Perpetual Purse Bachelorism

Tuesday, September 12, 2017










Purse Swingers:
A Feminist Fashion Blogger's 
Parody of Jon Favreau's 
Movie, Swingers


by 



Meryl A. H. Franzos






August 15, 2017
3rd Draft



1    EXT.  DOWNTOWN PITTSBURGH - NIGHT 
 
 

    The soundtrack opens with Frank Sinatra's "Fly Me to the Moon,"  but it's sung by the Girasole wandering guitarist. 


   A HELICOPTER SHOT OF THE PITTSBURGH.
 
   The pool of golden light disintegrates into a thousand
 points of light as we rapidly zoom past downtown to the neighborhood of 
 Shadyside.
 
 We are just above the tops of the highest buildings as we approach the
 street lights on the corner of Walnut and Copeland.

 
 We are heading north at tree top level. A warm glow quickly grows into a trendy
 neighborhood which includes coffee shops, bookstores, and clothing stores.

 We drop to eye level as we spy on the sidewalk of an Italian restaurant.
 
MATCH CUT TO: 
2    EXT.  "GIRASOLE" RESTAURANT - OUTDOOR CAFE TABLE - NIGHT 
MERYL takes a sip of her glass of wine and looks uncomfortable. She is listening. 
She sits across from herfriend, OLIVIA, at a cafe table. Olivia is talking. The moon glows 
above the trees and lights twinkle in the background. Girasole is alive with 
beautiful people, clinking silverware, and a wandering musician just 
ending his rendition of Frank.

OLIVIA
I just want to see you happy and settled.


MERYL
(sighs and looks away)
I just can't seem to find the right one.

Beat.

MERYL
(pulls up a picture on her phone)
I still think of him.

OLIVIA
Of Christian?

MERYL
Yeah. He walked out of that party with someone else.
There were no words. No closure. Nothing.
He just vanished.
OLIVIA
(tired of her friend's inability to move on, finishes glass of wine and plunks purse on table)
That was six, nearly seven years ago.
Beat.


MERYL
(Oggles new handbag)
Wow. Bravo friend! What's a girl gotta do to find a nice bag like that? 

OLIVIA
(waves to waiter for check)
Easy. You just need to get back out there.

MERYL
It's been so long, I don't know what to do anymore. 
I need a wingwoman.



Waiter drops check on table, Olivia hands her credit card and the check back to the waiter.


OLIVIA
I'm in a relationship, I can't be out carousing with you--Hey, you going to Joanie's baby shower tomorrow?

MERYL
(wrinkles nose)
Do I have to?

OLIVIA
Since, I'm hosting...Yes, you have to. 

Waiter hands bill folder back to Olivia. Olivia signs.

MERYL
(chugs entire glass of wine)
Then I guess I'll be there. Thanks for the vino. veritas.


DISSOLVE TO:
 
3    INT.  JOANIE'S SHOWER - DAY   


Close up on blue hydrangea bouquet that Meryl carries into Joanie's home. Meryl's wearing a leather jacket and jeans. She sets the bouquet by a pile of gifts. Beautiful women are everywhere, eating cake, and drinking bellinis and mimosas and wearing lacy dresses. Blue balloons and streamers decorate the primarily grey and white great room of a suburban McMansion. Women gather around JOANIE, a glowing, beautiful blonde that is seated in a lounge chair, with a beautiful box in front of her. Blue satin ribbons fall alongside it.

OLIVIA
(steps in front of Meryl)
 Nice of you to dress up. We're serving bellinis or a mimosas. What's your poison?

MERYL
Do you have any whiskey? 

OLIVIA
(Puts hand on hip)
Brown liquor at 10:30 in the morning?

MERYL
(shrugs)
You can splash some coffee in there if it makes you feel better.

OLIVIA
(bats her hand in the air at Meryl to get away)


JOANIE
(looks up and her eyes light up)
Meryl! You came!

MERYL
(places a peck on her cheek)
Hi there! How's the new momma doing?


JOANIE
(looks lovingly at the box full of white flannel and tissue)
My life is forever changed. You want to see him?

MERYL
You know I do. 

Women at the shower gasp and circle around Joanie as she parts the white dustcloths and carefully lifts out a  tiny, Louis Vuitton wallet and cradles it like a baby. The women coo and squeal. 



MERYL
Joanie, he's absolutely perfect in every way.

 A VOICE FROM THE BACK
Move! Get out of the way, I want to see him!

Some women gasp and complain as someone pushes their way up to the front row. GINGER emerges with two glasses of champagne in her hands. 

GINGER
Let me see that handsome bastard! Sooo cute.
 I'm going to eat him up.
Beat.

 GINGER
(sees Meryl and speaks in an excited, by delicate manner)
Heeey, there player. How you been? I haven't seen you in...

MERYL
(puts hands on hips)
Forever. I know.

