As my consumerism tends to swerve between "being good" and "being bad" I should probably just invest in these angel and devil shoulder pins. Perhaps a literal reminder may help me to be "good" more often...even if they don't work, how often do you get the chance to wear shoulder jewelry?

Last week was rather hectic...so it wasn’t until the weekend that I had the chance to sit down and mull over Gold Sphere’s comment on my tweed versus leopard coat post..."you already have a great leopard coat", she wrote...and, I have to admit, I do...vintage, 1980's, voluminous, plush, Emporio Armani...an amazing combination of cute and utilitarian in sub-zero windchills.

But...irrationally...even though I own the aforementioned lc...it didn't fit my current ideal (slim, printed or very little nap, femme fatale)...and was therefore passed over in my thinking. Realistically I knew it existed...I just didn't want to admit the fact to myself. Which is why GS's comment struck such a cord...there's always that elusive search for something that is close to what you own, yet slightly different. I suppose it's why some people end up with fifty pairs of jeans...or dozens of almost-identical t-shirts...or, in my case, a little bit of everything. There's the hunt for perfection...and there's the "I'll buy it now because it's close to what I want"...and much as I try to aim for the former I generally find myself veering wildly, like a drunk driver, towards the latter.

I'm getting better...thanks, in part, to taking the time to write own my wants, needs, and desires in this blog...but it's obviously something that is, you could say, a work in progress. Which means the leopard (a new leopard) has been removed from the coat wish list...and "something leopard" has been added to my clothing/accessories wish lists...an example of identifying the want...but buying it in a form that isn't currently lurking in my closet.

By this point you've probably picked up on the fact that I have a slight addiction to Liberty florals...and, it's also likely that you've been bludgeoned to the point of insensibility by my (sadly much more inexpensive) love of Hermès...so you can image the glee with which I danced round my apartment when I heard of a collaboration between the two...

If I was in London I'd probably camp out at the temporary boutique that Hermès is setting up in Liberty's scarf department...the lure of the design (an over-sized dressing up box)...the activities (providing the opportunity to amp up your scarf tying skills)...and, most importantly, the limited edition Tana Lawn scarves emblazoned with Hermès' Ex Libris logo...would be too much for me.

Sadly I don't have any plans to be in London on September 6th (when the boutique opens)...or at any point during its six week run...which means I have to put my trust in the internet Gods and hope that I can satiate two of my addictions online.

A fair number of disturbing, PR-related, missives hit my inbox...but the "dear God, why did you send this to me?" award has been won by an invitation to a 'Cocktail Party Shopping Event' entitled "How to Dress to Land a Millionaire". Few things have depressed me more than the news that, for three hours at Sak's Manhattan outpost, I could focus on "fun, fashion, and flirtation" and learn how to "develop a fabulous wardrobe day to night...the qualities millionaires look for in their partners...and...how to further develop (my) package".

I've never been so scared in my life. I know times are tough but is this really what we've been reduced to..."packaging" ourselves in a dubious attempt to marry money?

Personally I have a feeling that Saks may be the only ones coming out of this any financially better off...thanks to the $50 entry fee and hypothetical clothing sales during the millionaire-cocktail induced frenzy...though the information that 10% of the proceeds will be donated to Dress for Success suggests that someone has a sense of irony.

I'm going to venture into complete impracticality here...because, for someone who always manages to lug round twenty or thirty utterly unnecessary items in her handbag on a daily basis, a hard-sided envelope bag is about as impractical as you can get...but when the bag in question is made from shiny red lipstick-hued leather and suede...and comes with its own mirror and wallet nestled inside...and conjures up images of elegant femme fatales of days gone by...a girl can dream.

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu, There's a little marble cross below the town; There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew, And the Yellow God forever gazes down.

He was known as "Mad Carew" by the subs at Khatmandu, He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell; But for all his foolish pranks, he was worshipped in the ranks, And the Colonel's daughter smiled on him as well.

He had loved her all along, with a passion of the strong, The fact that she loved him was plain to all. She was nearly twenty-one and arrangements had begun To celebrate her birthday with a ball.

He wrote to ask what present she would like from Mad Carew; They met next day as he dismissed a squad; And jestingly she told him then that nothing else would do But the green eye of the little Yellow God.

