Lynn Raye Harris

We’re at T minus 15 for my conference departure, so the shopping/packing/planning begins in earnest starting NOW. In good news, I realized yesterday that my original GH/RITA dress does indeed FIT! Woo hoo! See, I’d thought that even though I lost the pounds necessary, there was a cup issue in the bust. Noooo, there was a correct brassiere issue. Got the right one, all is good, I shall be wafting around in a teal dress with, I hope, silver sparkly shoes (they are on order, see pic — if they don’t work, I’ll be shopping for something different).

Though it will no doubt horrify some people I know (PC), I’ve just today printed out all the confirmations of events I’m supposed to be at so I can put them in my planner. (Other people did this at least two months ago. Alas, that’s not me.)

I also need to confirm my luggage restrictions. I’m on American, the cheap b*stards, but I bought my ticket before they starting charging for the first bag. Somehow, I have to get at least 6 pairs of shoes, plus a week’s worth of clothes, into one suitcase. Really, romance writers heading to a conference should be given special baggage considerations.

If you’re going to conference, have you planned every minute out yet? Or do you intend to wing it? Are you finished shopping? Have all your outfits planned? (Not me, but close.) If you aren’t going to San Francisco this year, what sort of non-conference plans do you have? Will you be following the conference blogs, or doing one of the online mini-conferences?

What is it? It’s that feeling you get when you go shopping and you suddenly feel, somewhere during the process, like you want to run home, close all the curtains, and cower in the dark. I don’t know why this happens to me, but it does. I think I get wigged out by all the choice, and the necessity to make a decision. That and not having a perfectly rail thin size zero body. *sigh*

Not that I’d want to be a zero for real, but the way those clothes drape on the kind of women who have nothing to poke out or bulge anywhere — it just makes me wish I could wear anything I want. Oh, I’m plenty happy when I discover something that looks great on me. But the crap I have to slog through first. Oy.

These days, I know the kinds of things to go for in a way I didn’t when I was twenty-something. Must have fitted busts and waists — long flowing things only make me look fat or pregnant. Ruffles are never, ever a good idea for a D cup.

And, holy hell, WHO invented the bubble dress and WHY? I saw bubble dress after bubble dress on my shopping trip yesterday. Nothing but a sheath with a huge bell at the bottom and then it fits against your thighs. Why oh why?

If I wore one of those things, you could get me size 50 shoes and send me to the circus. Not pretty, not at all.

Yes, I shopped yesterday. I tried stuff on, which I hate to do, and I discarded far more than I bought. One pair of pants, one markdown microfiber skirt, and one shirt. This is not a portentous start to my conference shopping….

Do you get shopping anxiety? Do you like to shop? Hate it? Find it easier with friends than alone? If you’re going to San Francisco, have you finished the conference wardrobe shopping? What’s your favorite bargain find?

I went shoe shopping the other day. I brought home two pairs of high heels. Hubby says, “You didn’t used to like shoes so much. What happened?”

I know I tilted my head like a puppy hearing a funny noise. And then I reminded him about my close first-name relationship with the Italian shoe guy in Germany — the man would set shoes aside in my size, and then whisk them out for me whenever I came in. I bought several nice pairs of Italian leather shoes. *sigh*

But when we moved to Hawaii, I gave up shoes. I wore flip-flops, or slippahs as they’re called there, for three years. I am now back to living where I need shoes. Hence my shoe-shopping the other day. And RWA National is coming up; definitely need shoes.

Seems as if I’ve landed in the right local chapter too. There is a cult of the shoe in Heart of Dixie. I love it.

The shoe I want is here. I believe it’s safe to say I won’t be owning this shoe anytime soon. In fact, when I told hubby about it, he gave me the puppy head tilt. And then he said I was crazy, off my rocker, nutso.

Yes, I crave a pair of Christian Louboutins that cost $900. Hubby doesn’t think I need them. The good news (I hope they fit right…) is that I’ve scoured the web and found a pair that look just like that — for under $60. They aren’t Louboutins. But if you see me wearing them in San Francisco, let’s just pretend like they are.

Any shoe fetishes to report? Designer clothing? Other expensive things that seem a bit frivolous? (Yes, I can’t imagine WHY that shoe costs 900 bucks, but it’s a lovely thing. Nude heels are all the rage, you know.)