Ginger pushes Meryl off to the side and hands her a champagne flute. Meryl frowns at the lipstick on the glass and sets it down. Joanie bounces little Louis on her lap, and the women fill in the newly vacant spot to get a closer glimpse of baby Louis.

 GINGER
(downs champagne)
so what's up? you playing the field? 

MERYL
(sniffs) 
Hardly. 
Beat.
MERYL
I haven't exactly been in the mood since...

 GINGER
(Scoffs)
Since Christian? You're better off. Christian was a skank.

MERYL
Hey!

GINGER
You need to get out there!

MERYL
(looks for a way out of conversation)
So everyone keeps saying...

JOANIE
(beaming like an angelic mother, gets up)
I'm going to clean him up, get him in some fresh cotton.

MERYL
(smiles and waves at little Louis)

GINGER
(a bit insincerely)
Okay you do that hun!
Beat. 

GINGER
Hey listen. You and me. Let's ditch this lame scene and hit the outlet mall. 

MERYL
(wrinkles face up)
Ah, no...I'm not...

GINGER
Come on, it'll be fun. You should see the 
beautiful babies out there! 
You'll want to sink your claws in them!

MERYL
I can't...I'm not ready.

GINGER
You can and you will, baby. 
Take a drink, cuz it's time and we're going.
you and me, baby. 

MERYL
(sighs and finishes drink with lipstick on it).


CUT TO:
 

 4    EXT.  BANGER OUTLET MALL - HUGE STORE INTERIOR - DAY
 
The interior is bleak. Fluorescent lights pour down from the dingy drop ceiling,
racks of season's old purses hang from silver armatures like rotten apples. 
Old women circle the store like vultures with grey shopping carts. Muzak plays over the 
speakers. It sounds like Hank Williams' I'll Be A Bachelor 'Til I Die. 
 
GINGER
This place is banging! Look at all the beautiful babies!
 
MERYL
This place is dead. 
 
GINGER
This place is hot, baby. You love deals? Of course you do, who doesn't?
 This place is rife with deals, baby.
 
 
Hunched over, elderly women are slowly rifling through bargain bins of old 
monogram purses, moaning to one another like zombies. It's almost like an old-folks
home let a tour bus out here. 
  
MERYL 
(looking around, whispers)  
This is a fucking, post-apocalyptic Romero film!
 
 
Ginger is unflappable. Meryl and Ginger keep walking through the accessories section. 
They walk by a huge marketing sign that says, 
"Join the Club that saves you even more with special perks"
 
GINGER
(Stops and pinches nipples)
Ooooh, I'm getting a special perk right now.
 
MERYL
(disgusted)
What are you talking about? They're all skanks here!
 
GINGER
Baby, they're all beautiful babies here.
 
MERYL
Beautiful Babies don't end up as factory seconds. This is a skank zone.
 
GINGER
(Twirling around)
What? no, look at all the honeys! Look there's Coach, Michael, Franco...
 
Beat.
GINGER
(stops)
You know what your problem is? 
 
MERYL
(puts hands together) 
Oh, pleeeaaase. Tell me. 
 
GINGER
You put 'em up on a pedestal, when all you gotta do is 
kill the sweet little bunny with your sharp claws,
cuz you're a COUGAR, baby!
 
MERYL
A cougar? Wow. Ok. You really know how to kick a bitch when she's down.
 
GINGER
I didn't mean cougar, cougar. I meant some kind of predatory cat.
 A panther, a cheetah, hell, you're a 
mother fucking lioness!
 
 Meryl stops and cocks her head at huge white purse with silver grommets all over it. 
Ginger scoops it up, places it in her hands and shoves her toward the register. 
 
GINGER
(whispers)
His name is Michael Kors.Put it on layaway and think about it. Give it a call later. 
You're so money, you don't even know it. 
 
Another woman steps in line behind her with a purse. Feeling pressured now, Meryl
hands the purse over and gets a layaway ticket with a phone number on it. She 
looks at it, then folds it in half and puts it in her pocket. 
 
 
 


CUT TO: 
 
 5   INT.  MERYL'S HOME - LATER THAT NIGHT   
 
Meryl opens the door and flicks on the lights in her minimally furnished home.

She drops her keys, credit cards, cash, phone and lipstick on the table
and makes a bee line to the answering machine.

She pushes the button.


ANSWERING MACHINE
(synthesized voice)
No calls. You're a loser.


Meryl collapses on her couch.

Beat.

She pulls out the layaway ticket. She stares at the number. 
She looks at the clock. 10:30PM

She looks at the ticket.

She thinks better of it and puts the ticket away.

Beat. 

She takes the ticket out and picks up her phone. 


ANSWERING MACHINE
(synthesized voice)
Don't do it Meryl.

MERYL
Shut up. 

She dials.
It rings twice, then...

