C-bi time

Every season, I want to hate the stuff. It's so much work to have a party. You've got to nag, nag, nag, nag, nag all of your friends. People start to hate you. You turn into one of those emailers where everyone just hits "delete" when they see your name or, even worse, you've already been long ago sucked in to the "Junk" box with those "please forward this to ten friends or you will die a long, horrible death" or too many cutesy animal photo senders. It's bad. I guess I could just pay full price, but after so many teen-age years walking the carpets selling stuff in department stores, I just can't do it. So every season I check out the catalog and think "eh" whatever, I can live without those things. Then C-bi Queen Ronnie invites me to a hoity toity fashion show - wine, music, all kinds of different outfits on real people all done up and glam and suddenly I'm all excited about supplementing my designer wardrobe from Marshall's with a couple of totally original pieces.

Like this, the Dotty Cardi. Love it.

Most people think -Abi is some kind of cult. Some kind of weird shopping experience. Who wants to try on clothes after a long day at work? At someone else's house? Yuk. Not me. Then you get there in front of your peeps and suddenly there's something shoved in your hand that you would never wear in a million years (like this CA-i explosion from a few seasons ago) and somehow you love it.

Out of the box. But what do I know? Nothing (except someone told me today that I'm an inspiration to her. Ha! A fashion inspiration! Maybe now you blah wardrobe wearers know why I invited you after all). It's all due to the wined-up, wound-up roomful of lovelies flashing pink lacies and got-to-go green cottons nodding their heads about how adorable you look (but pay attention to the one in the back, too, shaking her head no, no, no).

You can't get that at Marshall's.

Check it out!