As promised, here is a belated corset post with recommendations.

Please note I don’t actually own any of these corsets, although I wish I did. I judged them based on apparent quality of construction, variety of product (as in: do they offer longline/underbust/cotton/bridal/whatever corsets) and how much the site annoyed me.

My favorite by far is Corsets-UK.com

Although they don’t offer as much as I’d like to see in the way of neutral colors, they’ve got an impressive selection of underbust, sweetheart and longline corsets suitable for almost all your waist-cinching occasions.

By the way, if you’ve got a natural waist larger that 43″, you’re still probably safe going with a corset built for a smaller waist since fat is more malleable than bone. Just don’t go passing yourself out or doing anything dumb.

OH! And they’re doing a buy-two-get-one-free promotion on almost all corsets, so if you and some friends (I’m thinking bridesmaids) want to go in on a group order together, this might be the time to do it.

This long line underbust corset is for waist training. Personally, I don’t think waist training is a good idea because that stuff can mess with your ribs and lungs and other important parts of your body that should probably not be jostled around for the sake of a smaller waist. Still, there’s no harm in popping one on for a few hours if you’ve got a special event coming up, or if you need the extra control 24 steel bones provide.

If you want to do an overbust corset and still be responsible WRT the chestular situation (no Platter O’ Boobs/Dish of Desperation) a deep sweetheart is the way to go. That way you can maneuver the gals to their upright and locked position without spilling over into “I couldn’t get a date in high school so please approve of me now” territory. No one looks good in that territory.

There are TONS more corsets from the ridiculous (camouflage corset anyone?) to the sublime, but I’ve got to go throwdown with the old ladies over the best salmon so I’ll leave you to sort it out yourself. Good luck!

Is it a portmanteau of squeeze and seam?
Squeal and scream?

Not to mention SQUEEM makes me think of being squeamish, like I’m supposed to put on a girdle and then watch a HD video of my great uncle Jack try to remove his most furry and misshapen moles with toenail clippers.

*shudder*

Gah. I just grossed myself out.

I’m not going to pretend I understand the 40 year-old Brazilian company’s choice of nomenclature, nor do I understand why the language options on the website are English and Spanish but not, you know, Portuguese, the language they speak in Brazil.

I also don’t understand the whole Virtuous Circle thing, which I’m hoping are just bad translations from Portuguese because neither the English nor the Spanish version stands up to any sort of rigorous logic.

One thing leads to another. From better body to better mind to a better you. Squeem is designed for weight loss and instant progress. [...] Immediate results will make you care more for your body; giving you the long-term benefits you’ll need for a complete transformation, and that is The Virtuous Circle.

Howlingly bad copy aside (oh, and the music on every page of their website. Every. Page. and it doesn’t remember your audio preferences so if you’re going to go to the site, just turn off your speakers) this is actually a pretty good product and it comes in sizes up to 4X.

Here’s how it went down:

The folks at Squeem were all up in my kool aid for months trying to send me a sample for review and I wasn’t all that interested because frankly, I get a lot of free junk through this site and most of it is just exactly that: Junk.

I’m not interested in getting it, I’m not interested in reviewing it and I’m certainly not interested in having it take up closet space, affronting the dignity of all my nice stuff by its very presence.

Still, I had a look around their site and aside from the audio and the gross abuse of Flash, I generally liked what I saw so I ordered the “Perfect Waist“.

Squeem has light control products when all you really need is some smoothing, the “Control Fit” which has a much firmer grip and “I Ain’t Playin’ With You” (okay, that’s not actually what they call it) that’s pretty much just pure rubber and will make you sweat like at least one, if not several, stuck pigs.

What makes Squeem special, supposedly, is this magical rubber and cotton treatment that gives you all the compression of the former with all the comfort of the latter.

Uh huh. Sure. A rubberized slimmer that breathes. I’ll put that right up there with unicorns, fat female romantic leads and Mexican cops who don’t take bribes on the Never Gonna Happen shelf.