On the night before the dance, Mad Carew seemed in a trance, And they chaffed him as they puffed at their cigars: But for once he failed to smile, and he sat alone awhile, Then went out into the night beneath the stars.

He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and tunic torn, And a gash across his temple dripping red; He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day, And the Colonel's daughter watched beside his bed.

He woke at last and asked if they could send his tunic through; She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod; He bade her search the pocket saying "That's from Mad Carew," And she found the little green eye of the god.

She upbraided poor Carew in the way that women do, Though both her eyes were strangely hot and wet; But she wouldn't take the stone and Mad Carew was left alone With the jewel that he'd chanced his life to get.

When the ball was at its height, on that still and tropic night, She thought of him and hurried to his room; As she crossed the barrack square she could hear the dreamy air Of a waltz tune softly stealing thro' the gloom.

His door was open wide, with silver moonlight shining through; The place was wet and slipp'ry where she trod; An ugly knife lay buried in the heart of Mad Carew, 'Twas the "Vengeance of the Little Yellow God."

There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu, There's a little marble cross below the town; There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew, And the Yellow God forever gazes down.

- J Milton Hayes

I have a feeling that I may be in the minority when it comes to my enthusiasm for these images from Aquascutum's Fall/Winter ad campaign...because, it has to be faced, anything that has the nickname "rat of the skies" is not destined for mass popularity. And of course...there's the side issue...if my vacation photos are anything to go by...that people get a tad squeamish when they see a pigeon on your head.

For me though, these pictures serve a dual purpose...allowing me to both covet the trench...and reminisce about pleasant times spent feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square...before the bureaucrats banned it.

When you think about it, discussions on 'age appropriate dressing' tend to be one-sided...focusing on mini-skirts, low-cut tops, and lycra...otherwise known as the key components of the bad girl school of dressing (you know, the popular one who cut class and smoked behind the bike sheds). You rarely hear anything about the pieces that scream actual school uniform...like this color-blocked cardigan from J Crew...a cardigan that I like...but which does kindle a few playground related memories.

What causes this lack of parity in the mutton dressed as lamb stakes? Or is "virtuous and scholarly"...oh, alright, and just a little nerdy...an acceptable dress code for any age group?

You can always tell when someone isn't forced to wear a suit on a regular basis...they're the ones who actually enjoy wearing them on the rare instance that they choose to do so. Not that this is a suit...more a non-suit...a jacket and pants united by a color and a lack of limb coverage... Jacket - See by Chloe, ribbon top - United Bamboo, pants - Prada, glitter flats - Me Too

A pre-Fall battle is currently being waged between the two sides of my shopping personality...which, for the sake of this discussion, we'll call the practical and the "ooh, is that something shiny over there?"...

Practical is discussing the merits of tweed...a very practical choice. Of course, if p. was being truly practical she'd point out that I don't really need a new winter coat at all...but there are levels of practicality and you have to be realistic about these things...so she bowed to the inevitable and started talking about tweed.

Her more whimsical alter ego, on the other hand, is pushing for something in a leopard...not the plush, faux fur kind...more the flattened pile of a vintage find...or a print.

The lines have been drawn in the sand...let the battle commence...

This bag struck me as very "vintage Prada"...except that it's "new Anthropologie" and, more importantly, 50% off. Of course, I'm not in the market for a tote right now...which tends to be the way of such things...you generally find what you're not actually looking for...

Not traveling...just thinking about travel...thanks to the airplanes on my bag. Travel sickness confirmed when a silk-screened plane gives you wanderlust...

Much as I love outfits one and two in the video...the simplicity of the first...the girliness of the second...I was left pondering one of life's little questions. How does anyone keep white ankle socks so blindingly white...especially when worn with open sandals...as they wander the wet, dirty, summer streets?

When I was a child...and, for some inexplicable reason, had a much better profile than I currently possess...my mother took me to a local department store where a very nice lady cut my silhouette, Victorian-style, out of black craft paper. I'm not sure why the store was offering this somewhat unique service...or why my mother decided that the rather funereal outcome was the perfect way to record my childhood (most people at the time, after all, being perfectly happy with a Polaroid)...but she did...and because I can look at them and reminisce about pudding bowl haircuts, thin turtlenecks, and retrousse nosed profiles I'm rather glad.

