The Fashion World has roared: “Prints are in.”

I was bold in junior high.  I wore various printed tops to class: bright beetles and satin comic-strips.  It got attention.

The chutzpah slipped away in high school, and ultimately disappeared in college.  The mantra on campus was look like everyone else.

Spring 2011 Fashion is not my motivating factor.   {Enter red-head and The Magic School Bus.}

Ms. Frizzle.  The teacher’s fancy frocks remind me of true glamour.

Where does Ms. Frizz shop?  Does she design her own clothing line?  Is she on  Is her first name Fran? Lots. of. questions.

Despite my fictitious admiration for the scientist, I do realize she does not exist. But I do believe that many crafty women carry little pieces of Ms. Frizz’s splendor and philosophy as they roam the streets.

Let the Frizzle wild.  Rock the rhinos.


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Art by Melissa Garrett (daughter) from Bristol, Tennessee

“My name is Melissa. I have always felt like I was born in the wrong area.

I feel that I would better ‘fit in’ in a large metropolitan area, such as New York or LA. However, I went to a very rural high school in the mountains of Southwest Virginia. It was not out of the ordinary for the students of my high school to wear their overalls and roper boots to school, fully adorned in the cow and horse manure from working on their families’ farms early that morning.

Agriculture and Horticulture were the most popular areas of study at my high school. Old pick-up trucks with a dead deer in the back from the owner’s most recent hunting trip were plenteous. I, on the other hand, did not find this aspect of my area’s culture attractive in the least bit.

Each morning when I got ready for school, unlike the others, I did not think of what would be most comfortable to wear that day. I focused on what was stylish and appealing. I spent much of my time with my fashion magazines. My dream job is to be a fashion stylist of the stars (although I am currently in college to become a nurse).

As my picture describes, I treated the halls of my school like a run-way, modeling the fashionable looks that I put together. I did stand-out from the ‘norm’ of my peers, but I didn’t mind. I love expressing myself through style.”

-Melissa Garrett, 20-years-old

Art by Barbie Garrett (mother) from Bristol, Tennessee

“This is a self-portrait reflecting my vision of who I am.  As I was having fun drawing, I was reflecting that this is not how others see me, I think. I started to send a picture of just two green eyes on a white background.  I see myself that way sometimes, on the outside looking in.  And invisible.

This reflects the parts of me I enjoy.  I purposely left out my family, even though that is so much of who I am.  And, I purposely left out my faith, which is also much of who I am.  This is just a simple ‘look at me’.

I spend much of my time out on the porch, working on my laptop in my porch swing.  I am a freelance writer, and this is a lot of who I am. I am the Social Media Examiner for the Knoxville Examiner. I write about many different topics, but it is often cooking and crafts. I am a kitchen gadget addict:  I have 3 bread machines and 3 rice cookers.

I am a church organist and a former piano teacher.  I do a lot of things, but I usually do them on the front porch in my porch swing.

Obviously, I am a philosopher, and not an artist!”

Barbie Garrett, 50-years-old

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Master of all

March 20, 2010

I don’t specialize in one thing.  I don’t want to.  I lean more towards master of none rather than master of one.  Both figures of speech are ill-fitted in the hip and shoulder area.  I’m looking for attire that better suits me.  Preferably with lace and zebra stripes.

How about Master of All?

Sounds powerful.  Sounds like a challenge.

Dream big, and more importantly, do big.  Right?

Moving on to March 20th.  Today is the first day of spring.  It feels fresh – full of kites, cheap beer, burnt hot dogs, and rosy new sunburn.  Yearly aspirations should start today rather than the bleak of winter, January 1st.

I am 27 today.  Rather than listing the things I want to do this year, I’d rather list the hats I want to wear.  It’s open-ended.  Direct paths prohibited.  Figure it out as you go but just get there.

The Different Hats of The 27-Year-Old Kira:

1. Bee Charmer – It’s been my vision ever since I watched Fried Green Tomatoes.

2. Vixen – I received my first astrology reading from my new friend, Ophira of the Astrotwins.  Without revealing details, I apparently have an inner-stripper that is clawing to be unleashed.  Hmm… 

3.  Zebra Philanthropist Striped cocktail event in the works for May!  Hyenas prohibited.  Cheetahs will be given case-by-case consideration.

***I assure you that I am picky with my bonnet and beret collection.  To prove it, I will share another list.

Beanies Kira Will Not Wear This 27th Year:

1. Troll Collector – Been there, done that.

2. Fire Eater – Maybe next year?

3. Mayonnaise Enthusiast

If you feel inspired on this lovely spring day, please share some of your new seasonal hats.