But I’ll be damned if it didn’t actually work.

I’m not going to say the Perfect Waist felt like wearing a flimsy cotton chemise, but considering there’s practically an entire rainforest worth of rubber in there, I didn’t get sweaty at all. It was warm but completely breathable. How? How is that possible? More importantly, what does this mean for my chances of meeting a unicorn or an unbuyable cop?

Sqeem’s maiden voyage on the Good Ship Plumcake happened in October when I went to meet Hot Latin Boy’s mother for the first time.

I’m going to be honest: it flipped up a little at the bottom and down a little at the top.

Someone with a shorter waist would’ve been able to anchor both ends down with their undies and bra and probably avoid that problem, and still, it wasn’t such a big deal because the fabric is thin enough to not mess with the lines of an outfit if some flippage does accidentally occur, but it happened. Do with that what you will.

It was blessedly invisible under a thick ponte knit dress in a way my corset was not, and although I did have to take it off before I actually met his mother thanks to a panic attack (I was nervous enough to begin with and to get to her house we had to drive through Downtown Tijuana on a Friday night which is exactly as horrifying as it sounds, especially if you’re a woman with delicate sensibilities like myself. I can only endure the visual assault of so many clear heels at a time without dire medical repercussions, although in their defense, they WERE hookers.) I have no problems recommending SQEEM to anyone looking for quality shapewear.

The Perfect Waist isn’t going to replace my corset for major reshaping needs, but it’s telling that when I packed my suitcase of clothes for the big move to Villa Plumcake to tide me over while the rest of my stuff was in storage, the Perfect Waist came with me.

Grade: A-

We’re going to spend the rest of this week focusing on shapewear, and never fear, I still have a handful of corset recommendations, but several of you have asked me what I think about Spanx.

Spanx can just go ahead, do some breathing exercises, maybe stretch a little, purchase a crazy straw from the party supply store of their choice in any one of a variety of colors and suck it.

(none of these cartoons actually need shapewear)

I have never, EVER had a piece of shapewear from them that lasted more than one or two wearings, didn’t roll or otherwise backfire or have glaring flaws right out of the package. I gave up on their legwear ages ago after putting my hand through three pairs of their pantyhose, once on the first try.

Maybe they’re just made for women with only a little bit of pudge, or whose hourglass boom boom isn’t quite so pow. Maybe it’s because I’m the only person in America who has a torso longer than two inches. I don’t know, but I feel like I’m the only woman on the planet who doesn’t think these things are the best invention since sliced vodka.

Oh maybe it’s user error, you say.

HA and verily double ha! There are little baby angels who are rougher on their clothes than I am.

Heck, I painted my patio in Hermes and didn’t get a speck of Unicorno (apparently in Mexico, unicorns are fuchsia. In an unrelated note: there’s a lot of peyote in this country) on my entire outfit so it’s not like I’m running around with an angry jackal in my pants, laying waste to all hosiery within a 10 mile radius.

PLUS Spanx is ridiculously overpriced for the quality and what’s worse, most plus-size stores these days (please imagine me shaking a cane in geriatric wrath, you may also imagine me in a kaftan if you wish, but it’s not necessary to the visual) have either vastly reduced or completely eliminated their hosiery in favor of selling the Spanx line.

Sigh.

Remember about six million years ago, back at the dawn of the current century, where you could buy those amazing Lane Bryant opaque tights that looked great and lasted FOREVER and you didn’t mind spending $18 on one pair because you knew your knees would wear out before those tights did?

Gonesville. Replaced by ^%$# SPANX for the low low price of $30 – $40, which would be okay if they, as previously mentioned, didn’t suck so hard there are ostriches in Africa wondering what that breeze is and if maybe they couldn’t cut it out because it’s messing with their (the ostriches’ not the Spanxs’) feathers.

Sure you can get some novelty legwear and a basic entry-level black tight from the Lane Bryant home brand, but solid black is not the same as opaque black and one of my biggest pet peeves is a theoretically opaque tight that isn’t. Grr.