MICHAEL
(recorded)
Hi, this is Michael. Leave a message.
(beep)


MERYL
Hi, this is Meryl. I met you at the outlet mall this afternoon. I called to say, uh, I'm really glad we met and that you should call me back tomorrow or in like two days..or whatever is customary...my number is 412-5
(beep)

Meryl hangs up.

Beat. 

She dials again.

MICHAEL
(recorded)
Hi, this is Michael. Leave a message.
(beep)


MERYL
Hi. Meryl again. I'm only calling because it sounded like your machine cut me off before I gave you my number and I just..
(beep)

MERYL
SHIT!


Meryl hangs up.

Beat. 

She dials again.

MICHAEL
(recorded)
Hi, this is Michael. Leave a message.
(beep)



MERYL
HI. 412-555-5555. That's all I just wanted to make sure you 
had my number. 




Meryl hangs up.

Beat. 

She dials again and is pacing around her bedroom.



MICHAEL
(recorded)
Hi, this is Michael. Leave a message.
(beep)

 MERYL
Hi. It's me. I don't want you to think I'm weird or desperate. (pauses) I just got out of a long term relationship, Well, not just, but I did. I carry around a lot of junk with me and it'd be nice
if I could put my junk in you.
(She regrets saying it immediately,) I mean
(beep)


Meryl calls back right away, pacing the room even faster.


MICHAEL
(recorded)
Hi, this is Michael. Leave a message.
(beep)

MERYL
 I didn't mean put my junk in you like a penis
(beep)

MERYL
FUCK!


Meryl throws phone across the room. Punches pillows on the bed.

Beat. 

Meryl finds phone on the floor and dials again. There's no turning back.

MICHAEL
(recorded)
Hi, this is Michael. Leave a message.
(beep)

MERYL
(frantically)
I DON'T HAVE A PENIS! Listen Michael, maybe you can call me when you get this. Your phone keeps cutting me off and it'd just be easier than me trying to cram it all in-
(beep)


 Meryl dials back immediately.

MICHAEL
(recorded)
Hi, this is Michael. Leave a message.
(beep)

MERYL
I meant the message, not cram my junky penis into you.
(beep)


 Meryl drops phone, drops to knees, and beats head against the bed for a minute. Then picks up phone and re-dials.
 
MICHAEL
(recorded)
Hi, this is Michael. Leave a message.
(beep)

MERYL
 Mike, I don't think this is going to work out. I'm clearly an idiot and not ready...It's all me, it's not you.

MICHAEL
(Live, in person. He picks up the line)
Meryl?

MERYL
Michael! Great! Did you just walk in or were you listening the entire-

MICHAEL
Don't ever call Banger Outlets again.

MERYL
Wow, ok. I guess you were
(click)

He hangs up on her. 
She's frozen.
She drops phone.
Beat.
She pulls comforter off the bed and curls up in a corner, looking forlorn.


LONG DISSOLVE TO:



 MONTAGE FLASHBACK:

6 INT. DINING ROOM TABLE - MERYL'S HOUSE - NIGHT

  Meryl catches first glimpse of Christian when she pulls the lid off a Christian Dior box and tears through the paper. She pulls Christian out and hugs him to her chest.

DISSOLVE TO:
7 EXT. HIGHLAND PARK - DAY

 Meryl and Christian are clearly in love, walking hand in shoulder. Spring blossoms are blooming and Meryl and Christian are giggling and spinning around until they collapse in a pile on the blossom covered turf.

 DISSOLVE TO:
8 INT. PARTY AT A FRIEND'S HOUSE - NIGHT

 Christian is by himself on a table. (slow motion) Meryl is walking back with two glasses of wine, just in time to see a female hand grabbing Christian before she and Christian jet. Meryl yells NOOOO! Wine sloshes in the glasses as she tries to give chase, but there's too many people in the room impeding her efforts.

FADE TO:
9 INT.  MERYL'S DARK BEDROOM - NIGHT


The lights are out, Meryl is still crumpled up in a pile in the corner, with the comforter pulled over her head. Pizza boxes and empty beer bottles are scattered on the floor.

Shot of answering machine.


ANSWERING MACHINE
(Ginger's voice)
Pick up...Pick up...Baby doll, you home? Guess not. We haven't seen you in awhile. Listen, the girls and I going out for brunch tomorrow at the Cheese Steak Factory, then maybe we'll end up at Nordies. 10am. See you there gorgeous!
(beep)

DISSOLVE TO:

10 INT. CHEESE STEAK FACTORY -SUBURBAN PITTSBURGH MALL- DAY

Meryl walks hurriedly into the bar area wearing a tshirt, leather pants, sunglasses. Olivia, Joanie and Ginger are wearing dresses and are sitting at a high top table with mimosas or bellinis next to their fancy and beautiful purses. 
OLIVIA
I ordered you a beer and some brown liquor, because I know that's what you like first thing in the morning.



