jules nolan « ann rosenquist fee

A guest post from my stylish friend Dr. Julene D. Nolan. Is she a doctor of pearlology? POSSIBLY.

Mike, neckwear, Julene.

My family was not a pearls family. Our coming of age was celebrated with one of two gifts – luggage or wristwatch. We were raised to be worker bees, all nine of us. My parents knew that we would need to monitor time closely or be able to move out or move on quickly and in a way that would be taken seriously. The older kids graduated in the mid to late sixties and uniformly received luggage for the boys and watches for the girls. But then the seventies and eighties came and things got fuzzier and looser and I began to hope for luggage. Certainly they would know me well enough to realize that a wristwatch was wrong for me. Of course they would recognize my wanderlust through all of my achingly crappy poetry about a young woman in a faraway place.

The day of my older sister’s graduation came and she got it! SHE GOT LUGGAGE! Then my older brother – a watch. Times had changed. People were more than a gender stereotype and watches and luggage had come to mean different things than they used to mean. I was certain a Samsonite was in my future. On the day of graduation my mom handed me a box. The small hard plastic case betrayed the serious miscalculation on the part of my parents. The petite Timex bracelet style watch was shiny and lovely and completely not at all what I wanted. But as the last of nine children to graduate, my folks were goddamned tired already.

My pearls came from my hubby on one of his exotic trips to Shanghai. He was brought up in a pearls family and his sisters received the tapered strands of perfectly polished oyster secrets as a 16th birthday present. They wore them stunningly in their graduation pictures, which portrayed young, ambitious women with a sense of style, and femininity; women who knew how to choose stemware and color and good linens. So when hubby told me that he had bought me pearls I was a bit worried. I don’t have the breeding for pearls. I don’t have the body type for pearls. But then he gave me this.

They are colored pearls, all heavy and serious but playful and odd shaped. Like me. He knows me better than my parents ever did.

And now that the half century club has welcomed me with open arms and achy joints I have to pay more attention to things like health and movement. That creates an entirely new fashion conundrum that Ann needs to solve. How do I pair these pearls them with this……

Geez. My best guess for Jules is to choke the fit-bit with a many-times-wrapped strand. Which, actually, could add extra weight in a fitnessy way. Tiny pearly kettle bells!

Tomorrow from the street team: A fire, a longtime love, a good denim jacket.

Jules Nolan sings a mean “Jolene” and other tunes when she guests with The Frye. She’s also a prolific travel writer who’s been a lot of places and knows when to dress up, or down, or barely. She’s also a publishing school psychologist who accessorizes with phrases like “aggressive playground behavior” and “dire poverty” and “I find this reality especially concerning.”

So I shouldn’t really write about her so much as I should step aside and let her tell you what in eff she’s doing curling her eyelashes in the car. Jules, honey. Please explain.

So I am up at 5:30. Some days I sleep until 5:36 but that means shower cap to protect the ‘do and touchup with curling iron only. I try to keep the lights out, cuz at 5:30 it’s dark and lighting up the house would mean that I’m really up and doing this. I shower and brush and moisturize and make it to the kitchen, one eye open. Then it’s coffee in the travel mug, bottle full of water and a tin of almonds in the bag for breakfast on the road. Dress in the laundry room and do my hair in the downstairs bathroom. Out of the door by 6:15 and drive bare-faced through the dark accompanied by NPR and coffee and almonds. At Le Sueur I turn the radio to Cities 97 cuz I’ve had enough of violence in Syria and fiscal catastrophes and inert politicians. Sometimes the sky is orange or pink then and the music is good. That is when I wake up for certain.

Oh, good. Fellow commuters, are you hearing this? You’re safe by Le Sueur.

When I get to Belle Plaine I park on the street and face the high school, open the pink plaid kit and set to work. No MAC or Estee Lauder in this kit. Cover Girl and Revlon go with the austere surroundings.

Makeup takes ten minutes tops. Then to the school and to my office and to my students, some of who think that at 80 lbs. they are a fat mess and that the voices in their heads, that tell them they are stupid and worthless, can’t be sent packing.

Why do people tell young women that their emotions are “too big for their bodies” and that is why they are struggling? They would never say that to a boy. It makes girls feel more out of control and gives them anxiety about “going crazy” any time they feel something.

How do people complain that adolescents are rude and lazy when these kids grew up with Enron and doping and sex abuse in the GODDAMNED CHURCH? Who are they supposed to trust?

I might be angry this morning.

: )

On second thought, Jules, no makeover necessary. You can do your eyelashes on the fly and whatever else you need. Cuz these are uneasy things to wear to work, and you’re wearing them well.

Next makeover: Carrie Moore is new in town, you guys, and we have to let her know Oxford and Baraboo have nothing on Mankato.