Hair Emergency

Sweater: Cora by Andrea Black; wollmeise dk in Vamp; my notes and modifications (very few) on Jessica Rabbit
Skirt: Hilfiger suede skirt; similar styles by Ralph Lauren and (totally worth a visit to the store at this price) H&M
Shoes: Manolo Blahnik camel pumps; similar styles in suede by Gucci, in leather by Kate Spade, and in d'Orsay by Marciano
Lips: Dolce and Gabbana passion duo gloss fusion lipstick in Sensual

I no longer work in Manhattan. My hairdresser is a) in Manhattan and b) an Orthodox Jew who doesn't work on Saturdays. While both my office and my home are accessible by commuter train, it's not the same commuter train. To stop boring you as quickly as possible, what this means is that I can't get my haircut on a weekday without taking at least a half day off of work. As a result, this is what my hair looks like (coincidentally, as I was looking at my project page, I had similar hair problems then and also solved them with a flat iron). I promise I am really going to try to see him this Sunday even though I feel really strange about asking my hairdresser to work on a day he ordinarily doesn't work. Perhaps paying in cash will assuage all my guilt feelings. Now I know that many of you are looking at me like this is yet another high maintenance thing because it's not as though there's only one hairdresser in the history of the world, and you are just a tiny bit correct. But only a tiny bit. Laurent has cut my hair since my first haircut. In the intervening years, only one person other than Laurent has cut my hair. It was freshman year of high school and I went to Dramatics and I never went again. Laurent is kind of like family. In that he is like family and has shared in our triumphs and tragedies since my father first started seeing him in 1974. Oh, sorry, Laurent cuts the rest of my family's hair as well. So while I know how dreadful and severe my hair looks right now, flat ironing it today means I can forget about styling it for the rest of the week (those at-home keratin-esque treatments actually work quite well) while I find a way to ask a favor of a friend. Knowing my luck there's either a) some obscure Jewish holiday on Sunday that not even my comprehensive upbringing included, or b) he has a hot date on Sunday.

I go back and forth on this sweater. In the pro column is the amazing color. Also in the pro column is the beautiful cable design. In the con column are the raglan sleeves and slightly high, flat neck. The more I look at myself in raglan sweaters, the less I like them. I already have a formidable shoulder profile and I find raglans accentuate that. Not in a dear-god-madam-what-are-you-wearing way, but in a way that reminds me how much better I think I look in set-in sleeves. Since I'm coming off a week of not feeling well which, for me, goes hand in hand with a bizarre combination of self- pities and flagellations, I would like to also mention that my front green area looks homeless, the hair on the top of my head looks especially thin and balding, my nails aren't painted, this photograph is terribly dark, and dear god my yardish area looks homeless. What kind of person doesn't clean up her tomato stakes FROM SUMMER 2013?!? On the plus side, I can guarantee that those stockings are clean as I finally (again, I am kind of a colossal failure at being an adult) got the magicians at Amazon to bring me lingerie bags so I could launder all my hosiery in the handwash cycle of my washing machine.

Reading over this, it's possible I have a case of the Mondays.