Honestly, for that manner of stretchy shapwear I’ve had far better luck at places like Ross and TJ Maxx.

For example: this past summer I bought an amazing high-waist pencil-skirt slimmer that has been a revelation and I KNOW I didn’t spend more than $10 for it. I’ve even worn it as a miniskirt under a long sweater and over a pair of my antediluvian but still functional LB opaque tights. Sadly I don’t have a brand for you (it’s seamless and I’ve rubbed the printed label right off) but if I find it again I’ll report back.

Izod –I know, right?– makes some surprisingly solid shapewear in plus sizes, all of which are higher quality than any of the Spanx I’ve experienced, and I’m pretty sure each piece I bought was $7.99.

There’s also some brand called Lady Princess that I’ve never seen anywhere other than Ross and Ross-esque stores.

I’m pretty sure they’re designed for drag queens (I think it’s the name) but I don’t care. I’ve had good luck with their more heavy-duty pieces.

As far as the major players go, I far prefer the Avenue Body line of shapewear to Lane Bryant’s Cacique (though I still prefer the LB bras) but neither of them really carry my watermelon since both brands tend to roll, fold, pill and lose their shape within a half dozen wearings.

So is there a brand of Spandex-not-steel shapewear you can find online and which I actually LIKE?

Yes, and stay tuned kiddios: I’ve got a Review Revue coming up tomorrow.

Unfortunately, you don’t need to be trained or certified before the state says it’s okay to have a corset.

Corsets are not Costume.

I mean, they CAN be, but you don’t need me or anyone else to tell you how to create that awful, desperate Platter O’ Boobs effect. So, just for the sake of my head not splitting in half with two even more judgmental pieholes growing in its place, let’s just forget corsets as costumery and focus on them as a piece of specialty shapewear.

For the purpose of this article, I’m going to define a corset as a piece of boned lingerie with laces that can be used to minimize the waist by at least 3″. I say that because there are a lot of cinchers, high-waisted girdles and other usually latex or rubber-intensive shapers that call themselves corsets.

Of course, if I learned anything from living in the DC metro area during the Clinton years, there’s boning and then there’s boning. A good corset has steel boning or something with the equivalent flexibility and control. Flimsy little plastic or fabric “bones” are less than useless, because not only do they NOT work most of the time, they’re also likely to roll on you (more on that later).

The two main mistakes I see big girls in corsets make (aside from the Platter O’Boobs) are wearing corsets that are the wrong shape for their body/the outfit and lacing the corset too tightly.

If you are very large-busted or tend towards the floppy, you want a corset that ends under the bust. Cleverly known as underbust corsets, they allow you to wear your own bra and avoid the POB look. They’re also my corset of choice because overbust corsets can ruin the side profile by making less-than-ginormous funbags look flat.

You should also consider the length of your torso.

I’ve got a long waist and a standard corset is usually too short for me, which leads to an incredibly alluring reverse muffin top where all the fat sploodges out the bottom. I usually fix that by wearing some manner of high-impact girdle so my hips and gut don’t burst forth like the mighty kraken, hellbent on destroying all in its path, or at least the lines of my outfit which –let’s face it– is more important.

A longline corset is the way to go if you want your lower stomach and hips to get some smoothing action as well.

They’re a bit more difficult to maneuver in and generally a little more expensive, but if you’ve laced yourself properly they’re no big deal.

If you’re quite short-waisted, a standard-length corset will probably work as a longline and if you want something for your waist only, look for a lace-up cincher instead of a corset.

Now the lacing.

It is so easy, not to mention tempting, to go overboard with the lacing.

But friends, the fat has got to go somewhere and when you over-lace not only does it look weird, disproportionate and fetishistic, you are almost guaranteed a nice bulging set of backfat puppies popping out of the top and bottom of your corset. Fabulous if you’re a dowager empress, not so great for the rest of us. Keep the laces at the top and bottom of your corset nice and open, focusing on creating a gently exaggerate curve, not overzealous Gibson Girl Gone Wild.

