Slices of Stacy

34 (Base 12)

I go to my favorite on-campus pizza place one last time before becoming an alumni.  There is a long mirror in front of the people seated at the counter and as I wait, I stared into the mirror.  The face is familiar but I take a quick inventory.

Hair.  Since I've been wearing it short, I've stopped coloring it.  I'm intrigued by the gray.  I'm tempted to name the individual silver hairs:  bad job, car accident, abusive boyfriend.  Okay, he probably warrants that whole section up front.  I may color it again tomorrow, but today I wear the gray like a medal.

The lines on my forehead no longer disappear within a couple of hours of waking up.  The lines are fine and few but they weren't there two years ago.  My eyes have also registered more small wrinkles.  Still not bad, but I make a mental note to research Clinique eye creams.  

I have to move closer to the mirror to see the faint lines around my mouth.  I remember a line from a play I saw when DJ and I were dating:  "They're called laugh lines but I have yet to figure out what's so goddamn funny."  I closely examine my lips, wondering if I've started to develop the vertical wrinkles that will make wearing my beloved red lipstick a challenge.  Nothing yet.  I know that most wrinkles are genetic and are not, in fact, completely preventable.  Still, I adhere to my mother's best beauty advice:  Moisturize like it's a religious experience.  I wonder about the efficacy of lip moisturizers and decide that the Avon Care Deeply lip balm I've used every day for the past 15 years will probably continue to do the trick.

My eyes travel down to my neck.  I know my genetic stock and I know that a neck tuck is in my future.  I'm okay with that.  I sigh deeply.  It could certainly be worse.  I'm the oldest person in my cohort but I don't look it.  Things seem to be holding together north of my shoulders, I think.  The gray lends me gravitas, badly needed with my innate immaturity.

The elderly black man who's cooking my lunch (two slices, mushrooms-pepperoni-extra cheese) calls my name.  He's worked here for as long as I've been coming here and we both share a passion for classic rock.  We have been known to sing aloud with the Journey or Styx songs played on the classic rock station, to the consternation of the Korean owners.  He hands me my pizza, congratulates me on my graduation, and as I start to walk out he calls, "Lookin' good, Mama!"  I turn around, blow him a kiss, and walk out the door.

It could definitely be worse.

In which the author decides that a certain retailer has gone over the edge

My first real introduction to Coach purses was through my friend Leigh.  She has carried the Willis bag for as long as I've known her.  Every few years she replaces it with another Willis bag.  I like the Willis bag -- in fact, I own one.  It's the perfect bag for job interviews and baby showers at The Swan House -- classic and understated.  Since the Willis, I've added a butter-soft tan Soho bag (no link, as they don't seem to have my exact model any more) and a black leather book tote, as well as a couple of wristlets.

To me, Coach symbolized class -- leather bags that said, "I spend money on my bags because I value well-made, high-quality items."   When they started making bags with the Signature jacquard fabric (like this one, which I love with the red stripe) I still liked them.  I remember a conversation I had with Leigh at this time.  She said she thought the signature bags were "too flashy" but I was okay with them -- until the knockoffs started appearing and everyone had a signature bag.   However, I appreciated the attempts to update their look, which is when I got my Soho bag.  It's beautiful -- I ended up with a matching wristlet.

The last couple of years I have watched as Coach's bags have become more and more gaudy.  Two days ago I checked out their site and have come to an appalling conclusion:  the designers at Coach have lost their fucking minds.

Let's start with the Leah collection.  I don't even like the lines of these, not to mention the little C's all over.  And the C's on a patent leather bag?  I just threw up.

Moving on to the Amanda line.  I have two words for you:  Paris. Hilton.  Satin?  Seriously?  Hundreds of dollars on a satin purse?  Do you know how many times you can actually carry a satin bag before you snag it and it makes you look like a $5 whore?  Three.  Three times.

The Soho collection.  This absolutely breaks my heart.  While they still have a few beautiful, classic items like the satchel (in red -- isn't that gorgeous?) and I can even wrap my brain around the classy/funky purple patent satchel, there are some sins here that simply cannot be forgiven.  This monstrosity is begging for a priest and some holy water.  Sateen? SATEEN?  Dear God in heaven.

This brings us to the Madison line, which holds horrors previously reserved for freak shows.  If anyone I know ever spends $500 on a nylon (yes -- nylon -- like windbreakers!) bag with a photoprint on it, I'll kill them.  Oh, hey, here's another one!  And this right here?  That's $1,000 worth of ugly, baby.  Also found in this line is quite possibly the most hideous thing I've seen yet.  What the FUCK?  Are the people at Coach colorblind?  And this one looks like an ad for 'The O.C.' 

The Boutique line?  Claire's Boutique at the mall, maybe. 

Now it's not all bad news -- the Zoe and Legacy lines have some cute things (particularly this one) and if I had $800 to kick around I could probably talk myself into a couple of items from the Peyton collection.   Except for that hideous turquoise color.  :::shudders:::  The Hamptons collection still has a couple of my favorites, the Leather Carryall (except, again, what the fuck is up with that teal color?)  and the Leather medium Madeline (love the kicky little scarf).  The new capacity wristlets are intriguing to me, being the wristlet fan that I am.  I need to go see them in person.   The Bleecker and Ergo lines aren't my cup of tea, but they don't make me want to gouge out my eyes with a spork, either.  The Patchwork collection looks cheap but the  Carly collection is okay -- this one is a knockout. 

Compared with some of the newer horrors, the Signature Stripe line looks positively staid.  However, I stand by my "everyone has one now" feeling -- the market is glutted with fakes. 

Coach, I implore you -- look up the word 'standards' in the dictionary.  I know you're trying to be hip and trendy and shit, but seriously -- take off your sunglasses when choosing your colors.  I'm guessing you tried to get 'noticed' with the new celebutantes: Paris, Lindsay, the Olsens.  But they are fickle, Coach people, they will carry your bag once and disappear.  There are thousands of us out here who will be here for you when they are gone.  Think carefully before you trade us in for a newer model.  Change things now and I'll ignore your shoes.

Homework

Sweet Pea came home with some work to do over the holiday.  She said, "It's because I'm a following student." 

Persistent questioning revealed that Mrs. F___ said, "Would the following students please come get these papers:  Michael, Andrew, Sweet Pea..."

iConfused

While I love iTunes' new 'Genius' feature, am I the only one who ends up with 'Build Me Up Buttercup' on every single playlist?

I am?

Okay.  Never mind.