And, after stumbling across Daydream Nation's silhouette brooch, I can't help thinking how fun it would be to translate my paper memories into something a little shinier.

A certain blurring of the lines is taking place this Fall...in a back room someplace...the advertising boffins noticed all the blogs and streetstyle websites...and little lightbulbs went on over their heads...while not a ‘Eureka!’ moment I’m sure one or two cries of ‘Eek!’ were heard.

How else to explain the current fascination with advertising featuring either “real people”...like Anthropologie’s latest catalog...shot on “r.p.”s in Paris, London, and New York...or the DKNY Jeans ads photographed by The Sartorialist...featuring models but shot a la streetstyle?

The thing is, while I'm happy for the "real people" involved in this, I can't help but feel that I'm being patted on the head and given a piece of candy by Uncle Addy. They're jumping on a bandwagon...in this case, our shiny red bandwagon...and I don't think I like it. Perhaps I'm in the minority but, personally, I'm neither more nor less likely to buy something because the model is "real"...I'd rather look at the products...weigh up their quality and how they'll work in my wardrobe...and leave the "real" looks on "real" people where they belong...in the "real" world...every outfit uniquely belonging to the individual...not just another contrived, formulaic, advertising mechanism.

"...and I remember one rainy morning in the city of Palermo, the street was ablaze with scarlet umbrellas" - Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's the old, old story...woman has fortune stolen by lover...woman dashes off to Paris where she contemplates suicide...woman decides that if she's going to die her lover is going to be along for the ride...woman spends the time waiting for ex-lover to hit town by shopping (at Dior, Roger Vivier, and Cartier), hanging out with Brit band, and having a decadent (though strangely life-affirming) good time...woman...ah, but that would be telling...

I'm currently indulging a girl crush on Monica Vitti...last week it was Modesty Blaise...this week 'La femme écarlate'...aka 'La donna scarlatta' in Italy...'The Scarlet Lady' in Europe...and 'The Bitch Wants Blood' in the US (there were obviously some translation issues in 1960's America). Now I just need to find the equally confusingly translated 'Dramma della gelosia'...aka 'The Pizza Triangle'.

For every high, there is a low...for every mountain, there's a valley...and for every Hermes, there is a beaten up pair of Converse waiting to tag along...

It's difficult to look at Marc by Marc Jacobs' Flights of Fancy shopper without being hit by a certain amount of déjà vu...your mind going back to 2002, and the bags created by Julie Verhoeven for Louis Vuitton. The only problem being that Verhoeven's bags were whimsical, luxurious, and original...whereas their current nemesis feels uncomfortably like an idea being re-hashed purely for financial gain.

I understand the concept of "revisiting your archives" but this just feels a little off...or maybe I'm biased as I'm still lusting over Verhoeven's version...

We're getting close to the dangerous time of year...when you are so fed up with your summer wardrobe...and the thought of wearing that t-shirt or that dress again fills you with dread...awakens a sudden urge within you to buy something (anything) just to add something new to the mix. Well, buy something or dredge something up from the darkest depths of the closet...like this chambray shirt. Inherited from my mother...who had a love affair with all things Ralph Lauren during the 80's...from his "Country" label, which I'm not sure is even still in existence (RL's one of those brands that has so many off-shoots that I find it difficult to keep track)...I love its broken-in-softness but rarely wear it as it's a shade too "Little House on the Prairie" for my liking. However, in a bid to avoid L.S.S.S. (Late Summer Shopping Syndrome), I'm willing to pretend I'm running through a meadow...

Everytime I purge my list of "places to check in case I find a deal" I find myself regretting the impulse. Case in point...I'd somewhat removed Gilt Groupe from my shopping radar...their clothing was heavily reduced but as the items were rarely anything that I'd have bought at full price the exercise of checking their site seemed a little redundant. Thankfully I was bored one day...I hadn't realized that they sold beauty products...and on the afternoon I visited they featured Dr. Hauschka's botanic (and organic) lotions and potions. Body oils and face care products were reduced by at least 50%...and I'm a girl who likes (rather expensive) goop.

The "haul" arrived yesterday...lemon body oil...rosemary body oil...and a face care kit...for a total cash outlay of $5 (I had a couple of referral bonuses waiting to be used). Which means my p.t.c.i.c.i.f.a.d. list remains agonizingly long...and I feel compelled to check all of the entries because, in this case, I really did find a deal.