Monday I’ll have a selection of corsets I recommend as well as answering a few more questions about this seemingly most difficult piece of underwear. Until then I am being forcefully beckoned to Plumcake Central Command (my hammock) for an important meeting (a nap followed by a gin and tonic) before tonight’s busy schedule of…probably nothing.

The general consensus is men “expect” girls whose downton abbey looks like Atlanta after a visit from General Sherman because of porn. Now, I don’t actually believe any guy over the age of 23 can possibly be THAT clueless, but you know what?

If a guy’s understanding of sexual congress comes from repeated viewings of “White Men Can’t Hump” you probably shouldn’t be sleeping with him in the first place. That one was a freebie. You’re welcome.

Still, it’s your hair and you can do what you want with it.

I’m prone to ingrown hairs and my new beach bunny lifestyle (I think I mentioned it on twitter or Facebook, but I’m moving to a little Mexican beach town) is a lot more swimsuit intensive.

It’s also a lot more gettin’ some intensive and the pleasantness of either encounter is not enhanced by painful red bumps.

A few years ago a guy I asked a guy I worked with how he got his head so smooth. He told me he used Magic Shaving Powder, which was specially formulated for African-American men to prevent razor bumps/ingrown hairs.

I thought “hey, why not?” and now I look back upon my prior adventures in hair removal with the bitterest of laughs.

Of course the law firm of C.Y.A. & Associates requires me to tell you this product is not for use on your lady parts and should be used only as directed, so to be very clear: I am not recommending you do this, I’m just saying what I did.

Magic Shave comes in either a powder or a cream.

I use the powder because I can control the thickness of the paste and you get more bang for your buck. Scoop some powder into a bowl or plate –I use the lid from an old pint of a gelato because I’m elegant like that– and mix it with cool water until it has the texture of slightly thin toothpaste.

Spread it all over the desired area –I use the back of a plastic knife– and let that stuff percolate for a few minutes. You’re supposed to keep the area moist, so I keep a mist bottle around, but you could just put a damp paper towel atop the whole works. The directions say to leave it on 5 to 7 minutes, but I go for an even ten. Then rinse it off using the ol’ washcloth and cool water treatment.

The smell is not pleasant, but I find it a lot less offensive than Nair and at least it vanishes instead of lingering like a creepy guy at a Chuck E. Cheese ball pit the way other depilatories do.

Now here’s the clincher.

Bump Stopper 2.

Seriously gang. I don’t know what I did without it.

I just rub a teensy bit of the thick unscented cream on when I wake up and once again when I go to sleep & I’ve been ingrown-free since using it except for once and it vanished in two days. Plus I swear it stops regrowth from being itchy.

Of course you’ll want to do a test patch for both of these products first and follow all directions and wash behind your ears before you go to bed, and sit up straight get a real job and start giving me some grandchildren. I’m not going to be around forever you know.

Me? I’m grand. The charm offensive I launched against the Mexican family who lives downstairs from my best friend (I’m staying with her while in Virginia) paid off a few days ago when they took pity on the poor displaced Texan and gave me a fajita fix. I’m now rationing out my slices of delicious delicious baby angel meat like cigarettes in jail.

Anyhoodle, it’s Tuesday which means it’s time to find out What Miss Plumcake is…

Reading: Hellraisers: The Inebriated Life and Times of Richard Burton, Peter O’Toole, Richard Harris & Oliver Reed Exactly as good as you think it’d be, from the good old days when people really committed to drunken debauchery.

Watching: Amores Perros (Love’s a Bitch) This is not a happy film, but it’s beautiful, powerful and important. It’s pretty graphic but not gratuitously.

Hearing: Voice from Alison Moyet specifically Dido’s Lament. I have the import version so that’s what I’m linking to, but I’m pretty sure the tracklist is the same on the non-import edition, available here. Haunting.

