did stars in Child A’s room when he was a baby. I would have KILLED for this. (But, really discreetly so no one would ever catch me.)

Or how about this one:

Someone please remind me that I have teenagers and that I am NOT starting over now.

Each of this is hand crafted by Booyah’s Mom, with custom ribbon edging.

Look at this lovely grouping:

As a gift to Project: Purse and Boots, Booyah’s Mom has lovingly agreed to give away one of her custom pieces of art.

For your child’s room…

Or your grandchild’s room…

Or as a shower gift…

To enter, leave a comment and tell me your favorite cookie. For the purposes of the giveaway, I will allow the term “cookie” to include those that do not have chocolate. Because that is how much I love you all.

Also, visit the official website for Booyah’s Momma’s business: Bobo’s Room.

Also, since I am expecting a niece or nephew next spring, I declare that my sister-in-law can enter this drawing. But I pinky promise that the random selection will indeed be random.

Entries accepted through 9am PST next WEDNESDAY, October 27th.

October 17, 2010

Pursey Galore and the Royal Encounter

Katie, from Sluiter Nation, wrote a beautiful post about taking Pursey Galore on a tour of the charms and history of a small town. But I immediately latched onto the placard about the visit from the Queen of the Netherlands. Now, I have no idea if Queen Beatrix has a sense of humor, but in my imagination, this is how such a meeting might go…

I’m angry, thought Katie.

I’m angry and I’m irritated and I don’t believe I got dragged to this stupid event.

She stood with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed and refused to look at her husband.

Her husband refused to look at her, too.

“I don’t believe you brought that thing,” he hissed.

Katie turned her head further away but smiled slightly.

She decided that she liked revenge.

“It’s horrible,” he whispered.

Well yes, thought Katie, that was the idea. Make me give up my weekend just to impress a bunch of people we don’t like anyway and I am going to get even.

And since her sense of decorum prevented her from actually being rude to anyone, she got even the only was she knew how. Which was to pair her elegant cocktail dress with a trashy, zebra-striped handbag.

And to make sure her husband didn’t reach a state of apoplexy before they left the house and insist she select something more appropriate, Katie had hidden the bag in the car ahead of time, pulling it from the back seat just as they reached valet parking. Her husband didn’t even know she had it until they were walking into the hotel.

At which point he did reach a state of apoplexy, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Katie had an excellent sense of timing.

Her husband suggested in a strained voice that perhaps she could leave it at the coat-check desk. “Nonsense,” she replied. “I need my lipstick and I’d have no place to carry it.”

So they stood at a black-tie cocktail reception making small talk with a population of local business people that they’d never met, and who they would probably never see again, and Katie smiled each time someone stared at the purse, then glanced politely away to ask their thoughts on the weather.

HA! She thought, enjoying the perplexed look on each rich face.

Katie wandered to the buffet table, appreciating the tasty spread of hors d’oeuvres despite herself. She reached for a canapés just as a flurry of activity on the edges of the ballroom caught her eye. Something was up, there were suddenly many more men in suits than there had been moments before.

Her husband was at her side seconds later. “What’s going on?” She asked.

“Some unexpected VIP showed up, I guess.”

“Who? The president of the Chamber of Commerce?” She asked sarcastically.

“Yes, because that’s the person who requires a secret service detail,” replied her husband, matching her tone drip for sarcastic drip.

Katie and her husband watched as a pairs of men and women in dark suits quietly appeared to flank each doorway. Who was in the hotel? A senator? A cabinet member?

The room was suddenly quiet as the guests scanned the doorways waiting for the appearance of the guest that required such measures.  Then a side door of the ballroom opened and a woman of impeccable carriage with a satin sash across her gown walked into the room, escorted by additional people in telling, dark suits.

Whispers reached Katie’s ears. Queen Beatrix, from the Netherlands.

Katie’s mouth went a little dry. A queen? An honest-to-goodness queen? And she was standing there with a zebra-striped sequined handbag on her shoulder? Well crap…talk about a plan backfiring.

She briefly considered flinging the purse under the buffet table, but abandoned that plan when a pair of strong, intelligent eyes caught hers and the woman in the gown and the sash walked toward her.

Shit! Was all Katie could think.

Queen Beatrix strode gracefully to her, her gaze shifting perceptibly from Katie’s face to the audacious sequined accessory hanging from her shoulder. Katie prepared herself for the obligatory eyebrow raising.

But the Queen smiled.

“That’s a powerful piece of wardrobe,” she remarked.

Speak! Katie told herself. Use words! A verb! Include a verb! Don’t swear! “I..ahem…I was trying to avoid anything that was too stuffy.”

“I’d say you succeeded beautifully. Sometimes I wish I could tell the world to bugger off that way.”

Katie blinked. The Queen of the Netherlands says “bugger off?”

“I imagine it’s harder for you than it is for me,” she said.