What a pathetic consumer I turned out to be...my first concern...when I heard that Prada had opened a new "concept" store in Paris...based on Guillaume Apollinaire’s poem, 'Le Pont Mirabeau'...was not "ooh, I wonder if any special goodies were created for this"...nope, instead I sat around wondering how the poem had been brought to life (courtesy of bricks, mortar, and a lavish decorating budget)...

Beneath Pont Mirabeau there flows the Seine and so our loves. How much must I again recall that joy will ever follow pain? The night hours strike and have their say. The days will leave, but here I stay. Hand in hand and resting face to face through bridging arms we watch the waters race, the waves so weary in their endless chase. The night hours strike and have their say. The days will leave, but here I stay. Love goes on and like the water's flow it goes away. Life continues, slow it seems, but hope is ever violent though. The night hours strike and have their say. The days will leave, but here I stay. There pass the days and pass the weeks and then that time is past and love won't come again. Beneath Pont Mirabeau there flows the Seine.

To be honest, at least from pictures, I think this is one of those ideas that sounded better than it actually turned out...this looks to be more of an homage to the bridge itself (the first in the city to be built from metal)...than a physical manifestation of the spirit of lost love present in the poem...unless, that is, the "joy will ever follow pain" is the joy that you will feel from owning your purchase after the pain of handing over the cash to pay for it.

It's probably lucky that I don't have the money to allow my skull fixation free reign..."too much of a good thing" could result in the kind of Gothic nightmare that would have given Charles Addams bad dreams (from a design perspective at least).

Of course, that doesn't stop a girl dreaming...about golden cocktail stirrers topped with skulls...infinitely more appealing than plastic ones topped with pink flamingos and the name of some long-forgotten bar...or am I the only one who finds random cocktail stirrers in my handbags?

I know that, for me at least, when it comes to designer bicycles...some of the thrill has gone. Initially there was the draw of something new and the excitement that comes from being able to buy something that's been "designed" and not just thrown together purely as a way of getting from point A to B...but now that everyone has their bicycle up for sale...including Urban Outfitter's Lego-ish version that allows you to choose the color of every bicycle part...including the chain...I'm getting a little jaded.

Having said that, I couldn't resist a little momento mori...in the shape of this James Perse Beach Cruiser. Matte black and retro-futuristic you feel like it should be ridden on a pathway to hell rather than towards a day of sand and surf...

It's strange...much as I enjoy the the fact that you can be immensely lazy and use Polyvore to formulate outfits without, you know, having to do anything as labor intensive as walking over to the closet and pulling out a few clothes...I rarely actually use it (could it be that it's too lazy even for me?).

Today though...stuck in the house waiting for FedEx to deliver my Prairies de Paris jacket...it called out to me. Of course, despite owning the bag and close approximations of the scarf and boots, I don't have a military dress in my closet...so, of course, I now add one to my mental wish list...and remember another reason why I usually stay away from Polyvore...

One of the wardrobe staples that, in my humble opinion, you can never have too many of...striped t-shirts (at least, that's what I tell myself every time I buy another one). Currently lurking in my closet...in varying degrees of Gap-worthy foldedness (just washed, neatly folded...after a few days of "shall I wear this? no, not today", it's more a case of hastily bundled back on the shelf)...there's the full gamut...long-sleeved, short-sleeved, cap-sleeved, classic Breton blue and white, and more punk-ish color combinations. Or, should I say, almost the full gamut...because there's definitely no "is this an ironic take on atripes or a tribute to nosy neighbors everywhere" tee like this one. Methinks that the situation needs to be rectified...

As you know by now, I love a tote bag...actually, I love all bags, but tote bags make me feel virtuous as they're a less expensive way of feeding my bag habit than a lot of the other options I could mention. Especially when the tote bag in question is an expensive bag/cheap bag hybrid...like these Hermes and Chanel emblazoned totes from Oonagh O'Hagen For Browns Focus. Not your basic cheapie these have distinct fronts and backs...2-D copies of their more expensive cousins...