Smelling: In The Library by Christopher Brosius of CB I Hate Perfume. I’m wearing the water perfume version which I bought as a decant from The Perfumed Court. I haven’t worn scent since I’ve been in Virginia, but I discovered a little vial of this in my bag and gave it a spritz for the sake of novelty. It’s supposed to evoke the scent of –you guessed it– an old library. It’s slightly more theoretical than literal, but if you or your fella loves the scent of old books and bindings, this might be right up your alley.

Loving: This ridiculous/fabulous Betsy Johnson nightie. It’s so Beach Blanket Bingo I could die. I don’t usually do camp, but how can I resist something practically ripped straight from Dawn Davenport’s closet (as played by Divine in John Water’s Female Trouble). Now all I need are cha cha heels!

Hating:

First, someone in Ireland stole a pair of my underwear. Let me just tell you how unacceptable that is. It is ALL THE WAY unacceptable. I know I joke about packing more underwear than you need in case you need to give some out as souvenirs, but I didn’t actually mean it! But no! Last night in Ireland I get back from the disco and the guy I accidentally jilted for his best friend from grade school is in my room unattended and during the next morning’s panty count (I had to pack, and much like the Marines, I am firmly committed to No One Left Behind) I was down one pair of size 9 Delta Burke light control briefs.

Also, who steals a pair size 9 Delta Burke light control briefs? Not. Cool.

Oh, and SPEAKING of Marines, has no one told them that when one wears white pants, one should probably not wear white underpants as well? Because I won’t say my grandparents’ inurnment service was ruined at Arlington National Cemetery, and by all means Marines bending over with visible panty lines (including, surprisingly, a pair of bikinis) are better than no Marines bending over at all, but it didn’t exactly add to the solemnity of the occasion.

Finally, last week I went to an open mic comedy night fundraiser.

The catch?

All the performers had to be in their underwear.

I was Not Enthused.

Frankly, if I wanted to laugh at pasty white dudes in their underwear, I’m going to do it the old fashioned way: in hushed whispers on the phone to my best friend while Honky McUnderpants is taking a shower. It’s just good breeding.

Anyway, the hostess, aside from being the only funny person to touch the mic that evening, was also a big girl. She was wearing a corset –thankfully NOT the platter-o-boobs type– a tulle skirt, control-top sheer black tights and heels. The only other woman was in a robe. Meanwhile, every.single.guy. wore boxers, tighty whities or –and fair play for commitment to the theme– a pair of adult diapers. Only one of them remembered to sew up the fly. It was not a good scene.

Later that night, I asked my best friend if she’d strip down to her actual undies –in a non-titillating way– for a good cause. She said probably not.

As for me? I don’t really care.

I’m not an exhibitionist. I’m used to people looking at me because they always have, not because I’m any great beauty but my height/size/features have always been unusual and thus attract attention. It doesn’t bother me. So going down to my skivvies in a totally unsexy way to raise money for a good cause? Eh. No skin off my nose.

The real objections I have are usually tied in with the idea that the only way women are supposed to raise awareness for anything is by getting their kit off. I’d much rather roll up in some joint in my Aint Nobody Gettin’ Any Tonight underthings than get all trussed up in some sexy lingerie-ish ensemble, even if that meant I was wearing more clothes.

So today Miss Plumcake wants to know:

Would you get down to your knickers for a good cause? What would the situation have to be? If yes, why? If no, why not? Would being a big girl make a difference? What about if you were the biggest girl in the room?

She is a woman of a certain age and a life-long Episcopalian. She is also, as her name would suggest, the former Dairy Duchess of a small Texas town. The story of her coronation is not mine to tell, but it’s hilarious and involves giving the future Tyler Rose Queen ringworm.

To appreciate this story you need to know two things:

• The Episcopal Church, is color-coded according to the liturgical season. Lent is purple, Easter is white and so on and so forth. A few years ago our parish decided to change the liturgical hangings for the pre-Christmas season from the traditional violet to the more historically accurate sarum blue. There was a bit of an uproar.

