Pink suede Manolo Blahnik mary janes. Oh, the delicate heel and strap. The side cut-outs. I rue the day I discovered the high-end department store. I used to be perfectly happy with Mervyn's and Ross. Still am, in fact. One musn't underestimate the power of cheap sweatpants and cotton t-shirts. And yet. Expensive shoes draw me, even as I know that I could never justify $600 for a pair of shoes, even if I had it.


Even as I say that, the justification begins. What if they were shoes I wore for years? Wouldn't it be better to have one really fine pair of shoes than a parade of cheap ones? This justification is knocked on its ass by the fact that I would still buy the cheaper ones. Plus, I don't have that $600.

J. Crew calls this a beach dress. Have you ever worn a strapless dress on the beach? I haven't. Perhaps J. Crew shoppers are a hardier brand of style mavens than I am.


True to the nature of corporate machines who have cottoned on to the fact that people (people like me, at any rate) will buy things that look cute with other things, J. Crew has included this pair of red suede sandals in the recommendations at the bottom of the page. I wouldn't wear these on the beach either.


But such an outfit definitely deserves space in my internet closet. Alarmingly attractive.

I am avoiding the shopping like I would shun a barrel of rabid weasels. No, really. It's been a whole 10 minutes. But this, this cannot be ignored. You must love the Fussy shirt. You are required to love the Fussy shirt. Because I love the Fussy shirt and we all know that I am always right. (It's true. It's genetic.)


They also come with this delightfully impertinent logo:


Rumor has it that these shirts inexplicably make your boobs look bigger. If that's not worth $20, I don't know what is.

Is your closet. Unless you're one of those people who never shops and whose wardrobe contains a grand total two button-downs and one pair of jeans. But if you do shop and maybe shouldn't be shopping anymore because you are 1. broke, 2. have too many clothes already and the credit bills to prove it, or 3. a kleptomaniac who has been warned away from every department store in the Bay Area, then your closet is your new best friend.

Why? First off, everything is free. Because you already bought it. There are always new ways to put things together. There are also bound to be cute sweaters that you've utterly forgotten about hiding in the corners. Or skirts that are so old that they have gone out of fashion and come back in again. (Really, who thought the '80s bubble skirts were ever coming back? Yet here they are.)

You do need to be careful of the You-know-what-this-outfit-needs? phenomenon. Lest you find yourself racing to the nearest mall, boutique or computer. Which is totally missing the point of the shopping-in-your-closet plan. If that outfit needs something, be creative. Do not leave the bounds of your previously purchased goods! [Post subtitle: The Closet Nazi.]

My own personal issue with the closet is that while a basic reconnaissance mission will yield heretofore undiscovered outfit combinations, it also lays bear its basic faults. Like the worn-through socks. And the holey underwear. And the cheap belt that someone just made fun of for its cheapness. When, hello!, I bought it when I was eating on $25 a week, had $2,000 worth of car repairs hanging over my head but needed something TO HOLD MY PANTS UP.

Nevertheless, I could use a new belt. No! No! Blast.

Fine. If you think this is all a load of hooey and just want to look at something new, check this baby out:


'Tis the season to be pink. Says Bluefly. Add a pink doctor bag:
And prepare to make more room in your over-stuffed closet.

I totally missed the Isaac Mizrahi for Target bandwagon. Now that I've finally checked out the goods and realized that I lost out on this trench dress, I am feeling rather downtrodden. That's a lot of cute for only $30.


One would assume that it's also well-designed. Having been designed by a famous designer and all. If not, who cares? A-line hem! Trench! Buckle belt! For $30!

I'm sad.

As a Jane Austen fan, I have to love this Anthropologie nod to all the screen time Austen's been rating these days.


Made of crushed silk with a simple design, it's the perfect foil for a knockout necklace and pulled back hair. Just like this model is wearing. Yeah. Either I'm totally unoriginal or Anthropologie knows what it's doing.

I wandered into a Weston Wear sample sale today. I know I don't need to tell you how utterly dangerous this is. How I don't have any self control when it comes to major markdowns. How my brain cells turn mushy at the sight of polka dot net.


I think we'll just stop right here before I embarrass myself.

Nothing more to say. Posh Girl strikes again. Simply perfect.

The dress looks cute. The model looks pissed. The shoes below look up hopefully, thinking: oh what a perfect pair we would make! Sigh.