“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly, specialization is for insects.”  – Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough for Love

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Fact: This snow angel extraordinaire is not me.

I’m dropping my jeans this Saturday as I cruise around Manhattan naked – for polar bears.

I’m tired of the same ol’ 5K fundraisers.  Yes, these events benefit incredible causes, but I’m sick of running.  Can’t we get a little more creative in our philanthropic events?

I value the zainy element of the Naked Polar Bear Cruise, and I’m always eager to support the Wildlife Conservation Society.  Therefore, I will strip down to my tie-dyed bikini (Yes, I lied, and I won’t be completely naked) on February 27th.

The longer I endure the cold, the more moola I raise for the bears.  My pride is at stake here too.  I’m a tough girl.  I will stick it out for the full hour.

For all of you New Yorkers, come out and play naked this weekend.  Or spectate.  Or just laugh at all of us fools as we freeze our tushies off.

If you miss the boat and want to support the vulnerable polar bears, donate a few pennies or dimes per minute that I withstand the cold.  Email if interested.

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Spider style or lack thereof

February 17, 2010

At least my hair was clean today. Magical curlers substituted for the baggy eyes my colleagues could not ignore under fluorescents.  I allowed myself enough sleep last night, finally, and I was punished.

Dear Body of Mine,

I’m cutting out 20 minutes of sleep tonight. Maybe then you won’t swell in your pleasure.  Warning: I will continue to shed minutes until you are obedient.

Love, Kira

Beyond cosmetics, I was not aware of my distasteful outfit until I hit my 10th hour.  I found my uneven khaki pants and over-sized navy sweater (snagged from my Dad’s closet in 7th grade) very much present at the Toastmaster’s public speaking event.  My mind, on the other hand, was barely in attendance.

I showed up to the formal meeting as a guest, clueless of the details and meeting protocol.  As a first-timer, I was called upon to give an impromptu speech for one minute.

All confidence fell to my ankles as I realized that my spider socks were not only creeping into the non-Halloween month of February but also creeping up my leg and clearly visible to those surrounding me.

I don’t actively think about my appearance around other civilians.  I might care what my stubbly date thinks, and I might even want to impress my friends, monthly, with some effort and accessories.

I haven’t decided if I should start caring more or less about style.  How do you know if your appearance is authentic and quirky or just sloppy and disastrous?  Or does it even matter?

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Screenshot while reading NYTimes online

I continue to challenge myself to read The New York Times online with complete ignorance of the advertisements; however, I am weak.  My eyes are drawn to the sexy images, flashy fonts, and familiar brand names.

While online, I was fully engrossed in today’s article. How could you not be intrigued by the emergence of love & marriage amongst first cousins? But my attention was yanked away by a thigh: A thigh belonging to a leg of a model in an advertisement promoting shoes for Jimmy Choo.

I couldn’t help but notice the unrealistic proportion of the model’s leg.  I get the fact that skinny is apparently always in.  I know there is currently a fight against our culture’s obsession with skin & bones.  We are currently losing.

Regardless, I’m still irritated by two elements of this ad:

1.)  If this model’s thigh truly looks like a child’s upper-arm, it’s repulsive.  Someone should give this woman help instead of a paycheck.

2.)  If this image was edited with Photoshop, and the model is actually a healthy thin woman, why does the fashion world still need to create this absurd falsification of a body image?

Yes, this ad was successful in that it caught my attention.  Congrats.  I never did return to my incestuous article, unfortunately.

More importantly to me, this ad was an absolute failure in our society’s struggle against eating disorders.  Send me screen shots that irritate you.

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Fashion forward five-year-olds

September 20, 2009


While at the zoo this weekend, I noticed a stylish little girl wearing assorted animal prints. The zainy mix motivated me to juxtapose my own zebra and leopard prints. Could I be as bold as this five-year-old?  It made me think…

This kindergartener wasn’t actually the daring one; one of her parents made the adventurous fashion move.  Why not?

I am 100% positive that I will test out potential fashion trends on my future kids (not anytime soon).  Since certain design elements intimidate me,  I’ll play with fashion and dress up the future little tyke.   Trends will spread via kindergarten.

If you’re in search for the next BIG thing this fall, look no more at the display windows.  Hang out at the nearby playground.  Just don’t be creepy.

Color on a Monday and send to me.

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