Category: Rant

This Is Spring

Anthropologie Pilcro floral jeans
Vest, Old Navy; sweater, J. Crew Factory; jeans, Anthropologie; boots, Josef Seibel; necklaces, Tiffany & J. Crew

Only in Edmonton. Seriously, this happened in one night, two days after the start of “official” spring:

Anthropologie Pilcro floral jeans

I had been planning to wear this outfit with cute pink flats (and sans vest), but them’s the breaks. As it is, I’m not sure if the cut of these jeans goes with my moto boots, but I was fresh out of options. The reality is that the pants are now one size (or 2?) too big, but I’m just not ready to let them go; so I’m hoping to wear them as boyfriend jeans, which I hope is just a fancy marketing term for “loose”. What say you?

Anthropologie Pilcro floral jeans
yep, that IS snow *looks again* still snow


Forget quantum physics. One of the most difficult concepts for people to grasp is the concept of value.

Don’t believe me? Watch Buy Me or Real Estate Intervention, TV shows that follow property owners through the process of selling their homes. Ninety nine percent of them will come across as deeply delusional individuals (and a large majority as unpleasantly so), even though it is safe to assume that many of them are otherwise nice, regular folks. And if you want some first-hand experience, check out Kijiji.

I’ve used Kijiji a few times in the last year or so, with mixed success, both as a seller and a buyer. One thing I learned real quick was that people don’t understand how “value” works. Each thing has at least 2 values: what it’s worth to the seller (usually a lot), and what it’s worth to a buyer (usually a lot less). For the most part, people tend to over-estimate the value of their own things – after all, they bought them in the first place because they liked them – and under-estimate the depreciation factor. Too many of them have bought into the marketing slogan that you can “invest” by buying certain things, as if every car, gizmo or pair of shoes is a collectible Star Wars action figure or something. It is extremely rare for consumer goods to hold their value over time; a gold Rolex or Hermés bag might be the sort of things that come closest. [As an aside, this is another reason why paying full retail prices for clothes, in particular, is not a savvy proposition.]

People also overestimate the motivation of buyers. That really nice whatever for which you paid a fortune last year? The buyer has lived without and can continue to live without it just fine. Sure, they like it … but if they really, really, desperately wanted it, they would have gone and bought it from the store … just like you. And if they couldn’t afford to pay full retail price, they’re probably not going to want to pay 75% of the price either (for something you’ve been using for a year).

Now, not all sellers are like that. After all, I’ve picked up a few bargains on Kijiji in my time. And not all buyers are reasonable either. As a buyer, you have to do your homework too – first, to protect yourself and, second, to be able to negotiate successfully. You have to be able to recognize a decent price when you see it. Don’t low-ball someone who’s trying to be reasonable on an item you actually want, because you’re running the risk of pissing off the seller away from the bargaining table. Of course, that’s not to say that you should offer more than you’re willing to spend; just be realistic about whether the amount you’re willing to spend is likely to ever come close to the amount the seller is willing to accept. Which means, yeah, if I’m listing an authentic Coach bag for $160, $80 will get you exactly nothing. Oy vey!

Ginger snaps

“It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window.”

Of course it was a blonde. It’s always a blonde. From Cinderella onwards, it’s the same story. Gentlemen prefer blondes. And, sure, sometimes they marry brunettes. But what about the gingers? Tell me … who’s looking out for the gingers?

I’ll tell you who: no one. We’ve got “kick a ginger” day and Ariel, the flipping mermaid, as a consolation prize. We’ve got Pippi Longstocking and jokes about Lindsay Lohan’s lady bits. The fact that other women might say “oh, what lovely hair colour, I wish mine was like that” doesn’t make up for any of it. Because the thing is — they can have it. It comes in a bottle, and takes about 15 minutes. What it doesn’t take, for the bottle gingers, is a painful adolescence and a lifetime of remarks about fiery temperaments and other such, well, tantrum-inspiring nonsense.

Some women have a contentious relationship with their bodies. For as long as I remember, I’ve had one with my hair. As a little girl, I fervently dreamed and prayed for long, curly blonde hair the way some people dream about winning the lottery. All I ever got for my trouble were salad bowl haircuts from my grandmother. As soon as I could convince my mother to let me, I began to experiment with hair colour, slowly making my way through the colour spectrum. I’ve been everything from a (strawberry) blonde to a rich mahogany brunette, and I’ve loved (almost) every second of it. It was only recently that, in growing back my hair after an extreme pixie cut, I began to embrace my ginger. I haven’t coloured my hair in over a year and, finally, my hair is back to its natural state. Of course, it’s not the deep copper hue that plagued my childhood, but a mellower auburn that, if perhaps less striking, is also less evocative of carrots. I’ve briefly debated whether to colour my hair for my upcoming nuptials, but ultimately decided against it. Let it be a testament that, at the grand old age of almost-30, I am finally at peace with my calamitous hair.

See, I told you — carrots!