• The Dairy Duchess has, in addition to a remarkable vocal pitch and timbre, perhaps THE most magnificent example of an East Texas accent to have ever punctured my eardrums. It is an accent for the ages.

Scene: A rehearsal of the Bless Their Hearts Choir, sometime before Christmas. Apropos of exactly nothing, the Dairy Duchess announces in her inimitable exasperated warble:

“Y’aaaaall. I’m upset. I’ve stuck with you through the women. I’ve stuck with you through the gays. But now y’all have done gone and changed the color of Advent!!!”

That’s pretty much exactly how I feel about the revamping (as it were) of Lane Bryant’s Plunge bras.

The traditional Lane Bryant Plunge Bra –affectionately known as the “What Seems To Be The Problem, Officer?” bra– has been my go-to boulder holder for years, regardless of size.

I am a big girl but I don’t have a huge rack, they’re high and wide-set, so most other bras I’ve found made for big girls make me feel like I’m being strangled. The Plunge was just right.

(old plunge vs new plunge…will the magic still be there?)

Each time I put one on, it’s like a warm handshake from an old friend. An old friend who gets me out of speeding tickets, makes new lines to open up for me at the grocery store and scores me drinks a-plenty wherever I so please.

Yet, when I went to pick up a new batch last night, my trusty pal was nowhere to be found.

I was informed Lane Bryant had discontinued them, and were replacing my beloved sexy black lace plunge bras with the removable air pads with foam-molded cotton bras “More like the t-shirt bras” according to the sales gal.

Great.

I hate foam molded bras, because they assume all breasts are created equal when that is CLEARLY not the case. I don’t need/want padding where someone else might, and those little air pads let me maneuver the gals around in a pleasing arrangement instead of following some Stalinist rack regime.

A quick jump to the Lane Bryant site shows the traditional plunge bra as still available, and there is also something called the Luxury Lace Plunge which I haven’t seen in stores yet that look very much like my beloved WSTBTPO one, but until I try it on I cannot be sure.

A friend of mine who works at Lane Bryant has informed me they’ve also redone the balconette and several other bras, making them much harder to fit in her opinion so if you’ve got a favorite, you might want to stock up before they disappear.

While at the store, I tried on their new Cotton Boost Plunge.

The good:

• It fits really well. It’s comfortable, but sets firm boundaries. I don’t feel like it’s trying to choke me, the straps are relatively thin (I like that; you might not) and wide-set on the shoulders but don’t fall down. It’s seamless under a thin nylon jersey, the band stays put with three hooks instead of four and comes down on the sides enough to not cause indelicate rolls of splodgy fat.

The bad:

• It’s slightly foam padded, which I hate. It also doesn’t actually boost anything, which would be fine except the word boost is kind of in the name, so a girl is expecting at least a little oomph. I also found the sizing to be weird. I wear a 38DD (the extra D is for Damn!) in every single Lane Bryant Bra except this one, where I take a 38DDD. I tried on the DD, and it gave me quadraboob. Not a good look.

Conclusion:

• I’d call this the t-shirt bra for the woman who hates t-shirt bras. It’s not going to revolutionize your rack, but it’s a good compromise for a girl who wants the look of a t-shirt bra but hates the Ginormous Foam Cups of Death. I picked up two and I have a feeling they’ll both be seeing a lot of service under my various soccer jerseys this summer where shape and smoothness count more than cleavage. But I’ll still drive the speed limit.

At Lane Bryant you’ve got 30% your entire order until March 25th using code 000300384. I’m a big fan of the cargo jegging which is really more of a riding pant with cargo detailing than a legging. It’s surprisingly well-made and makes my legs look like ten miles of very good road.

I’m also digging the tissue-weight striped sweaters they’re practically giving away. They’re low cut but If you’ve got a defined waist and a good bust, this will be all about Brigitte Bardot on you.

From One Stop Plus you’ve got your choice of sales codes.