Shoes, dress: I regret to inform you that you will not be united. At least not by me. But hold out hope. Perhaps some woman with excellent taste and a deep purse will see that you belong together and purchase you to live out your days in harmonious bliss.

Without the scary glare.

I officially have a new favorite shoe crush. Christian Louboutin can do no wrong. Especially not with blue patent lovelies like these:


They make me think spring picnics in the park. (Though I would never dare wear expensive shoes to a park or anywhere else.) They make me think May dinner at Boulevard. (That may actually happen, though not wearing these shoes). They make me think, you will never be able to afford expensive shoes unless you go into corporate law. (I have no interest in corporate law.) So there you have it.

I need this armani exchange dress. It's true. My love for it is abiding - and has been the entire 45 seconds since I first saw it. Its lovely halter. Its violet ruffles. Its floaty skirt. All call to me. Saying, you would look so cute wearing us. We would hide that extra layer of blubber (conveniently warm) from that nasty cookie contest of yours.


Buy us. Wear us. We can guide you to the perfect shoes as well...

Stolen from Savage Chickens.

I cannot deny my girliness. In kindergarten, I would arrive in frilly dresses at birthday parties whose invitations clearly stated "We will be getting dirty." (PS: They weren't kidding.) My room was pink. Very pink. My goth punk phase was short-lived and lazy. (It consisted of dying my hair red and buying a black t-shirt.) Hi, my name is Moose and my first word was "shoes."

This necklace lives up to that embarrassing reputation. I would wear it with pride. You know, if I actually owned one.


As I don't, I will gaze at its internet counterpart and match it to those Christian Louboutin beauties down there while patting myself on the back for my imaginary good taste.

These are the shoes I'd be plucking from the magical Shoe Tree branches. After fighting off all the other broke women with excellent taste. When Christian Louboutin comes out with a seasonally renewing shoe tree, that's when I'll be whipping out my credit card and figuring out that whole gardening thing. For now, I'll just wish they were $250 cheaper.

If you don't need a shoe tree, head to Blue Fly. This is why we love Blue Fly - anywhere else and I'd have to wish they were $400 cheaper. Blue Fly makes my internet shopping dreams feel that much closer. Come to think of it, it's rather torturous. Stop already. Stop with the promotions and the 10 percent off and the making me think I could possibly be well-dressed at some point in my misbegotten life.

Sigh. But look at those shoes. Just lovely.

I get ruthlessly mocked for wanting this car. Not because it's not a good car, but because it is suspected that I want it merely for being red, a convertible and cute. And what's wrong with that?


Just because it matches my shoes doesn't make my desire for a red mini cooper any less valid.

Is bad. Or good. Depending on your point of view.


This is definitely good. Somebody stop me. Or at least restrain me from wandering down Valencia St. after downing brunch cocktails.

I call this the pregnant dress. Because it makes everyone who sees you want to touch you. I saw the tango dress at Local Patron a few weeks ago and just kept petting it. Pure silk, baby.

Juice Beauty picks up the organic trend where the grocery store left off. You can now cover your face in potions containing nothing more complicated than apple, lemon and raw cane sugar.


I bought this in panic over a rather large mountain that was slowly consuming my face. I don't think it works on my skin. But I still like the idea. Maybe I'll drink it instead.

I am fond of shirt dresses. They're cute, easy, machine-washable and the perfect foil for those new shoes that keep inexplicably ending up in your closet. I like the pinstripey goodness of this one:


Whether I am drawn more to the dress or the cake she's holding has yet to be determined.

I want to horde this secret, hugging it close to my greedy chest, sharing my knowledge only with the 9 million other women across America who check blue fly on a regular basis. But I have decided to be generous and share this nugget with you, my dear readers. Generosity is easy when your total readership equals 3 on a good day. The keepers of this secret now number 9,000,003.

Ever wonder about all the fuss over those expensive luxury handbags? If you're like me you do. If you're not like me (meaning you didn't just fall off the turnip truck from Ross), you may have actually touched one of these bags with your own clean, manicured fingers. And you know precisely what all the fuss is about. Blue fly is doing me and my turnip truck compadres a favor (in a highly clever marketing campaign) by bringing these luxury bags to the masses. Or at least the 45 lucky winners, one a day for 45 days at the handbag giveaway.

I want one. If you win, you have to promise to tell me. If I win, expect ecstatic postings to that effect sometime in the near future.

