Playing Dress Up As Olivia Pope

Kerry-Washington-Scandal-Prada-Twin-Pocket-Tote-590x366The only thing that has helped me get through this week is knowing Thursday night we all get reunited with the “Gladiators.” I’m going to dress in all cream, pour myself a glass of red wine, and watch Olivia Pope handle shit once again (realistically I’ll be in my shrunken PJ bottoms, mis-matching top, hair in an insane top bun sipping on white wine because I just cannot with red).

I mean, we all wish we could wake up in the morning and be faced with Olivia Pope’s closet. Her coat and bag game is on POINT. Alexander McQueen, Prada, Chanel, Burberry … literally drooling. And how she doesn’t spill said red wine all over those couture cream looks is beyond me.

For those of us who have threatened to skin Olivia Pope and wear her due to our lust for her wardrobe, I suppose our threats have been taken seriously … by the Limited. I was pretty sure the Limited didn’t exist anymore, but alas, I was sorely mistaken. The only Limited I knew was Limited Too, which was my jam in elementary school. Everything from neon tank tops with weird looking Limited Too monkeys on them hanging from trees to feather pens, Clueless style, I owned. I wanted to bathe in Limited Too. But the Limited? That shit made me yawn.

I suppose the Limited has taken a Target-esque approach, much like other retailers have like Kohls and JCPenny’s, to make themselves look “trendy” and “cool.” I’m not like other retailers, I’m a HIP retailer, I’m a COOL retailer (if you get that reference we are officially best friends). But when I think of the Limited, I think of boring black pant suits with thousands of different patterned shirts to wear underneath, and matching jewelry sets. It’s the color by numbers of fashion. Literally, when I would walk past the Limited, I would yawn. The Limited was also apart of the reason I vowed after graduating college that I would never wear a suit (5 years later and still going strong).

As much as I appreciate their attempts at giving us Pope style without the Pope price tag, I gotta say it is way too much like playing dress up for me. When we were little, we all wanted to be Cinderella, right? And the Disney Store made it possible by selling Cinderella costumes and fake glass slippers. I don’t have any interest, as a grown woman, in going to the Limited and buying an “Olivia Pope costume” for $228.

Olivia Pope, the character, is a bad ass working woman. She literally makes the fake president, who is a straight up slore, come across like a smart, intelligent family man. She “handles” pretty much every large and in charge case in Washington, D.C. Hence why she makes large and in charge money to purchase such lust-worthy items like Burberry coats and Prada handbags.

:::Sigh::: I’ll be continuing on saving my pennies and dimes until the day I can proudly march into Burberry and purchase an amazing coat. Until then, I’ll be sitting on my couch, looking a hot mess on Thursday evenings, lusting after Olivia Pope’s wardrobe. But you won’t find me running to the Limited any time soon.

P.S. where does one find a Limited? Do malls even still exist?!

I Call This … Pope-ing

Screen-shot-2013-10-24-at-10.24.45-AMPreface: If you don’t watch Scandal, you probably won’t get this. And if you don’t watch Scandal, I DEMAND you go to Netflix and watch it right now. See you in three days. That should be a sufficient amount of time to let you binge.

Have you ever had a really bad day, like epically bad so much that you just want to dive into your most beloved, ragged pair of jammies, pour yourself a glass of wine (by glass of wine I mean bottle), and cry a little (and by cry a little I mean a lot) on your couch with your cat? We’ve ALL been there, give or take. And until recently, the thought of that was a little sad, right? Drinking wine. Alone. With your cat. Replaying the heinous day in your head over-and-over again. When I pull myself out of said emotional hole I usually cringe thinking about partaking in such behavior … but, you know, sometimes it’s necessary.

Thanks to Olivia Pope, better known as Kerry Washington on the street, though, that idea no longer sounds pathetic, weak, or silly. Because NOTHING Olivia Pope does is silly or pathetic, am I right?

My friends, I call this Pope-ing. Much like coping … except Pope-ing … get it? Ehh?! It is like the chicer version of what I just described above. How do you Pope, you ask?