“Very true,” answered the Queen. “So perhaps you can do it for me. Take care, my dear.” And she turned and made her way to the next guest.

Katie swallowed. Then she grinned. The Queen of the Netherlands liked her trashy handbag and clearly thought she had moxie.

She liked that. She lifted her chin a bit and pulled the bag into more prominent view on her hip. She glanced at her husband and said haughtily, “I’d like a cocktail now.”

Her husband snorted. “Get it yourself, your highness.”

Katie sighed and walked over to the bar, certain that Beatrix would never in a million years have to fetch her own cosmopolitan.

October 11, 2010

Pursey Galore and the VIP Treatment

Kristin, from Taming Insanity, booked Pursey Galore to help her celebrate her sister’s last days of single woman-hood. And, although this is not the story I heard about, there is no doubt that it COULD have happened this way.

“I look fat!”

“You’re a bride. You do NOT look fat.”

“My hair’s a wreck!”

“If you’re like this for your bachelorette party, what are you going to be like on The Day?” The capital letters were clear in Kristin’s words.

Her sister took a deep breath. “I’m only single for a few short more days. I’m not ready to look like a wife yet.”

Kristin looked her gorgeous sister up and down. “You will be an inspiration to wives everywhere, now get your purse.”

Kristin glanced at herself in the mirror. She was a wife. She was a mom. But damnit, she was going to be hot stuff tonight. Hotter than normal, that is.

She glanced in her closet for a bag, and something winked at her from the shelf. Something sparkly. Something…trashy.

Should she?

It was a party. She damned well should.

‘Cause nothing sets off a sexy dress like zebra-striped sequins.

The bride-to-be snorted out loud when she saw the bag, but hopped into the car without snide comment.

At the first bar, a round of free drinks showed up for the group of women. Kristin and her sister looked around for their benefactor, but the server didn’t know where the drinks had come from and no one was looking their way. The shrugged, toasted their mystery patron, and drank every drop down.

At the second bar, the doorman waived the cover charge. The women, wallets half-open, looked at each other, then sauntered into the room like VIP’s. It might have been sauntering. It might have been instability on heels due to inebriation. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

At the final bar, the group of now perpetually giggling and moderately staggering women found themselves escorted past the other waiting patrons, and walked to table where a bottle of champagne met them.

“Ok, what’s going on?” Asked one of the other bridesmaids. “Did the groom set this all up for you?”

Kristin’s sister shook her head. “No, I didn’t tell him where we were going. He can’t have.”

The women looked at each other across the table, perplexed. Where was all this attention coming from?

Their server leaned in and cleared some glasses. “It’s the purse,” he said.

All eyes turned to Kristin and her tawdry, tacky bag.

That?” asked six voices in unison.

The server nodded, placing the champagne flutes gently on the bussing tray.

“If you have the guts to flash that sort of bling, people will notice.” He stood up. “Another round, ladies?”

Five heads turned to Kristin, who had just turned into the leader of the pack.

“I think the correct answer to that is, ‘Hell yes.’”

The server nodded and stepped back, bearing away the evidence of round one.

Kristin settled back against the plush couch and crossed her legs theatrically. She glanced at her sister. “You mocked.”

The bride-to-be nodded, clearly clamping down hard on some additional snorting.

“Mock no more, foolish girl.”

“Never again,” her sister squeaked.

Kristin stretched backwards, her superior accessorizing skills had clearly lifted her above the other, less bold, less daring, clearly more mundane women. She reached behind her to move the bag into a safer place next to her on the couch, overbalanced, and fell on her arse onto the club floor, squawking loudly.

A roomful of bar patrons turned her way.

Her sister leaned over and surveyed Kristin’s indelicate sprawl.

“I take it back. I’m going to mock you again.

Kristin sighed and got her butt up from the floor.

Such a sweet, but short-lived, victory.

October 6, 2010

The Frame Winner!

Before I announce the winner, can I just say again how resentful I am that it’s really bad manners to enter my own contest? Did anyone notice where my sister-in-law tweeted that the green would match the stand-mixer that lives in my living room just PERFECTLY? Did anyone notice that??

Cause it would. It soooo would.

*heavy despondent sigh*

But someone’s gotta win, and it don’t get to be me.

So…random number generator site open, entries keyed in…and the winner is!!!!

Lucky number 7! And number 7 is….

Dana!! From Bungalow ’56!!

Congratulations Dana! You get your design your custom colored rosette picture frame from Peggy Ann Design!

I will hook you two crazy kids up so you can organize all the details.

Thank you all for entering, and continuing to support Project:Purse and Boots. And many many many thank yous to Hannah from Peggy Ann Design for donating the lovely frame!

And tune in tomorrow for the adventures of Taming Insanity and Pursey Galore.

It was a bachelorette party, so….ya know it’s gonna be juicy.

Much  love to you all!