Here's to my grandmother, who was crazy but stylish

My grandmother passed away last week, so the last several days of my life have had to do mostly with death. I won't bore you with the details, but needless to say, during my week in Michigan there was little time for blogging.

I didn't really know much about grandma Irene, who I knew as Sandy (her nickname because of her Sandy blonde hair). She was plagued by severe obsessive compulsive disorder the whole time I knew her, which prevented her from being close to anyone.

But in the days leading up to the actual service, I learned so much about her life from relatives I'd barely known, it turns out all this time we'd had so much in common and I just never knew it.

So here's a small photo tribute to my grandmother, who looked adorable while operating a drill machine during World War II, who once looked like a pinup girl in a swimsuit, who swept my handsome grandfather off his feet and loved him for almost seven decades.

Who says beauty queens don't know stuff?

As someone who briefly traveled the pageant circuit, (there were great scholarships to be had, OK?) I'm familiar with how a great tan can affect the judges' opinions.

But that's why God, er, L'Oreal, created self tanner. Like the kind you rub on, not bake under.

Katie Donnar, who found some early-stage melanoma growing on her leg while preparing for the Miss Indiana pageant last year, learned this the hard way.

Congratulations to the little lady, who's made national news saying, "It seemed somewhat of a myth that I was putting myself at risk," she said. "The warning label was so small, nothing to make me stop and think, 'This is real.' "

Like, um, they should totally, like, write it bigger.
Oh, dear. I'm terrified to hear what will happen with this girl and cigarettes...and credit cards and sleeping pills and strange men who offer to give her a ride.

But hey, here's to world peace and all that.

Photo: huffingtonpost.com

Operation: closet, vol. 2

After four arduous hours of unpacking boxes that hadn't seen the light of day for, well, I dunno how long, myself and my brave comrads took a break from Operation: Closet vol. 1.

Petra acquired some goodies, Goodwill acquired some not-so-goodies and Heather just worked her butt off, going through college office supplies and high school keepsakes.

The most visible result of our labor is my new shoe wall (pictured above). Not only is it functional, it is beautiful. The first thing I did yesterday upon returning from work was walk into the former "room of no return" and stare at all my lovely shoes, nestled together like one very big, happy family. And it didn't cost me a dime. We used the cube-ish shelves that used to house all my books. Don't worry, I didn't get rid of my little library, the volumes are now living in Rubbermaid totes on the nearly unreachable shelves where the shoes used to live.

No need to point out the irony of my priorities here, considering my profession, but I wear shoes every day and I only read one book at a time. When I can afford a larger apartment (most likely in another life) I will give shoes and books equal face time.

The shoe wall is a coup, to be sure and the rest of the former "room of no return" is virtually unrecognizable:

From Haute in the Heartland

Notice the Marilyn Monroe clock perched ever-so creatively on the fuse box. That was Petra's idea.

But there's still much work to be done. The bedroom remains in the same state as previously posted, and the living room now looks like this:

From Haute in the Heartland

Yes, the Christmas tree is still up but it's going out to the dumpster this weekend. Don't judge.

Update: Carson's fixed their awful display

I had to do a double-take when I walked out of Carson's the other day, because they changed the display!!! In a very self-important moment I thought maybe, just maybe, some regional manager had navigated to this site from a Google alert and laid the smack down.

I know that's not at all what happened but allow me to bask in the possibility for a moment.

Dear imaginary regional manager who read the last post about your store:

I'm still not crazy about the newer version but at least the sleeves are bunched up a bit like there's a human inside the clothing instead of a headless mold of one.

That is all.

GP

Operation: closet, vol. 1

At the risk of alienating all my readers by exposing my terrible housekeeping habits, I've decided to make my very necessary and long overdue New Year's resolution a public journey.

Yes, organizing my closet is for my personal benefit, so I can use your prying eyes as motivation to stay the course, but also to inspire those who are also closet (pun intended) clothing slobs.

For a while I was fine with my, ahem, filing method. I've always felt the piles of clothing that cover my apartment were kind of endearing, plus I knew where everything was, sort of. And the mountain of shoes outside my bathroom door has become something of a decoration, it's so colorful.

Hypothetical friend describing me: "Oh, isn't Gabrielle funny with all her clothes and stuff? That wacky girl," shakes head with adoring smirk, "She'll never learn. But I sure would love to shop her closet!"

But that delusion has faded. The mess has gotten so out of control, I find I'm no longer fulfilling my outfit potential. I rarely have the time or energy to search for the sweater or the belt or the pair of earrings I have in mind, so I settle for something else (usually found on the floor). Not to mention the pieces I've forgotten exist altogether. And then, if by some miracle the item I'm searching for floats to the surface, it's usually wrinkled. Again, something I rarely have time or patience to deal with.

So here I am, admitting defeat, and publishing embarrassing photos of my inadequacies on the Internet. I am officially overwhelmed with my own wardrobe. Hangs head in shame.

Here is my plan:
My neat-nick friend has agreed to help me wade through the trenches, purge the volume, then organize the collection into something I can select elements from with ease. She's either an angel from heaven or she was drunk when she agreed to this, but either way I'll take it.