1. Go home and get into your all white or cream cashmere jammies

2. Make sure your hair is perfectly quaffed

3. Go to your kitchen and poor yourself a rather large glass of red

4. Turn on MSNBC, CNN, Fox News … whatever you fancy

5. Curl up on your white couch with said glass of red and your cellular device

6. Chug said glass of red

7. Wait for insanely handsome suitor to knock on your door

8. Converse with suitor while sitting in front of your coffee table with your legs crossed, drinking, and starring into space

9. Kick him out

10. Pour more wine

For a while I never realized how she wore all white, and how her apartment was all white, drank copious amounts of red wine, and never got a drop of it anywhere. Me, well, I would be a hot mess. But last week, after having a truly heinous day, I sat down on my couch in something besides my hole-ridden, bleached stained jammies, enjoyed a glass of wine, and felt like Olivia Pope, obviously the abridged version of the above steps. And it made me feel slightly better.

Olivia Pope is a bad ass woman. She don’t take no shit from no one. Clearly you don’t have to follow the above steps verbatim, BUT if you embody what Olivia Pope is all about while sipping your vino on your couch, pondering what went wrong … you may just turn into the gladiator that you need to be.

Below is me Pope-ing. Sorry, I’m really just not a red wine drinker … yet.



Behold: Coat Porn

I’m a woman obsessed with coats. I think I’ve secretly always adored them. It all started when I was in college watching Devil Wears Prada, or “D Wears P,” as I like to call it. Anne Hathaway’s character goes glam and struts the streets of New York with “Vogue” playing in the background (I mean don’t we all walk around singing “Vogue” to ourselves secretly? No? Just me? Coool … :::shifty eyes:::) Anyways, she rocks several fantastic looks with equally fantastic coats to match. At that point in time I was still in the elementary mindset that you only buy one coat per season and that is that. I say that because I used to battle with my mother every fall when it was time to buy a coat. I loathed everything. So deciding on one was enough for me. But years later as a college student, little did I know such a thing as a coat collection could exist!

And now … as a grown ass woman (it’s cool, I still feel like I’m 15, too don’t worry), I’ve been seduced even further by coats. Who was the saucy minx who wooed me, sang sweet fabric nothings into my ear until my heart fluttered, you ask? Who was the vixen who made me salivate for elegant warmth? Olivia. Mother effing. Pope.

She lets Fitz seduce her, I let her seduce me with her breathtakingly structured designer coats every episode of Scandal. Seriously ABC, I hope you are cool with airing coat porn on your channel, because that is what every episode of Scandal is. Every time Olivia storms into the White House or sneaks off to some secretive meeting while one of her clients sleeps soundly on her couch, I get hot for her coat. I’m not even afraid to admit it.

I was even once loathed white coats before Scandal. Number one I am a stain magnet, number two I take public transportation and God only know what kind of anonymous strangeness could end up on them and number three I just don’t think they are a good long-term investment. Because when I buy a nice coat, much like every coat Olivia wears, I buy it like I would a car. How many years will I have it? How many miles will I walk in it? Will it go with everything I wear? But now … all I’m sayin’ is … mama needs a white coat.

And since the air is starting to have an actual chill in it … I have this strong desire to acquire several amazing coats in different neutrals and tweeds strictly due to Olivia Pope on Scandal. My bank account doesn’t thank you.

So enjoy below as I would like to pay homage to all of the coats I lust after every week due to my Scandal addiction in hopes I can find them in a “look for less” capacity, because I think I can speak for a vast amount of Scandal addicts when I proudly say I can’t swing Tory Burch trenches and Burberry capped coats at this very given moment. Hence why this is coat porn.

Disclaimer: I would avoid viewing this if you are at work, as you may start drooling and or moaning at your desk. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Be still my heart.


Oh dear God … the gloves. You. Are. Killing. Me. With. Those. Gloves.


Mmmmm … strut your stuff, coat …


Oh yeah … button it up … just a little more …

Okay maybe don’t make that face …


That’s it … that’s what mama likes …

My God in heaven. You always know how to hit the spot, Burberry.