Anyway, my list has 103 things on it and one of them was to go to the Renegade Craft Fair.  Not as big as “Meet Mark Kermode” (More on Dr. Kermode at a later date.  Actually, pretend I didn’t just say that.  I feel like he deserves a post of his own and now I’m worried that you’re going to google him and have an imperfect first meeting when I know that if I’m there to lead you through the process, you will love him too.  Don’t google him!!! I swear this isn’t one of those reverse psychology moments! I really need to be there when you meet!  Gah!  Pretty birdie!  See the pretty birdie!) Where was I? Oh yes, Renegade.  Not as big as “Meet – ahem – Oprah” but then again not as small as “Do a pull-up” (although now that I think about it, that one is actually pretty huge since my right arm is still sore from the gallon of milk I carried home two days ago.).  Anyway. I’ve always wanted to go and I’ve never lived in a city that had one and it seemed like a weird thing to base a trip around.

“Why are you going to LA?”

“To buy a toast scarf.”

Weird, right?

But since we live in San Francisco (check that off the Life List) we could go and even base our entire weekend around it! I don’t know who was more excited – me or LB.  Okay, it was me. I was pretty much a nightmare all Saturday morning. I didn’t even have coffee because I was afraid it might (literally) give me a heart attack, I was that jazzed up.  It was all I could talk about incessantly so you can imagine LB had the kind of day that they just don’t warn you about before you get married.  Although the excitement must have rubbed off on him a teensy bit because he did come in to take a look.  Okay, he pretty much walked right back out but I think that had more to do with my discovery of this book of cats in wigs than the actual fair itself. I get it. A man can only take so much.

Renegade was everything I’d hoped it would be.  There were toadstools, tons of posters I would have bought if we had a wall to hang them on, Gingerbread men missing body parts (he had a tag around his neck that said – “The one that got away”), a lady walking around selling felt ice cream people out of an ice cream cart.  It was so good.

I only made one purchase but I LOVE IT.  I’ve been absolutely desperate for one of those fancy feather headbands (but then who hasn’t been, really?) but they were all either too expensive or not the right colors. And then I saw Tara to the T’s booth.  Not only did she have headbands in just about every color imaginable but they were only $22!  It was truly an Inspired Craft Fair Moment (which reminds of a conversation I had with our friend. Him: “What’s with the Renegade? Why’s it a ‘Renegade’ Craft Fair?”  Me (without a hint of irony): “Because the crafters there are CRAZY.”)

I have to admit, after meeting Tara (look how cute she is! and nice!), I was secretly hoping that the fascinator would magically transform me into a sort of writer-ly version of her – all retro fab with blond locks and tattoos, perhaps a pencil coyly tucked behind one ear – but it didn’t. Still you have to admit, the results are pretty dramatic.

What a day.  That gets a hearty cross-off the ole Life List (at least until next year).  And yes, I’m going to post a ton more links.  There was just so much cool stuff I want to make I sure do justice to all of them.

Go over and check out all of Tara’s fascinators and her line of stewardess-inspired dresses at Taratothet.com.

(I’ll give your eyes a moment to recover.)

After that debacle I purged my closet and had what I thought was a lean, fashion-friendly closet.  So, imagine my surprise when my sisters come over to help pack up my closet and we found these treasures….

1.  Jacket bought (at considerable expense) to jump-start my career as a “working woman.”  I remember standing in the boutique (in Canada, no less!) agonizing over whether to buy this or a black shirt dress. Fortunately, I chose timeless. I always do.  (Sidenote: Molly is brushing her bangs with a comb found in the pocket.  Used to keep it on hand in case, I don’t know, I needed to tease my perm?)

2.  This was my first “vintage” piece (I believe it was circa 1993, bought it in 2001).  When paired with a moderately flared, slightly distressed jean skirt, it says, “I am short-waisted,” like few things can.

3.  This was one of my first purchases from Anthropologie and, I have to admit, the only thing I’ve ever bought from there that I’ve never worn.  See, parts of my brain still work.

