It’s Sunday. It’s raining out and although I am thrilled to death that I have no plans, at some point I must venture out. Will I work out? Get my nails done? Go to lunch with my husband? Go to a playwriting group? Check yes to all of the above! So even though I have some cute outfits, I never wear my Sunday best. I wear whatever is nearby — and I always look like crap. My hair is in a bun and I usually wear my pink Converse and something scary. To be perfectly honest, I wear clothes that should be thrown away – and it seems to give me pleasure to looks so awful. Maybe I am rebelling from having to dress up to go to an office day in and day out. Maybe this desire to be a pig stems from growing up in the mountains, or the fact that I once lived in the outback for thirty days and wore the same four outfits and never took a shower.
But now I’m much different — during the week if you catch me I usually look pretty nice — and lately I’ve even been keeping up on my hair, it’s “coiffed.”
My grandma had a mantra — and it was always look your best — you never know who you might see. My granny always looked like a million bucks, and my mom always looks good and they’ve always been harping on me about my appearance. Well, I learned something recently —
One Sunday, I was uncharacteristically trying to look a little dapper. I was trying to look cute, which I should just give up on that plan: it’s Sunday, it won’t happen. We had lunch plans with another couple, so I tried a little bit harder than usual. No, of course I didn’t shower — but I swept up my hair into a bun and then put on a Fedora, green army jacket, pink sweater draped over super tight jeans and high brown boots. This little number was almost chic for a Sunday in the West Village, but it was borderline. I sort of looked like I belonged in a J-Lo video or perhaps I was auditioning for the next Indiana Jones movie. So the next day, Monday, I had a big meeting at work — my corporate job — and I decided to wear the same outfit. Of course, I didn’t notice how tight the pants were until I had to back away from people and avoid bending over lest I wanted them to see my butt crack. What possessed me to wear my Indiana Jones outfit to work? I’ll never know….but that outfit still remains one of my worst Sunday fashion choices that should have never, never, never been one of my Monday choices.
If you live in or around NYC, you are welcome to come to this, just RSVP as space is limited.
April 15th, 2008 at 7:00PM
at the Abingdon Theatre
312 West 36th Street
New York City (cross at 8th)
“Reporter Girl” is about Dale Mesick, the nation’s first syndicated female cartoonist, famous for creating Brenda Starr Reporter — the gutsiest, most fashionable, red-headed protagonist-journalist to ever be portrayed in the comics. “The play has more than a ring of truth to it”, says OOBR.com. Weissberger Award nominee, O’Neill Festival Finalist and Princess Grace Award Finalist.
written by Laura Rohrman (Dale’s granddaughter) directed by Fritz Brekeller
with Louisa Bradshaw*, Jeff Branson (Emmy nominated star of All My Children), John Calvin-Kelly, Amy Dickenson*, Colin Egglesfield (All My Children), Betty Hudson*, Kate Nowlin* and Beth Woodard
* appearing courtesy of AEA
Wine and snacks will be served.
Please RSVP to: firstname.lastname@example.org
For more information, visit http://www.laurarohrman.com
Back in the day, I often talked about my Hello Kitty obsession, now I just think about it occasionally. Here is an article I wrote about Hello Kitty
For as long as I can remember I have been collecting and occasionally wearing vintage clothes. My grandma Dale Messick, created the Brenda Starr Reporter cartoon strip and her most beautiful era in my opinion has to be the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s. Of course, I didn’t meet Dale Messick until the late 70’s….but I remember clearly the first time we went to her high rise apartment, which looked over Lake Michigan (it was in Chicago). I think my mom purposely kept this fancy life away from herself and her children, because when we visited my glamourpuss granny “I was like who is this woman and why have you kept her from me?”…My granny had wild red hair, was gorgeous, had a closet full of fancy frocks and hats — and guess what? She loved to dress me up. In fact, many years later when grandma Dale moved to California, that’s what we’d do…I’d come over and she’d give me her clothes and we’d play dress up. So, as sort of an odd-ball teenager, I wore fedoras, capes and in my free-time started buying up vintage clothes. I dare say I was wearing vintage before it was ever in style to do so. Even these days, I look smashing in vintage clothes… I just ever-so-slightly have a look about me that is from a different era. Some people have this look…in period pieces it’s called “good casting.” For example, the HBO series ROME — great casting…the Tudors, not-so-much. All the dudes in that series look like they are soap stars in present time. Or maybe it’s the modern day speak dressed up with English accents that’s throwing me off….not sure….but I am only watching it because, well, I am a history buff…and it’s sort of soapy.