MERYL
Sorry I'm late. I don't know how you guys can deal with the daily commute to and from the suburbs.
It'd drive me absolutely batty.

JOANIE
Can we order finally? I'm starving.

Beat.

                                      MERYL
(piles keys, phone, lipstick onto table)
I'm sorry. After that long drive, I really need to use 
the restroom. 

JOANIE
(sighs and flips through the menu again)

GINGER
(sips drink)
Hey Meryl, you give beautiful baby Michael a call?

MERYL
(Points at Ginger, fake laughs, and walks away)
Ha haaaaaaa

GINGER
(to the other women)
I don't know what her problem is, that Michael we met was totally into her.

OLIVIA AND JOANIE
(shrug)

There is a lull in conversation, so the women look over at the bar. There are two women with short hair cuts and button down shirts tucked into their jeans. They have chain wallets.(They are the quintessential lesbian). They have two empty beers between them.

BARTENDER
(to the lesbian couple, while drying glasses)
Thanks for coming in today ladies, make sure you check the purse hooks before you leave. Wouldn't want you to forget anything.


LESBIAN 1
(looks at her partner and looks back at the bartender)
Do we? Do we look like we carry purses? 


BARTENDER
(shifty eyes)
I...I...don't know?

LESBIAN 2
We're lesbians. We don't carry purses. We carry wallets. 

BARTENDER 
(shrugs and continues drying)


Light bulbs go off. Olivia, Joanie, and Ginger's jaws drop. They look at each other and in unison, all pick up their drinks and sip. The lesbian couple leaves, just as Meryl rolls back up and takes a big sip of her beer, then takes her sunglasses off. It looks like she hasn't gotten much sleep for a very long time, but she seems very content to be drinking a beer. Then she realizes that all her friends are staring at her.  

MERYL
What?

JOANIE
You know you can tell us anything, right? 

MERYL
Yeeesssss.

OLIVIA
And that we love you no matter what, right?

MERYL
(sets beer down and wipes mouth)
How much have you guys had to drink?

GINGER
We just want you to know that it's okay. You can come out of 
the closet with us, if you want.

MERYL
(confused)
Closet? You think I'm gay?

OLIVIA
Well, you're an attractive fashionista without any kind of baggage.

JOANIE
And you like whiskey and beer and pants.

MERYL
(confused)
You think I'm gay because I don't have a purse? 

Meryl's friends all raise their eyebrows and sip their drinks at the same time. 

MERYL
Maybe I'm just not willing to settle! Maybe I want something that fits MY lifestyle and not the other way around?

 The women all raise their eyebrows skeptically and sip their drinks at the same time again.

MERYL
I'M NOT GAY!

JOANIE
We know, but if you were, it's totally okay.

The other women shake their heads in agreement. Meryl pulls some cash out of her pocket and throws it on the table. 

MERYL
(starts walking away)
Good to know. If this is some kind of well-intended, but misguided intervention, well, then, I'm going to Nordstrom. I'd rather take my chances on the meat market than sit here.

DISSOLVE TO:


11 INT. NORDSTROM- PURSE DEPT - DAY

Meryl circles around the purse department, feeling out of her league, not really seeing anything intriguing enough to pick up. A few sales people ask if she needs help, she doesn't, but with each new ask, it further ups the pressure and she gets visibly agitated. Olivia, Joanie, and Ginger arrive. They see her, but she doesn't see them because she is too focused on leaving. Meryl walks out into the mall and takes a deep breath. Across the way is a new store called Luxury Garage Sale. She likes the sound of it and heads to it.

CUT TO:

12 INT. LUXURY GARAGE SALE - PURSE DEPT.-DAY

Luxury Garage Sale is a designer consignment shop with new and incredible vintage finds. Meryl walks into the purse department. There are Chanel and YSL bags under glass and several shelves showing their incredible variety. She leans against counter and spots a rugged white leather bag on a shelf. 

He's cute.

Real cute.

He glows. 

He throws Meryl a half-smile then looks away. 

Meryl looks away.  

Should she?

She shakes her head to herself. No.

Beat.

She looks over at him again. 

Meryl's P.O.V. is of a white bunny sitting on the shelf. 

She smiles, shrugs, and crosses over to him.

When she gets to him, he has reverted back into a rugged and beautiful handbag.

MERYL
Hi.

HANDBAG
Hi.

MERYL
I'm Meryl.

HANDBAG
(says with a Brazilian accent)
Hi Meryl, I'm Carlos.

MERYL
Like the Jackal.

HANDBAG
(smiles)
Yes, like the infamous terrorist dog. 

MERYL
(smiles)
I like dogs.

HANDBAG
I thought real women prefer cats. 

MERYL
I see my reputation precedes me.

HANDBAG
Why? You are not a real woman?