If you're anything like me, you have an abundance of white shirts and the constant task of making them Not Quite So Boring as White Shirts Tend To Be. So try this necklace from pixel girl shop.


Jazz up a white shirt, attend the symphony, meet the president, choke on a pretzel - this necklace will cover all the bases. At least until you can afford that floating diamond you know you want.

It's been a whole week since I've posted a Fluevog. As this blog was originally named "Delicate Hooves Need Fluevogs," that is just wrong. Wrong, I say! So here is one that caught my eye. Note the jaunty color! The pleasing design! My overuse of exclamation points!

These are on sale, and make you feel your feet will be truly partying the second they step in. While also feeling that the party can be suitably contained to the office, should you find yourself at work without having had time to change from your night out. Not that any of us have ever done such a thing. No.

I love lingerie. I love it with the fire of a thousand suns. I would write my underwear a sonnet, but I'm not much of a poet. I did write out a few haikus detailing my abiding love for my underwear drawer but I am charitably sparing you.

Several months ago, I discovered knickers blog. I have since had to avoid it like the proverbial plague, lest they tempt me away from H&M (some nice bras for $12, by the way) and the 75 percent off bin at Victoria's Secret and into the realm of real lingerie.

I have been drawn yet further into their evil world of cunning, tempting good taste. Starting today, I will be guest posting at knickers blog for two weeks. So go visit. Say hello. But if you have children who need shoes, do their chilly toes a favor and stay far away.

I bought these today. They were $34 at blue fly. Resistance proved futile. Well, it might have, had I put up any resistance whatsoever. If you recall, I featured these same shoes in brown a few months ago.


They're still beautiful. And now they're mine.

I've been using the same sad mug for my work coffee for the last four years. In that time, it has received maybe six proper scrubbings. Perhaps I shouldn't be admitting this on a public forum. I am proud to announce that I have chosen a worthy replacement.


This is fitting, because neither is my job.

Don't be fooled by the unhappy looking model. This lovely thing is purported to be comfortable. No word on the shoes, however.

Which leads me to my largest internet pseudo-purchase yet. As all I want right now is somewhere warm to take naps, possibly with some cute men bringing me alcohol, I am buying this:


My very own tropical island. It's rather small, but I like it. Warm water, hot sand, cold booze. Feel free to go find one for yourself. Just type "tropical island" into google and claim whatever pops up as your own.

These are cute. I bet they make your butt look even cuter. But - $140 on sale. Ouch. On the other hand - cute butt. Hmmm....

Try this flouncy dress from anthropologie.


A pair of red shoes for you and seven margaritas for him and he'll be shuffling with the drunkest of them.

I am lusting after purses again. Logical questions like, Just how many purses does one person need? will be entirely ignored. This particular lust is one that will actually be slaked, once I can justify both the (entirely reasonable) price and a new purse. Two new purses. The only question is, which do I get first?

I suspect it will be this one:


Or maybe this one:


I sometimes hesitate to buy things off the internet - you never know what the quality will be. Expensive does not always equal well-made. Size 6 does not always mean size 6. (Or maybe that was just the cookies.) But I actually had both these purses in my greedy little paws today (at Local Patron, a store on Valencia St. that supports San Francisco artists). The black and white clutch is a nice soft plush, and the silk on the bamboo purse is beautiful. The quality and detail are very nice. I would have walked out with both of them, had my credit card bills been less steep at that exact moment.

Luckily for all, they are available on the internets from crafty bitch. I keep wanting to call it crazy bitch. But that's not right. Hopefully, she/he/it will forgive me for recommending "crazy bitch" once I hand over my credit card number.

Boy, do I need this. As the queen of jeans and questionable shirts (I still insist that it is acceptable to wear a cookie monster t-shirt to work), I have been looking for hardware to make me feel more presentable. This would do the job admirably.



Unique, interesting and not unaffordable. Investigate else wares for this and other goodies.

These are beautiful. They would match my toe. They're on sale at shop bop. You don't actually need a black toe nail to wear them. In fact, it would probably be preferable if you didn't. Fetching with all those black and white dresses that are so popular at the moment.

In this bed, not necessarily in Restoration Hardware.

Another three hours of sleep, a nice breakfast, a movie and some shopping. Maybe a facial and a massage. That's the ticket. Ah, the power of fantasy. I will never make fun of kept women again. Because I would just be displaying my bitter jealousy. Luckily, I have an excellent imagination. Happy Wednesday, all.