During the car ride a coworker asked what it would take for us to move there. As in, what pay scale, relocation of friends and family, etc. would it take for you to comfortably move to the sticks. I'm pretty sure I'd be ok there with functioning internet. I mean, I'd be super fat (the restaurant in town featured a veggie plate of fried cheese sticks, fried mushrooms, and fried zucchini... it's troubling that cheese sticks are a vegetable, but let's not digress because that's a whole other rabbit hole...) but so long as I could download my harlequin novels, steam netflix, and eat deliciously awful food, I'd be alright. It's all a matter of perspective, right? I think this likely false sense of confidence can be partly attributed to my love of Hart of Dixie and Gilmore Girls and the idyllic representation of small town life. The only negative was the amount of troubling references to doom and gloom religious ideologies:
Terrifying, right?! Also, it's finally fall! WOOOHOOO! It is officially jeans, long sleeve t, button down, vest, hoodies, uggs (stop it), fleece pants, boots, scarves, etc. etc. etc. weather. Which means it's also annual switch the closet time aka figure out what needs to be trashed, donated, or sent to the dry cleaners before being put in the closet or removed from the closet. Such a clean out is only possible because I have turned my pantry into another closet a la Carrie Bradshaw. Try as I might, I could NOT find an image of Carrie's oven storage, but this will do:
The above is true on many, many levels. But seriously, I spent all morning re-folding tshirts (I adopted the vertical folding method and it has changed my life, changed my life ya'll) and figuring out what I need for fall. In other words, realizing I have 457 shirts that I never wear, a huge pile of sweaters, 8 bazillion scarves (which obviously means I need about 4 more) and not enough fall/winter pants. I went HAM on buying up these super light summer-weight pants (I have them in gray, navy, navy pinstripe, 4 black heel length, and 1 black flats length). But these are not meant for standing outside in the cold (I use that term loosely) waiting for the train and commuting in the elements. A quick perusal of the usual work-wear websites revealed a shocking and unfortunate item which I am praying is not a fall trend: winter gaucho pants.
WHAT?!?! Banana Republic, I don't know what has gotten into you, but it has been a steady and consistent slide into the most hideously designed and impractical clothes ever. Luckily Ann Taylor knows what's up and hasn't fallen victim to what I can only assume must have been an overdose on inhaled glue fumes from a fabric factory. If anyone I know wears gaucho pants with mules, we can no longer be friends. It's a bold statement, but I'm pretty sure it's one I can stand behind, as it would lead me to seriously question your judgment.