MERYL
It's funny, I just learned that real women apparently don't wear pants and drink beer.

MATCH CUT TO:

Ginger points the conversation out to Olivia from across the mall. Olivia and Ginger's P.O.V. from across the mall and through the floor to ceiling glass windows of the store. They see Meryl and Carlos having an unforced, enjoyable conversation. 

GINGER
It's on...

OLIVIA
It's so on...

MATCH CUT TO:

BACK IN THE TRENCHES: 

HANDBAG
...So I thought, what the hell, and now I live in the USA. 

MERYL
Just like that?

HANDBAG
Well, it wasn't quite that simple, but yeah.

MERYL
How was it hard?

HANDBAG
Well, I left someone very special behind.

MERYL
Tell me about it...

HANDBAG
You too?

MERYL
Yeah.

HANDBAG
(lights up)
I thought I was going to die.

MERYL
It's been over six years and I'm still trying to get over it.

HANDBAG
Oh God, that's two more than me. Tell me it gets better. 

MERYL
(smiles)
It does.

HANDBAG
How?

MERYL
There are occasional advantages to being uncoupled.

HANDBAG
(coyly)
Like what?

MERYL
(playing along)
Well, you if you see something ruggedly, devastatingly handsome, you don't have to worry if anyone is watching you.

CUT TO:
Olivia and Ginger are watching from outside the window.

GINGER
It's on.

OLIVIA
It's definitely on.

BACK TO:
HANDBAG
You want to get out of here? Go someplace we can really talk?

MERYL
Let me blunt and ask you a few questions first.

HANDBAG
Oh, ok.

MERYL
Are you cross-body? And do you have any interior pockets? Or anything else I should know about?

HANDBAG
Yes. Yes. and I have a small amount of ink. 

MERYL
I kinda like ink...unless it's racist ink? 

HANDBAG
No...a pen leaked on me at some point. But I promise, it's minimal.

MERYL
 That happens to me all the time.I hate it when that happens. Oh, One more thing. It's kind of embarrassing.

HANDBAG
What?

MERYL
And I totally get it if it's too weird.


HANDBAG

(smiles in an interested way but shrugs)

Si, Eu posso descascar um abacaxi.

(english subtitle: Sure, I can peel a pineapple)



MERYL

what? anyway..Can I...Can I do a sniff test?



HANDBAG
(laughs and leans into her)
Si, if you don't mind if I do the same?

Meryl lifts him up. He smells of leather and faintly of some pleasant spice. He's gorgeous. Soft, supple, showing some age, but in a sexy world-wise way. A heroic vision from a post-apocalyptic movie. He's too good for this place. He belongs on the shoulder of a mythological huntress carved out of marble. She walks over to the register and settles up with the sales girl.



                                                     DISSOLVE TO:
13 INT - DARK RESTAURANT - DAY

The soundtrack kicks in, Frank Sinatra's song, "Someone to Watch Over Me" plays as we see Meryl and Carlos sitting across from each other deep in easy conversation. 
DISSOLVE TO:

14 INT - DARK RESTAURANT - DAY

Same restaurant table. Many glasses and empty plates are on the table, but the conversation keeps flowing. 
DISSOLVE TO:

15 INT - DARK MOVIE THEATRE - LATE AFTERNOON

We see the flashing screen of a movie bouncing light into the happy faces of Meryl and Carlos. A bucket of popcorn is on Meryl's lap.

DISSOLVE TO:
16 INT - DARK CAR - EVENING
Meryl is driving back to Pittsburgh, Carlos is in the passenger seat. They are smiling at one another. Clearly very happy.

The camera pulls back from the car window and follows the car as it heads downtown. The skyscrapers loom in the distance, happy and bright. 

FRANK
There's a somebody I'm longing to see
I hope that she turns out to be
someone who'll watch over me
I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood
I know I could always be good
To one who'll watch over me.


 We rise and pass the PPG Tower.

FRANK
Although I may not be the man some
Girls think of as handsome
To her heart I'll carry the key
Won't you tell her please to put on some speed
Follow my lead, oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me


We rise and pass the glowing Bayer sign. It's a full moon, High above the city...

FRANK
Won't you tell her please to put on some speed
Follow my lead, oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me.


We rise and rise into the moon until it's just a giant pool of beautiful golden light...


FADE TO BLACK.