Today was "nourish your inner geek day"...i.e. a long-anticipated visit to a once a year secondhand book fair. Of course, crawling round on the floor...negotiating the legs (and walkers) of the various old ladies you encounter...does place certain restrictions on an outfit... On the upside, one of my book bags finally has the opportunity to be used to carry books... Ribbon top - United Bamboo, jeans - Joe's, moccasins - Minnetonka, bag - MOMA exhibition

I've said it before...but, just in case anyone missed it, let me repeat myself...

Okay, there's probably some tarmac...maybe some loose stones...even a little shale...but, above all else, hundreds of thousands of g.i.'s...getting ground underfoot.

You may have guessed by now (at least if you're a regular reader) that I succumbed to a sale purchase...namely the Les Prairies de Paris floral jacket that I mentioned I was putting on "sales watch" back in May. Theoretically the fact that this was pre-planned should remove any feelings of guilt...in reality the period of guilt was simply extended over a few months...

Amongst my daily online reads lurks the "guilty pleasure"...the heady mix of Brit-based fashion, gossip, and beauty that is Grazia...or, as I think of it, the perfect way to wake up (when paired with a cup of coffee).

The only troublesome part of this...apart from Mr. Heb mocking my choice of reading material (which is unfair as I work my way over to the "proper" news websites once my brain has decided to greet the day)...is that I find myself ooh-ing and ah-ing over items which will never find their way over to this side of the pond. Items like...the denim skirt on the right. Part of a styling story it caught my eye...the dark-but-not-too-dark lightweight denim...the length...the not-too-loose-not-too-tight style...and, from the Gap, so obviously not mind-blowingly expensive. All well and good until my brain kicked into gear and I remembered that US Gap...despite all of this "European design editions" talk...doesn't sell a lot of the items that are in its UK stores. Which goes to show that Euripides was right...

I can never decide if this skirt is a pencil with aspirations to be a bubble...or a depressed bubble pushed into suicidal pencil-related tendencies...it's neither one style nor the other...betwixt and between...a bubcil...a penub...a dream. T-shirt - Uniqlo, skirt - Alice Ritter, hi-tops - Converse

When the email hit my Inbox announcing Net-a-Porter’s iPhone application I have to admit that I uttered a little groan. “Oh no”, cried my frugal inner voice (the one that tries to dissuade me from impulse purchases and other financial outlays that I will come to regret in the, not so distant, future), “do I really need to be able to buy $600 suede shoes or a $1,650 flannel dress when I’m sitting on the bus...waiting in line at the post office...or performing any other activity that requires a time-wasting activity (like my usual fallback options...staring blankly into space whilst listening to music or reading a book...both satisfyingly frugal pastimes)?” The answer that even my conspicuous consumer inner voice (the one that considers shopping as a hobby) had to give was “no”.

No one really needs this app...but (like most things that you don't actually need) it's kind of fun. The images are small...but not too small to see the detail of the clothes...the overall look is pretty slick...and, after some random button pressing to see what's hiding where, it's easy to maneuver around in. Though, thanks to the aforementioned random clicking, I did discover that if you click on the shopping bag icon without actually, you know, "shopping" the following message appears..."Unfortunately your shopping bag is empty".

It's subtle...but your wrist has been slapped...you know you made some social gaffe...like using the salad fork to prong your fillet mignon...a faux pas that should be remedied immediately...by buying something.

If there's a 12-step program out there for non-leather motorcycle jackets I really need to find it...fast. Not content with being the proud owner of Heimstone's silky/lurex version...and APC's crisp, navy cotton number...I'm now pondering this option in pale gray terry cloth. Yep...that means I'm so far gone down the road of moto-dom that I'm actually weighing up the pros and cons of something which could be classified as "biker goes to the beach" or "Gidget meets the Hell's Angels"... Now do you see why I think I might need a little help?

I hate to be the grinch who stole summer but we’ve got to that point in the season where the streets are filled with short wearers and I, for one, would like to lodge a complaint.

Now I’ll admit up front that I fall very firmly into the anti-short category; it has to be faced that in the majority of instances they’re just not the most flattering option. Some people (we’ll call them Experimental Group A) look incredible in shorts; walking goddesses in abbreviated trews. The only problems is that E.G.A. would also look good in a brown paper bag and, as such, are a tiny subset of the population.

