A Litte Retail Therapy

“Honestly, shopping beats therapy anytime. It costs the same, and you get a dress out of it.”

--Sophie Kinsella

OK, right up front, here’s the content warning. I’m going to talk about superficial fluff this week, like shopping, handbags, shoes and mothering memories. The world is pretty scary right now. There’s just so much heavy stuff out there. It all matters, no question, and everyone needs to stay informed, stay active, and do their part to make it a better place. There just has to be something utterly frivolous from time to time, and this week is it.

It all started with a handbag. Usually, I’m more of a shoe girl, but recently, the bags are catching my eye. Anything by Michael Kors sends me into retail orbit. It’s possible it’s an obsession. There’s a term in marketing called “Brand fan.” I’m the ultimate Michael Kors fan. I’m also a fan of eating food and paying bills, so I own precisely one bag by Michael Kors. Mr. Kors, if you are reading this, could you maybe take it down a notch on the bags? Give a girl a break. Well, actually, never mind. You're worth it, darling.

 It started innocently enough, I was browsing online, looking at clothes, bags, shoes, etc. that are definitely out of my reach, but hey, it’s free to look. And then I saw Whitney. Yes, some of the handbags have names. I am filing that away in my fashion tidbits databank because I need Cliff Notes for anything that involves clothing, accessories, and dressing myself.

 Whitney was a dream, in MK logo chocolate brown leather, with leather trim in a shade called “acorn.” There were handy compartments and an attached holder fob clip something or other so I wouldn’t lose my keys. God, it’s like they know me. It was pricey, but finally, in some frenzied attempt at empowerment, or perhaps just greed, it was in my cart online and on its way to me. It should be harder to shop online; there should be some kind of on-screen warning that pops up and says, “Holy accessories, Batgirl, have you lost the plot?” Still, it was a totally righteous moment. The old hair commercial slogan, “Because you’re worth it!” was echoing in my head, and I fancied myself the Norma Rae of retail therapy.   That’s when the buyer’s remorse hit.

It should be noted that my current bag is a Coach, vintage backpack style, in buttery soft leather in a kick-butt shade of red. I got it at a yard sale for $10. Score!  And now, here I was, paying full retail. What fresh hell was this? Conspicuous consumption is not my thing. I’m so cheap I can squeeze a dime until Roosevelt screams, but now a designer bag (did I mention FULL PRICE?) was headed my way. It arrived, and while it was lovely, another part of my shopping personality became evident. I’m impossible to please. OK, that’s a trait that might extend beyond my shopping efforts, but still. Whitney was a wee bit too small to be carried comfortably on my shoulder. So, I began to research. Whitney was dispatched back to the Internet of Things, and I set off for the local Michael Kors store, because, I needed to see the mothership. Let me say that, for me, it was quite something to walk into a high-end boutique fully intending to purchase an item.

The sales rep was amazing; I mean she knew the name of every bag like they were her sorority sisters. There, bathed in white light and nestled on sleek chrome accented shelves, was the bag of my dreams. It had it all. Except it was more expensive than Whitney. Then, as if in some fugue state, my mother’s words came back to me. She was not a designer fan. When she’d see someone sporting an embossed designer logo, like, “YSL” or “LV” on a shirt or bag she’d say, “Jeeez, if you’re gonna wear initials, shouldn’t they be your own? Who the heck is YSL, and why do I want his name on my clothes?” However, she was also a big believer in treating yourself once in a while. The logo plastered all over the tote bag was “MK” Sure, it means Michael Kors. Or, could it mean Mary Kelley? I wish she were still around; I’d have bought us matching bags, budget, or no budget.

Yes, we all have to reign it in now and then on spending. No one (at least in my circle) has an unlimited supply of cash. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but a little treat now and then is nice, right? Especially because when the bag is hanging off my arm, I think of my mum and chuckle to myself. She may not have approved of the purchase, but she’d like the intent. Retail therapy is real, and trust me; it works. Treat yo’ self.

Harrington Reads

Note: This is a little different than my usual column. This event celebrates literacy and a love of reading and I'm so thrilled to showcase the program and these amazing young readers. Enjoy. 

"Once you learn to read, you will be forever free."

--Frederick Douglass

Reading is everything, right? I mean, who doesn't want to read? Even if it's just the comics or the sports scores, words will give you the world. You can choose what to know, what to learn, where to go, and how to get there, all on a trip to a library or a bookstore. I much prefer a library, if we're being honest. I am a huge fan of libraries. Literally, how do you not love a building that is dedicated to housing and loaning out thousands of books? The place that has staff who will help you look up anything you want to know. Oh, feel like a watching something? Ya, they have DVDs too. Blockbuster has gone the way of the Dodo bird, and Netflix rules the world on movies, but you can still go to the library; they have all the good ones, even the old black and white films that the online guys never bother with. Feel like catching up on the news? They have real black and white printed newspapers. They keep them on these cool wooden posts, or at least they used to. The library here in Marblehead even has a fireplace, with cozy chairs where you can sit and read the paper on a grey rainy day. What's better than that?

It all starts with the magic of reading, in elementary schools. I learned to read pretty early, at least according to my mother, who liked to brag that I was always "Sitting around with my nose in a book." Oh, the humanity, a child that read. The thing is, I don't remember learning how to read. I went to school, and they taught stuff, and there were snacks and lunch, and somehow, along the way, I learned to read. Thank you Mrs.Cashman, for all you did. I barely remember Dot, Jim, and their dog Tag, but along the way, I not only learned to read, I learned to love reading, and that is quite something.