Because I was moving everything myself (LB was already in San Fran) I told LB that we needed to weed out his closet and get rid of everything he hasn’t worn in the past 10 years. (Soooo mean!) Typically he lets me in there once a year and after a whole lot of moaning and groaning concedes one t-shirt that has so many holes in it it looks like an old-school football jersey. (Remember those?  Even I could see mesh was a look that wasn’t going to stick around.) After about an hour, it was not going well.  We’d thrown away one tattered T-shirt and had a pile waist-deep of things he wanted to “think about,” when I stumbled upon my saving grace – the Halloween box.  Turns out “hobo clown” is easier to swallow than “out-of-date.”

Molly and Jill wasted no time in putting together a “Greatest Hits of LB’s Closet.”  Okay, so Jill doesn’t look good in everything.

So that was so much fun I’m thinking we’re going to have to do more of it.  Because I have A LOT of ridiculous pieces of clothing.  Many that I still wear in a way that is undoubtedly funky and creative, just like that pea green jacket.

There is a law in Carmel (an actual law, which I gather means it’s written down on paper and kept in a Very Important Place) that states you cannot, under any circumstances, wear heels in the city of Carmel-W-T-F. You will be fined.  And possibly sent to prison where you will be forced to wear either shower flip-flops or very ugly high-tops but certainly not, high heels.

Now as someone who chose to backpack around Europe for several months only in heels, I find this highly offensive.  (I kid you not. I had running shoes with me, but I believe you will find they are meant to be used for running. Heels are a much more practical option for walking several miles a day saddled with an 50-pound backpack, said the 21-year old Kara).

So, in defense of tightened Achilles and bad arches everywhere, I ask, “Who are you, Carmel-Are-You -Going-to-Monitor-My-Pants-Now-Too, to tell me I can’t wear this pair of va-va-vooms?

Or it’s sister pair (which just a thought, would be fantastic with colored tights)?

And are you really going to fine me for wearing these practically practical, very in-season little numbers? Maybe fine me for stopping traffic! (See what I did there?  Bam!)

And because I can’t get enough of these fabulous shoes that you can actually walk in (or climb mountains in, if you are a spry young thing), I have to ask – what would my punishment be for wearing these?  And no, “you wearing them is punishment enough” is not the correct answer, Dad.

So, while I do love you, Carmel-by-the-lovely-lovely-Sea – because people actually stop for crosswalks and people losing their harmonicas is considered significant enough news to be covered by the paper -

the next time I visit, I’m packing my  Irregularchoicestore.co.uk heels. So sue me.

So, you can see the state I was in, standing in the make-up section at Target.  Do I go with a tried and not-too-bad brand that works for the first week?  Or do I buy into yet another glossy promise and steel myself against disappointment?  When suddenly a young woman breezed by, pulled the new Cover Girl LashBlast off the shelf and told her friend that it was “the best mascara she had ever used.”

I stood there, motionless, thinking, “Either I have entered into an alternate reality where dreams really do come true or Cover Girl has some serious in-store stealth marketing.”  Most of me thought I was probably being tricked into purchasing another wand of disappointment.  But, there was something else there too.  Something small, that had been pushed down for too long.  Hope.

So, dear readers, I took a chance.  Took a chance that maybe, just maybe, I could have long, dark lashes without all that nasty clumping.  Took a chance that I could feel easy, breezy and beautiful with Cover Girl.

And…it actually works.  Wait, let me repeat that in case you momentarily fell asleep.  IT ACTUALLY WORKS.  I swear. My eyes look wider; my lashes look long, yet natural.  There is zero clumping and it swipes on easily, just as the package promises.  My boyfriend even said how pretty I looked (although then he asked if I had needed to fix my contacts – something to do with excessive eyelash fluttering…).  I’ve been using it for over a month now and it hasn’t started to build up like so many of the other brands.

Because I am not one to keep a secret to myself, I’ve been forcing all my nearest and dearest to try it and guess what?  They love it too! My best friend even went so far as to say that she really only bought it to shut me up; but now, she is very, very glad she did.  If that’s not a ringing endorsement, I don’t know what is.

Have I put to rest my mascara fears?  Temporarily.  Am I a one-mascara gal? Tentatively.  For the moment, I will believe that my mascara can fulfill the promise set forth by LashBlast.  For the moment, I’ll keep on swiping.