Blu Period

A few weeks ago, we got a curious shipment of colorful swatches of fabric dotted with flowers and sequins. Color, flowers, sequins . . . I was intriged. However, the headbands just didn't seem to fit in with my style so I resisted the urge to try one on and about.

Finally, about a week ago, after days of thinking about the headbands of happiness, as I so dubbed them, I broke down and got one. A pretty thing with a mustard, matte sequined (taking a stab at it) flower.

It was cute. It made me think of spring. And days by the lake. And Easter. And mint juleps. And, consequently, new spring/summer sandals. Oh, what power you hold over me headband of happiness. I am now beginning to see the dark forces lurking behind such cheeful threads. I like it.

I didn't wear it right away though. No matter how much it made me smile to see it sitting on my dresser on top of a throne of hog-pogged jewelry, I didn't know what to do with it. That is an odd sensation for me. I always know what to do with something. Always. I don't invest in it if I don't. Especially not $30 for a headband that wasn't from J. Crew.

Damn you headband of happiness.

When the weekend finally rolled around, whether I was ready or not, the headband of happiness was going to make its debut to the world. In a spur of the moment decision early Friday morning before work, I grabbed a simple white Ya top with drapping on one of the arm holes, as it had become one of my favorite standbys, some jeans and my headband of happiness. The show must go on afterall.

Little did I know there was more evilness lurking behind my headband of happiness. It was too large for my head. Not so large that it fell around my neck like a distorted choker, but large enough that it would slide onto my eyes and mess up my mascara. That's not cool.

I thought all was doomed! Doomed, I tell you. But, I have the tendency to treat life like a Broadway stage and come hell or high water, the scheduled performance will go on. With a few slips and clips of strategically placed bobby pins, my headband of happiness was locked in place and ready for the weekend!

From the moment my headband of happiness crowned my head I got many a compliment. It was from those compliments that I realized that it was a Blu Gertrude headband. I wasn't observant to the fact that the label was stitched right beside my flower before. A friend had bought her daugther one at another store, not realizing we now stocked them at River Bridge. She knows now, though!

There were two compliments that stuck out though. One was from a girl I met that night. She seemed sweet enough, but she kept staring at me. Naturally, a degree of paranoia began to seep in and I began to wonder if something was on my face when she laughed and said, "can I touch your headband?"

.......... Sure. Why not?

As you could probably guess, her finger went straight for the mustard, matte sequined flower sitting just off my forehead. She poked and prodded for a second or two before saying how much she liked it. I like it too, thank you. And thank God for the bobby pins, otherwise my flower would have fallen to my nose.

The second was from a musician frined. He was playing some song, I don't remember what, and he has the tendency to change words out on a whim and through the various voices dancing around me I heard: "Those hippies from Kosciusko..."

Was that directed at me? I think it was.

A moment later when they got into the bridge of the song he announced. "That was for you!"

Ah, so it was. The way I see it, it's okay to be jealous of my awesomely delicious hippie headband. I happen to be fond of hippies.

Later some friends came in and one, who always wears the cutest things, even I'm jealous of them, doubted she could pull it off. Pfft. Anyone can pull it off. It's just a matter of confidene you carry with it. That's what makes Blu Gertrude so unique is the fact that each is a one of a kind creation that doesn't exactly match your own style, but meshes effortlessly.