By now, if you have been paying attention, you know that I have a number of things that are "my thing" - boots, totes, (also "boots - totes!"), outerwear. I tend to buy what a reasonable person would consider to be an unreasonable quantity of these items. But I make regular use of all of these "my things." Yes, I may have, by conservative estimate, two dozen pair of boots (that is four dozen individual boots, for the non-mathlete readers out there), but they are in constant rotation. I once took a two-week photographic boot diary, snapping a shot of my boot-shod feet each day, and did not repeat a single pair of boots for the entire duration. And it's a given that a trip to Target or Costco includes Big Green (you haven't named your favorite tote? For shame!) filled with an assortment of smaller totes, for bringing home the goods. As for outerwear, don't you match your outerwear to your outfit? Isn't that why they both start with 'out'?
Sadly, there are other items I tend to buy voraciously which see little, if any, use. They are, in no particular order, nail polish, lipstick, and vests. The blame for my nail polish gluttony can be placed squarely on the shoulders of my cousin Amanda. She opened my eyes to the beautiful rainbow of colors manufactured and the joy of owning a small piece of that rainbow, not to mention the the quick high that purchasing a piece of the rainbow provides. I like to think that when it comes to nail polish, I embrace diversity. It is entirely Amanda's fault that I have had to purchase a professional nail salon rack (or two) identical to hers to hold these little gems. But here is where we diverge: while Amanda's nails are always impeccably polished, mine never are. Oh, sure, I intend to polish my nails. I even intend to take a little piece of my rainbow to a salon and have someone else polish my nails. But if you have ever met me, one glance at my fingertips will tell you that manicures, professional or at-home, are few and far between.
When it comes to lipstick and lip gloss I also over purchase, but for quite the opposite reason. Far from wanting to own a rainbow of lip colors, I am instead on a quest for that single perfect lip color. (So, if you are keeping track, while I embrace diversity with nail polish, with lipsticks I am more of a racist, always looking for that one perfect color.) I want a lipstick that is at once different from my actual lip color, while being exactly the same as my actual lip color. Enhancing without changing. Does this make absolutely no sense to you? Then you can see why this search has been so challenging, has resulted in so many poor investments.
Sadly, despite my dedication to the purchase of lipstick, my lipsticks have a lifetime wearing average (LWA) of about 3.25 (unless I return them to Sephora, of course). Maybe I'll apply lipstick when I first put on my makeup, but more likely than not I'll delay because breakfast is fast approaching and I'll throw the lipstick in my bag for a later application that never happens. Earlier tonight I had a conversation with my friend Emily who told me she had just learned that some lipsticks contain lead. While that revelation engendered panic in Emily, it got no reaction at all out of me. After all, I am in very little danger of contracting lead poisoning from the half dozen or so lipsticks I merely rotate from handbag to handbag without ever opening.
Vests. What can I say. I like a vest. I don't like to wear a vest. But I like a vest. Denim, corduroy, leather, suede with fringe, I love 'em all. I will never be spotted wearing any of them, of course, but I love 'em all. It has reached the point that when a new vest obsession lodges itself in my brain and can be banished only through the purchase of a vest, I just buy the cheapest one possible that meets the current obsession's criteria. In much the same my grandmother selected her knitting projects, I don't bother to match the vest to my wardrobe or to concern myself with fit. Those concerns are irrelevant to the purchase of an item you know will never spend any real time outside your closet. Occasionally I'll try the vest on over an outfit, express dismay at how it looks on me, and put it back. The LWA of a vest hovers pretty close to 0.
As I read this back, I am not proud. Surely there are people out there who could benefit from my lightly used items. I am just not sure a store called "Lips, Tips and Vests" would draw that many customers. Of course, if one should open in my neighborhood, I'd be first in line at the grand opening.
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