This past week, I was lucky enough to spend some time with some young readers (and one author, who at ten years old, has already published a book) at Harrington Elementary School in Lynn MA. First, can I just say, how cool it is to be in a room full of kids who love to read? Because it’s literally everything to see that spark, to hear kids talk about their favorite books, the stories that speak to them and the characters that leap off the page and become part of their lives. It’s nothing short of amazing.

The dedicated educators at Harrington really get into this celebration of books and literacy. Librarian Carol Shutzer told me the event began in 2003 and has grown each year. Teachers dress up as their favorite characters from books that go all the way from Dr. Seuss to J.K. Rowling. Harrington has hosted police chiefs, military officers, governors present and past, and even players from the Patriots. When it comes to books and children, everyone wants in on the fun. Shutzer explained, "We are attempting to make literacy come alive, to make reading exciting." No question about it, she and the team at Harrington have not only met that standard but exceeded it.

 I was met at the door by a student at Harrington who escorted me to the library, and patiently answered my questions about the event and what it was like to be a part of hosting so many visitors. Once I got to the library, I was given a classroom assignment and a selection of books. Another student walked me from the library to my classroom, and there, waiting for me were a group of kids who were engaged, who were articulate, and who knew what they liked. Sure, I got to read a book but even better than that were all the questions after. Each reader is supposed to talk about what they do and how reading influenced their lives. Easy for a writer, because you can’t be a good writer unless you are a good reader, right? 

The thing is, I think we underestimate kids. Reading logs and book reports? No, it’s about more than that. They want to learn, they want to read, they want to know so much, about…so much! It's incredible to see. The readers that take part are mostly community leaders, media professionals, law enforcement, and others and it's a perfect mix, curated expertly by Shutzer and her colleagues. The kids get to share a book with someone they may only have seen on the news or in a police car or fire truck in their neighborhood and a connection is formed. You want to connect with someone? Talk about a book you’ve read. Share an experience about what you do and relate back to reading. Trust me; it’s a bond that will continue beyond the last page of the story.

Laws of the Lunch Room.

“I believe in stopping work and eating lunch.”

---L’Wren Scott

“Lunch is for wimps.”

---Oliver Stone

Photo from the Salem News, 2014 Ken Yuszkus

OK, two quotes, opposite meanings. How is this even possible on a topic like lunch? Who doesn’t like lunch? Why kind of workaholic non-foodie doesn’t want to take a break from whatever your day is like, have a bite of something delicious, chat with a friend, or read a book and chill for a little while? Lunch is fantastic, lunch should be mandatory. When I am queen of the #$*% universe (which is what my iPhone calls me, because my kids fiddled with it and I don’t know how to fix it) lunch will be required.

I’ve recently started spending a few days in an office setting, and it’s been interesting. Brown bagging it was a thing of the past for me, but it’s back again because it’s a money saver and it keeps me on my Weight Watcher plan of slowing down the growth of my back end that was becoming a bigger part of my life than was necessary. What I’d forgotten about was what should be called “The Breakroom Code of Conduct.” In every office, there is a break room. There are usually vending machines, a microwave, a fridge, and some tables, and it’s a place for people to store their food, heat leftovers, read the paper, have a cup of coffee and go off the clock for a little while. There some actions and behaviors, however, that are simply not done, and they are part of this code. Here are some of the basics, just to review, because based on what I’ve heard from a few people, not everyone is aware of the code.

1)    Thou shalt not steal other people’s food. Think this is obvious? Think again. Yes, the refrigerator is a communal space, but the food in it is not just there for the taking. There are names on the containers, what does that mean? Not yours! It’s sad to see someone wandering around looking for their lost ham and cheese sammich. This doesn’t happen at my new office, but some friends have said their office fridge is like the Wild West, you just never know when something is going to get picked off.

2)    Clean up after yourself. Again, should be obvious, but apparently, some people (and I have at times been one of those people) are unclear on the concept. If you blew up your chicken parm in the microwave, clean it up, otherwise, to the next person, it looks like someone roasted a hamster.

3)    No fish. Ever. Well, if they are alive and in a beautiful tank, that’s OK. However, there is no place for fish anything in an office kitchen. Sure, you bought it all fresh and cooked it, and there were leftovers, waste not, want not, I get it. Just keep that Finnan Haddie at home, OK? While it might have smelled heavenly in your oven, two days later in a small windowless space with no range hood fan, it smells like the Gorton’s fisherman went on a three-day bender. No fish!

4)    If you make popcorn, make enough to share. It’s simply not right to have a big delicious bag of buttery popcorn and not share it. The smell of popcorn hits on all the brain’s reward centers. Which shows how stupid we are as a species, because that smell is diacetyl, and it’s wicked bad for you. Still, sharing is caring. Just buy the organic kind without the dry cleaning fluid and throw some real butter on it.

5)    Every once in a while make something, or purchase something, that’s yummy, like cannoli or homemade cookies. Then send out an office-wide email that the treats are there for all who hunger. There is no currency like baked goods in the office environment; why do you think they call them “brownie points?”

Every office is different, but lunch is a constant. Lunch is good. Lunch works. If that makes me a wimp, so be it. Share the love in the lunchroom; just don’t be a slob about it. Your co-workers will thank you. Also, if it ever stops raining, blow out of that breakroom and get some sun at lunchtime. Take a walk, buy an ice cream cone, and come back happy.