Last night, Hook took me on an impromptu date to see "Tiny Furniture." OK: I knew [almost] nothing about the movie before I got to the theater, but am I glad I went? So very glad. Lena Dunham's conceptualization of post-graduate life is schlumpy, monochromatic, and startlingly accurate. Her dialogue is sharp without seeming like a total artifice; her hair is pleasantly unruly. I was impressed by the casting decisions made here and even more impressed by the characters' shoes. Related to shoes (and mostly unrelated to other aspects of the movie), I loved Aura's wardrobe and wanted to reappropriate it all for myself. That blue v-neck dress with the white rick-rack along the hems? Mine. Those oversized, hammered-silver hoops? Mine. And that white blouse with the multicolored trimmings along the edge of the collar -- oh, yes! "Tiny Furniture" made me want to be a better man. Scratch that: it made me want to wear nothing but 3.1 Phillip Lim.
I'm pretty sure it's a "girl thing," but sometimes, I have the feeling that I want to jettison my entire wardrobe and start fresh. Hook doesn't know what I'm talking about. "But I like your wardrobe," he says. "You always dress well." Hook is a good boyfriend, and I am glad he feels this way about my sartorial choices, even when I do not! Lately, though, the urge to discard and reamass has been strong. Like, planetary gravitational pull strong. I don't even know what that means, but it sounds about right.
Late-week good news: I got a promotion! I'm starting in my new position on Tuesday and am the most excited! I just hope my new desk has an accessible outlet and room for my coffeemaker.