THE END




photo: Joshua Franzos

leather and lace, rock chic, vegan leather jacket, Meryl Franzos
photo: Joshua Franzos
Many things in our lives have taken a back seat since we got our puppy, Meatball. (Holy shit progress on my writing.) We love him very dearly, and we knew it was going to be a lot of extra work, but having said that, we still weren't prepared for our high maintenance pup. A lot of sleep was lost. In the early months, it was not uncommon to get up 2-3 times a night (and walk down three flights of stairs to take him out). We're still currently committed for taking him out in the middle of the night a few times a week. I tell you all of this because it sort of fueled this outfit. I live in a very urban area where I can't exactly walk outside in my pjs to take the puppy out. I have to pull pants and shoes on. One day at dusk, I caught a glimpse of my bedraggled, nightgown-shoved-into-a-pair-of-jeans self, and thought...Hey, I can work with that. Mostly because I'm too tired and there aren't enough hours in the day to do otherwise. So sloppy chic it is.

photo: Joshua Franzos
I'm a two-dogged momma now. Meatball probably pees on me about once a week, therefore I'm phasing out dry clean only clothes. They don't work with my life since I'm constantly throwing things in the washer-this vegan leather jacket included, which, if you ask me, is the best thing a Vegan has ever done for me-made fake leather that feels and looks like leather, but is washable. Boom. 

photo: Joshua Franzos

I do like real leather accessories though. If you read the above parody screenplay, you might have gathered that I have purse issues. I do. I can't commit. Most purses are too something. Too cheap, too expensive. Too prissy, too proper, too big, too small...too common...too trendy, too dowdy, too too. I drive myself insane. I wish I could be that blogger that has a gorgeous matching purse for every outfit, but I never found a bag that emitted any kind of aspect of myself that I wanted to project -which is what, we as women do with handbags. Especially with our designer logo bags. We want to give the world an immediate impression of us via our bag. I kind of hate that. That sets me up for failure.  The number of purses I have, I can probably count on one hand. But guys, I found one. I fell in love with this simple, yet rugged little bag. I think it perfectly suits me. It's vintage Carlos Falchi. After I pulled the trigger and bought it, I learned that Falchi got his start in Greenwich village in the 70's. Jimi Hendrix was his neighbor. I learned that he sold mostly to rockstars and jazz musicians before a buyer at Henri Bendel launched his career. I'm down with rubbing elbows in that kind of company.

photo: Joshua Franzos

Also, I finally found a pair of skinny jeans that I adore. Mast by All Saints. I have an athletic body, that's slightly pear-shaped, with not much of an ass to speak of. If that's you, these jeans look and feel great. Mast has the the lowest rise, which I prefer, but All Saints has higher waisted versions of the same skinny jean for those of you with more in the trunk. I love the jeans so much, I got two more pairs and I've even put my favorite bootcuts that I've been wearing for the past 17 years on the shelf. I know jeans technically belong on the shelf, but if you're anything like me these days, the clothes you actually wear are pulled, unfolded from the laundry basket. 
C'est la vie.

What I Wore:
Vegan leather jacket: Free People, Here! 
Vintage satin nightgown: Hey Betty Vintage 
Skinny jeans: All Saints Mast jeans, Here! 
Amethyst cocktail ring: inherited from my late mother-in-law.
Bag: Vintage Carlos Falchi from Luxury Garage Sale
Boots: sold out Sam Edelman, but almost identical from Target Here!





Your Bosom Friend in Pittsburgh,





The Weight

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

i-phone photo: Joshua Franzos


"Take a load off fanny, take a load for free."

Even the music I was listening to was mocking me, cuz that's what I needed to do. Take a load right off the fanny. The Weight, as in my weight gain, was the result of a convergence of things. Giving up amphetamines. Getting a puppy that needed to get up 2-3 X a night and then skipping the gym in the morning because I was too exhausted. Also, not altering my food or alcohol intake to account for less drugs and activity. After a couple months of this, I gained some weight. TBH I didn't really notice it until my pants began to hurt me. But the real slap in the face was when a nurse weighed me and the scale was on an upwardly mobile path towards 10 stone. (I'll let you google that if you really want to know, but since the goal of this blog post is NOT to get hung up on numbers,  maybe you shouldn't and should just keep reading).

Except for doctor visits, I do not weigh myself because it makes me crazy. It is easy for me to obsess. I'm an artist so it's a little weird for me to obsess over a number when I really despise all numbers, but I do. But I find that body weight numbers often don't give us the whole story. It doesn't tell you your fat to muscle ratio for one. But I tell you all this, because I want to peel back the fashion blog facade a little and be more real around here. The more personal I get, the more you, dear reader, seem to relate or at least view me as the imperfect human that I very much am. As a writer, my goal is to create multi-dimensional characters on the page and I feel like I should do more of that around here. I find myself, a blog reader as well, growing weary of everything being happy and perfect and on trend all the goddam time. I prefer our relationship to be one of mutual respect for one another rather than one-sided admiration.There are real people behind fashion blogs. I'd like see more of them and be advertised to a little less. So I thought I'd apply my own desires for other people's blogs to my own blog. Y'know, to show that I'm more than just a pretty face with pretty clothes. I swear. I drink. I don't have magical metabolism.