The plan is to turn this mysterious room of mine (Van Rooy tells me it's a closet) that I've lovingly dubbed "the room of no return" into my own personal wardrobe paradise. The room is pictured below.

From Haute in the Heartland

This is not to be mistaken for my bedroom, which is pictured here.

From Haute in the Heartland

Yeah, yeah. Don't laugh, or run and hide.
This is a learning experience, for all of us.
Think of it as an episode of "Clean House," only without that annoying woman who always wears a flower in her hair.

Day 1 of Operation: closet takes place this evening.
More photos and stories about funny things we unearth to follow.

8Fifteen's 75% off clearance sale begins today

While it's all too tempting to take a trip up to 8Fifteen this afternoon and call it market research, that would completely defy the pep talk I gave myself this morning on my drive to the office.

"Now Gabrielle," I told myself, "your apartment is out of control. You couldn't fit any more clothes in that poor closet if your life depended on it. As punishment for letting your living space reach such chaos, I'm forbidding you from purchasing another clothing item until you get that mess cleaned up and organized." (Stay tuned for tomorrow's post, which will outline my action plan to remedy my little situation.)

But my shopping time-out means more for you all! This little boutique has moved from its hidden location on Ferguson to a more visible spot on 65th. And this sale may just change your life. It's not like a sale at the mall when you get something for $20 that's really only worth $5. It's the type of sale where you get something worth $300 for $100. Alexander Wang, Elizabeth & James, Gary Graham, the good stuff.

815 E. 65th St.
253-1234
8fifteen.com

Hoosier girl, her majesty's Web

I have never met Nikki Sutton. Although through the magic that is Facebook I have become very intrigued with her style genius. Ya know, I met her boyfriend at some art thing and complimented his pink sweater and then she friended me and sometimes I'm the weird girl she doesn't know who likes to comment on her status.

Founder of Level Interior Architecture + Design, she has an eye that is unabashedly big city, and she is not afraid to use it in efforts to heighten the tastes of our fair city. With such influential clients like Exact Target, she's on her way to becoming as big a style icon as one can be around here.

Without speaking with her or asking her any questions or doing any real journalistic work of any kind, I'd conclude her business has been received rather well. After all, if people are shown something good, they will want it, and will be willing to pay for it, even in Indiana.

And oh, by the way, that's her in that photo, which I snagged from Shade Station (a British accessories ecommerce site) where she is featured as a model.

I'm sure you're wondering how she got this gig, whether she got paid and if that photo was taken here or abroad. I am wondering these things, too. But I was so excited to see a Hoosier lass representing our Kentucky-fried state (and I mean that literally, shame on you, Greg Ballard) in such a stylish manner, I had to post right away. After posting this, I will promptly write her a Facebook message asking these things...because that's how we hard-hitting research types roll these days.

Every girl should read "Love, Loss, and What I Wore"

I've always subconsciously attached some sort of wardrobe "tag" (to put it in blogging terms) to every memory. Like, say, "I remember the night he asked me on our first date. I was wearing that adorable jersey skirt with the matching hooded tank and the red seed bead necklace I found at Target."

But it wasn't until recently I realized other people do this, too. And by other people I mean virtually every woman on the planet. Enough of them, anyhow, to warrant writing a whole book about it. "Love, Loss and What I Wore," written by Nora Ephron (the pen behind the "Julie & Julia" screenplay) is about a bunch of outfits, beginning with those her mother made for her as a child, and what happened while she was wearing them. While men are also wearing clothes (most of the time) during their lives' events, for some reason that detail does not stick with them.

The woman who lent me this book told me it reminded her of me, I think because my mom makes me clothes, too. Also, because everyone close to me knows the story about my the dress of my grandmother's I wore to my cousin's wedding. (ask me about it, I'll cry and so will you) But I think this book is applicable to any woman's life, and so does Ephron, which is why she's turned it into a play. It's only on stage in NYC, though. Road trip, anyone?

Let's talk about underwear!

It's a rare occasion I feel compelled to use exclamation points when writing anything other than a text message or a highly familiar email, but a talk about the history of women's underthings with a costume curator is definitely worthy. H. Kristina Haugland, associate curator of costume and textiles at the Philadelphia Museum of Art will wax poetic about everything from bloomers to the nearly non-existent excuse for panties we all wear today.

I dunno about you, but I find underwear amazing. Without it, the fashions of yesteryear would not have been possible. Those hour-glass figures that defined the Victorian era? Corsets. The boxy bodices and exaggerated hips of Edwardian Europe? A different kind of corset, and some serious padding. The atrocious shoulders of the 1980's? Shoulder pads. The torpedo boobs of the 1950's? A really uncomfortable bra. It goes on and on.

Modern clothing has evolved into something that conforms to a woman's natural shape (which, is a good thing, sometimes) so I think it's easy to forget how much getting dressed used to depend on what you put underneath. These days a girl can throw on any old thing from her lingerie drawer and it doesn't make a difference, except maybe in strapless situations, so this talk will be pretty awesome.

It is the same evening as the first Happy Hour at the Symphony of the year, but I'm not sure I can pass this up.

Revealing Garments: A Brief (tee-hee-hee) History of Women's Underwear
Jan. 21 at 7 p.m.
$5 at the Toby at the IMA.
See ya there.