Sadly, the rest of us fall into Experimental Groups B-Z; Group B comprised of those with marginally less perfection in their lower limbs and, at the other end of the spectrum, Group Z being those of us who, even in the sweltering depth of summer, refuse to be parted from either some thick opaque tights or a pair of (full-length) pants.

There’s no shame here, Group Q probably look like a dream in a dress and Group M are, in all likelihood, divine in a drop-crotch. But, simply because it says July on the calendar, there’s a feeling that everyone must wear shorts. Perhaps it’s time to take a short break...

As much as I love the seventies feel of these wide-legged jeans they're one of those pieces that are irritatingly hard to find anything to wear with...t-shirts (especially tighter ones) can be a little too "Three's Company" for my tastes...and other combinations can veer terribly close to skateboarder chic... Then it occurs to me...something that is supposed to be a 'basic' has suddenly become a lot of work... Wide-legged jeans - Rag & Bone, plaid shirt - Ralph Lauren, bag - vintage Hermes, hi-tops - Converse

On the whole, I'm not someone who delights in home repairs...anything beyond changing a light bulb or hanging a picture and I'm out of my comfort zone...and heading towards the phone to call a plumber or electrician. Of course, I'm then subjected to withering disdain when the aforementioned plumber comes to do the work..."this is easy, you could have done this yourself"..."of course you think it's easy!", I want to cry, "you're a plumber!"..."your 'easy' could quickly turn into a flood of biblical proportions in my hands". A set of these William Morris patterned tools, however, might entice me to take a few tentative steps into the land of DIY...

I don't know if it's thanks to the economy...if the constant onslaught of doom and gloom prophecies are finally getting to me...or whether my plan to think before I buy is actually (gasp) working...but recently I've found myself visiting websites...ogling the massive reductions and...rather than snapping up a few steals and deals as I would have done in prior years...taking a virtual stroll through the aisles and leaving (virtuously empty-handed)...

Everything's "nice" and "cheap"...both dread words because nice is about as insipid as you can get and cheap is relative (if it started out at $850 and it's now $220 it's certainly massively reduced...but is it "cheap"?)...but, until that magic moment when something jumps out at me as being "special", it's proving remarkably easy to ignore all of the inducements to shop.

Is it me? Has the Scottish frugality in my genetic make-up finally taken over...holding my other emotions hostage? Or is anyone else experiencing a certain lethargy when confronted by the current sale extravaganza?

It's impossible to tell from my photograph but the globular bird house with the sitting tenant actually contained 3 or 4 baby sparrows (apologies...one of my pet peeves is when people use nursery language to describe things...but, according to Google, a young sparrow is called a "host" and the sentence "actually contained 3 or 4 host" didn't make a lot of sense) which thrust their heads out, mouths open, indiscriminately whenever any bird flew near...

Infinitely more impressive...especially when compared to my inability to form a sentence around the word "host"...was the birdhouse's architecture...

"The lustre of diamonds is invigorated by the interposition of darker bodies; the lights of a picture are created by the shades; the highest pleasure which nature has indulged to sensitive perception is that of rest after fatigue" - Samuel Johnson

I’m not going to claim that this post is anything other than fantasy...but then...don’t we all need a little fantasy in our lives now and then? Especially when it features diamond-encrusted skulls...though, when I think about it, that’s probably just the stuff that my dreams are made of...anyway...I couldn't resist showing these images from Dior Joaillerie's latest collection..."Roi et Reine".

They're over-the-top...and more than a little tacky...but then I think we all need a touch of both of those in our lives on occasion as well...

Today's quote pretty much sums up everything that I wish my outfits could be...a little French...a little punk...a little chic...and, just a little bourgeois.

I’d never get a tattoo...I’m too big of a coward about physical pain and, more importantly, the tendency to change my mind at the drop of a hat doesn’t bode well for anything with that level of permanency. I do, however, love the imagery of classic tattoos...anchors, hearts, the ubiquitous "Mom", and the I'm-going-to-regret-this-in-a-few-months "insert boy/girl friends name here"...I love them all, just not permanently emblazoned on my flesh. A rug however is a completely different matter...

When it gets this hot I feel like I should be wafting around exclaiming "my, but it's warm in here" in Scarlet O'Hara induced tones...instead, as I'm not really much of a wafter, I'm falling back on the colors and patterns that seem to comprise my summer uniform this year...namely blue and red...and stripes, stripes, stripes.