I've been in good shape for the past ten years. The best in my life, thanks to probably three things. Amphetamines. A gluten free diet. Working out 4-5 times a week. But I wasn't always in great shape. I was in the worst shape and in the worst mental head space right after my father died (17) until I was about 26. Most females are or have been in that toxic headspace at some point in their lives. The whole bitch of the matter is you don't even have to be in bad shape to have a poor body image!

Back when I had some abs. photo credit: Joshua Franzos

I was even a professional model with agencies in Michigan and New York during that period. Still no. Thought I wasn't thin enough. Most of us aren't explicitly taught to inhabit as little space as possible, but as females we tend to suck that message right up, almost osmotically. Be thin. Weigh as little as possible. Value what our bodies look like over what they can do. Don't even get me started on undervaluing the feminine mind. Ugh.

But then something changed. Maybe it had something to do with the onset of my thirties. Or maybe because I made a lot of brazen personnel and vocational changes so that I'm actually happy in love, happy in what I'm doing, and therefore, happy in body and my own skin. I don't know. But I do know that I'm done with the poor body image chapter of my life. I closed the door on that sadistic squatter in my head a very long time ago. But I tell you, almost two months ago, I looked at Doctor's office scale and I could swear that I heard her scratching at the door.

It would be easy to obsess over a number. But let's. just. not. I'm simply not going to look in the mirror and beat myself up or call myself awful names anymore. What do we hope to accomplish with that? Do we hope to motivate ourselves by shaming ourselves into action? How often does that even work? You wouldn't tolerate anyone else speaking to you like that, so why do it to yourself?

Don't.

I decided that I couldn't afford to buy all new pants. I decided that I need to love, respect, and be patient with myself, but tired or not, I needed to move because moving my body and being active makes me feel like ME in the head. That's most important. I also like to surprise myself with my own strength and agility. But also, I really wanted my pants to stop being a pain in the ass and stomach and thighs. Life gets away from you sometimes. You're putting out one fire only to have two others spring up. It happens to the best of us, but your physical and mental health is so important and you don't even realize how good you have it until the moment you don't. Make it a priority and snap it back into focus.

So part of this blog is telling you about things or products that I've found or picked up that add style, joy, value, or ease to my life. I have to admit, given my recent state of affairs, I recently jumped at a perfectly timed ad in my instagram feed. It was for Kayla Itsines' BBG (Bikini Body Guide) via the Sweat App. I needed a kindly kick in the pants, so I did about five minutes of "research" before I just decided to commit to a one week free trial.  I found that I really liked the challenging excercises and the app function during my free trial. What I like the most about it is, I don't have to think or plan anything, just do. It's $20/month and it's a great value. It's less than one session with a personal trainer, but it's like having a personal trainer in your pocket every day. There's even some food plan stuff that I don't even utilize. (This is not sponsored by the way, I'm just loving on this app). 
BBG encourages photos to track your progress. (You don't have to share if you don't want)

I've been doing the workouts for 7 weeks now. I can't tell you that I lost weight. (as you know I don't weigh myself). Someone commented on my arms last week. And I am seeing some attractive definition in my muscles elswhere. I suspect I may have even gained some muscle weight. HOWEVER, the moral of the story is after 7 weeks my pants fit again. My pants fit again and I didn't have to emotionally abuse myself. I'm eager to see how I feel and look as I continue this BBG journey. If you're in the same boat as me, I just want to encourage you to try and set the scale aside and focus more on how your clothes fit. It's less crazy making.

Look. I know you want it to, but nothing truly great happens overnight. Results will come.You are a piece of art. A work in progress, honey. So be patient. Be kind to yourself. Do the work and trust the process. Overthink everything else in your life, but not exercise. Never overthink exercise. I know it sounds trite, to say so because it's a brand slogan, but I honestly can't say it any better or more simply than, just do it.  Just do it and love yourself and those around you.


Your Bosom Friend in Pittsburgh,


The Farewell Tour

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

 
vintage skirt, leopard shirt, Meryl Franzos
photo: Joshua Franzos

In my quest for personal style, true, selfish, unadulterated personal style, I've had to acknowledge and confront things about myself and my closet. I realized that there are pieces of clothing that I only hold onto out of some sort of sentimental duty. 

mixing prints, leopard print and sequins, Meryl Franzos
photo: Joshua Franzos

Meryl Franzos, mixing prints, leopard and sequins
photo: Joshua Franzos

I hate the word duty. It sounds like a dirty yoke when you're talking about your wardrobe. But screech the hangers back and there's the biggest skeleton in my closet. My mother's wedding dress. White, dotted swiss with bell sleeves. The kind that makes your heart ache for a California backyard wedding in the seventies, where your guests will later jump in the kidney-shaped pool. And for sunshine and a daisy flower crown. And for the breeze blowing through the window of your Mom's girlhood bedroom rustling the curling Snoopy posters on the wall.

God, if I know anything, I know what I am not. 

