"Can I call you Stef?"

No. No you can’t, with few exceptions which I will comment on shortly.

Stef is informal. It implies a certain level of familiarity. In the professional world, you may not call me Stef. I will correct you. And if you do it again, I will deliver a succinct, yet terse, reminder. It doesn’t matter that I’ve worked for the same company for 20+ years. It doesn’t matter how many projects we’ve been on together. It doesn’t matter if you’re my favorite barista at Starbucks. If our relationship is strictly professional, meaning we’ve never traded hat sizes over a martini, you’re not “Stef” worthy. Sorry. Don’t take it personal. I simply prefer Stefanie.

Exceptions to the Stef rule.

1. You are a blood relative. Blood. Not marriage. An in-law can acquire Stef privileges but only if you can prove you know the correct spelling of my name. Hint. There is no “ph”.
2. You are my legalized spouse.
3. I’ve known you for a ridiculous number of years, which means we’re besties or pretty good friends. (Kel, Carlson, Carol, Janet, Tam, Jacquie, Cindy, Lisa, Graz, Scott, Kev). It probably also means we have traded hat sizes, sipped a few drinks (maybe a few too many), shopped, cried, laughed until we almost peed our pants (maybe we did, I won’t say), gave honest feedback about each other’s bad fashion choices, shopped for shoes, swimsuits, lingerie, watched movies, cooked, baked, helped each other out of tough spot and know each other’s secrets.

You get the idea. If you don’t fall into one of the three categories, “Stef” is like nails on a chalkboard. I start to twitch and the hair on the back of my neck stands at attention. If you do you fall in the aforementioned categories and you call me Stef, I don’t even notice. It’s all good.

Stuff I like – Reinvented vinyl

If you are as old as me, ahem, then you remember records.

You know, albums.

Vinyl.

Those big monstrous looking black discs that played music on your parent’s stereo console with a diamond tipped record needle while you are your besties learned to disco dance in the rec room. The rec room that probably had shag carpet and wood paneling.

It’s all coming back now isn’t it?

I wish I could say that I still owned my albums. Thriller, Styx, Madonna, Saturday Night Fever, Journey, Fleetwood Mac and so on. But I am a purger by nature and my albums were long since purged at garage sales,  where they were probably acquired by someone like this artist  who does nifty things with old records. Upcycling I think they call it now…although it’s cooler than that. Trust me.

Reinvented Vinyl is my new favorite etsy shop. Hand to god. This artist takes old albums and magically reinvents them (hence the shop name) into fabulous purses. I know! So cool. You can also send her your favorite album and she will turn it into an fabulous purse.

So I did what any good girl would do. I bought four.  Three for Christmas gifts and one for me (because I deserve a present for doing all the Christmas shopping. You can read about my thoughts on Christmas here).

You might think the best part about shopping for these four purses was sending a check to the artist and receiving a big box of purses several weeks later on my front porch. Close.

But the real fun was the tripping down memory lane part of the purchase. The part where I covertly grilled my besties about their favorite record albums in hopes it could be created into some awesome piece of fashion nostalgia that doesn’t have “Made in China” stamped on the bottom. The part where I am renounced best gift giver ever come Christmas.

Win-win for everyone!

Buy unique. Buy handmade.

My Most Favorite Day of the Year!

For the last 9 years my BFF and I plan a Christmas shopping trip to Mayfair Mall in Milwaukee. We generally go around the first week of December – always mid-week.

The intent is to shop for others, but in honesty, we do a lot of shopping for us. Two full-time working moms responsible for the near flawless execution of Christmas wizardry clearly deserve a little retail compensation. It’s a big fat juicy rationalization at its finest and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In all of our years planning the Mayfair Holiday Shopping Extravaganza we’ve only been foiled once by bad weather. Otherwise, our drill is the same. By way of Starbucks I head to my friends house where we compare coupons for various stores, pile in the car and arrive promptly at Mayfair by 8:30am. Macys typically has a sale every other day so the odds are pretty good they are already open which means lolling about and acquiring several pairs of shoes in an hour’s time while waiting for the rest of the mall to open. This is not uncommon. My BFF understands and appreciates the value (and need) to own multiple pairs of black shiny shoes (or boots). It is strongly encouraged. It is not atypical to make multiple shoe purchases with said BFF, which of course receive affirmation of the buyer’s good style and taste. A successful first hour in the shoe department will result in one trip back to the car to unload packages.

And then it’s time to hit the mall, making various stops, lulled by sparkly holiday attire in store windows and the aroma of delicious treats from William Sonoma.

And just like that (insert finger snap here)…its 2:00. Not kidding. It’s the world’s fastest day…which means it’s time for lunch and cocktails. Is there anything better than lettuce wraps and Mai Tais from PF Changs while the rest of the world is having a workday? I think not.

Now I will admit that one Mai Tai slips down the gullet pretty quickly. Ordering a 2nd has been done on more than one occasion. There a few risks associated with the Mai Tai lunch; first there is that there are two, happily buzzed females roaming the mall wielding Visa cards. The other risk is that eventually the Mai Tai the buzz wears off, but one chemical can be replaced with another. Hurray for the White Mocha Peppermint Latte, a 500 calorie orgasm in a cup. Brilliant! The benefit of said lunch is that everything looks better through Mai Tai colored glasses (it’s the dark rum float) including me half naked in a three way mirror, which is why the lingerie shopping is after lunch. Many a sexy bra has been acquired at Soma while delicately buzzed on fruity rum drinks. It really should be a law to serve cocktails to women while shopping for intimates, jeans or bathing suits.

More roaming of the mall ensues including a trip to Crate and Barrel. And then just like that (insert finger snap here) the world’s best grown up girl day is over and it’s time to head back home…two ladies all the happier with several new pairs of shiny shiny shoes.