Use OSPCOUPON7 for 40% off a single item or OSPCOUPON8 for $20 off your $50 purchase, $25 off a $75 one and $30 off $100. Have you stocked up on slips? If not, now is the time. Whether you prefer shapers or full slips, get your underpinnings in order before those light spring dresses come out of the closet.

At  Avenue you can take 50% off your highest priced item using code JLE4473 and take 40% off your entire clearance purchase if you use code AV111081.

That’s right, you can double up on coupons. I’m liking this mini ottoman dress (get a better belt though, I’ve seen it in person) for your full-priced item and then clean up on denim with your clearance coupon.

If you’ve not been turned on to Amazon’s monthly $5 album downloads, you’re missing something good. There are some killers this month including The Velvet Underground & Nico, The Rolling Stones’ Let It Bleed,( featuring two of the most iconic album covers of all time. Everyone knows Andy Warhol’s “peel slowly and see” banana for Louie Blue and the VU, but far fewer people know the woman responsible for Keef’s cake was none other than Delia Smith)  OK Computer from Radiohead, Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On and The Score from the Fugees.

Reading: Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair by Pablo Neruda – Dual Language Edition Do you want to know how good Pablo Neruda’s love poems are? They got me into a co…commi….into one of those things, with the two people and the feelings and the listening instead of replaying Gareth Bale’s jaw-dropping hat trick at the San Siro in your head until it’s your turn to talk again. That’s powerful mojo.

Watching: Turtles Can Fly I say watching because I can only get through about fifteen minutes at a time. The first movie filmed in Iraq after Hussein’s fall, it takes place on the eve of the American invasion and tells the story of 13 year-old Satellite and his young friends who clear minefields in a Kurdish refugee camp on the Turkish border. Equal parts Les 400 Coups, The Great Escape and Waiting for Godot, it’s not easy to watch but it’s as important a film that’s been made in the past decade.

Hearing: Cultura Profetica – DiarioHot hot babymakin’ reggae en Español. Sure back in college I owned Bob Marley “Legend” and watched The Harder They Come with a bunch of my trustafarian pals one night, but that’s about as far as I got. Until, of course, I get this dropped on me –in Spanish– by my…uh…person friend:

I would like to live in your legs
Creeping up you like ivy
Or sail the thousand leagues
fixed at the helm of your hips

Yeah.

Smelling: Serge Lutens – Ambre Sultan Let us make a hypothetical situation. Let us say that once upon a time, and definitely not like, the first weekend in January or anything, there was a girl who had a special friend (and that was totally okay because it was before her person friend came in the picture) and that special friend happened to be a scorchin’ hot former professional soccer player from Casablanca. And let’s hypothetically say that one day this special friend invited the girl over to his house for a homemade Moroccan meal and to watch Casablanca in the traditional way, which apparently involves a several-hour massage with sweet almond oil and some mysterious green stuff he got at the souk followed by some premier grade necking, something just highly ill-advised involving mint tea and eventually breakfast. With me so far? All of that, without the mint (which seriously, I give points for creative enthusiasm, but that was just poor planning all around). That’s Ambre Sultan. Or so I’ve heard.

Loving: Better Business Bureau Charity Checker (click here for a list of BBB-approved organizations doing relief work in Japan). Chip in if you can.

Hating: Everyone in town for SXSW. Listen, I get it. I love Austin too, that’s why I live here. But you and your girl jeans and your ironic facial hair can just go back to Cleveland now. Stand up straight, get that hair out of your eyes and get a soul-killing job like the rest of us!

Wanting: Jeanne Moreau’s buffalo plaid cap from Jules et Jim. WHY? WHY is it so hard to find this thing? I just don’t understand.

Buying: Dream Curves Seamless Hi-Waist Bike Short Man I love these things. Alluring? Not so much, but I like the way they smooth my stuff out without locking it down. There’s nothing worse than shapewear that pancakes your butt or causes the Vesuvius of all muffin tops. Plus they don’t roll, by which I mean they roll a little but not so much they make me want to die and or kill.