I am not a free loving bohemian. I am too...hardened and deliberate, to be that brand of carefree. I am most certainly not going to San Francisco with flowers in my hair, or ever wearing my mother's wedding dress. There are certain things I can't say. Make love. Certain things I can't wear. Boho. Bows. Babydolls. But it doesn't mean I don't feel it or appreciate differences. Never will you find a more conditionally unromantic, hopeless romantic.

"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." - Jane Austen, Emma


But I can't bring myself to drop my mother's wedding dress off at Goodwill. The thought of it makes me ill. The thought of a stranger wearing it makes me feel like a jealous lover, but on the same hand, there is no place for it in my life. I don't want to hold onto things that don't do. don't see. don't serve.

So where does that leave me and the dress? an impasse.


I thought about walking out into the Peconic bay with the gown in my arms and holding the ballooning white fabric under. The gentle fringe of the dots would waver and flutter like eyelashes when I plunge it down down down, into the dirty blue water. Then when the burbling stopped and everything fell silent and still, I'd let the tide carry it out to sea like an exhausted cotton Edna Pontellier. 

I thought about it. Plotted it. Decided on it. Then I remembered that I had a sister.

Mom's wedding dress, you want it?
I texted.

(Fortunately she does and there will be no wedding dresses harmed.) 


photo: Joshua Franzos
It doesn't exactly stop at the wedding dress though. There are the guilty hand-me downs (like this skirt pictured here). The stuff that doesn't fit. The stuff you paid a ton of money for, but never wore. Or wore once. And there's the clothing that you used to love, but have slowly grown away from like a first marriage, where you got married too young, but you keep trying to make it work for six years longer than you should. 

Meryl Franzos, leopard oxford shirt
photo: Joshua Franzos

photo: Joshua Franzos
buckle heels
photo: Joshua Franzos

Stuff works its way into us and our lives, almost to the point that we develop imaginary relationships with it. For awhile I got really attached to things, because my people kept dying. I even managed to find a job where I dealt with more things than people. It was easier, I thought, to distance myself. As if proximity, physically and emotionally would give me cover when another life detonates. Well it's not true. You're left with nothing, but the shrapnel of stuff and regret. So you hold onto the stuff and it adds up and then you end up feeling like the one that is drowning. Even when you're gasping, it's still hard to let go.

mixing prints, Meryl Franzos
photo: Joshua Franzos
Perhaps I'm afraid I'll lose my edge if I take away the things that make me crazy...crazy enough to contemplate an inanimate object's homocide. So here's me documenting the angst. I dropped this hand-me down skirt off at Goodwill last week (along with a bunch of other stuff). Here's me acknowledging the love had and the love lost. I used to love the challenge of mixing prints, now I'd rather eschew them. Here's me acknowledging the involuntary luxury I have of raging against an object instead of person that might've been hurt by my actions and words. I'm still angry that my parents are gone. Angry at them for my selfish benefit. For my sister's. For the benefit of any grandchildren I might've supplied them with. You should've been here. And I should've been there. Together we were neither here nor there.

It's been almost five years since I left a job as an appraiser in the auction world. The entire seven years I was there, I never broke a thing until about a month before I left.  A light bulb blew out and I dropped and broke a crystal vase in the dark basement of decommissioned church.When I bent over to clean up the largest chunk of glass, I sliced my finger open on a larger piece of lead crystal lurking in the shadows. Part of the glass snapped off within my index finger. I didn't go to the ER, but probably should've. I didn't have healthcare so I cleaned it up myself. It bled for days. Later I realized that I still had a small chunk of crystal healed up inside my flesh.
I once tried to cut it out, but it's in there too deep. It's there to stay and a scar alters the fingerprint I was born with.

photo: Joshua Franzos
 I will literally always carry my old work with me. Just as I will carry around the memories of my parents whether I have an item of theirs or not. I have more memories in the tip of my finger than...than...whatever. Let's not assign value at this point. Just this. I'm saying goodbye to the things that hold me back and Hello to the things that move me and my story forward. Edit your novel, edit your wardrobe, edit your life...I'm symbolically cutting plenty of things that I thought wouldn't bleed after so many years, and yet they are. It's okay though. It only means they're still in there, rattling around my skull, giving me that edge I feel I need in order to write. But hopefully without the physical reminders in my face everyday, I'll be able to come into my own and be whoever I'm supposed to be...so much so that maybe one day when I'm gone, someone will be beside themselves when it's time to let go of my wedding dress. 




"Isn't it pretty to think so." -Ernest Hemingway






Your Bosom Friend in Pittsburgh,







What I Wore:
Leopard oxford shirt: old J.Crew
Sequin tank: old
Buckle d'orsay heels: old, Colin Stuart
Skirt: my mother's vintage skirt
                                         Bracelet: Tiffany & Co., my mother-in-law's





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