Sass, snark, smart-assedness (yes, that’s a word I made up, thank-you-very-much), those are just a few words that describe Anne Taintor. If her name doesn’t sound too familiar to you, don’t worry. You’ve probably seen her vintage-style art out and about. A wall in my apartment is sporting an Anne Taintor calender, currently turned to a quote “following the ‘if you can’t say something nice’ rule proved to be more challenging than she anticipated.” I sometimes take my morning coffee in a “Martinis: they’re not just for breakfast” mug, which occasionally makes its way to class, and is slightly embarrassing. You may also know her from this news story that happened a while back, where a woman sued when her yearbook photo appeared on a flask decades later. I found the whole thing funny, but I’m guessing we do not share a similar sense of humor.
There’s just something about her art that just tickles me- I think it’s the combination of oh-so-proper vintage prints and the unrestrained sarcasm. I would like to think that the majority of the people pictured in her prints would relate to their newly appointed captions, even if they weren’t quite allowed to say them at the time. Her artwork covers a variety of relatable topics, such as
My justification is not if, it’s when. Life is short, buy the shoes, and all that jazz. Remember those studded stilettos I bought a while back? Wrote about it here. Those are my ass-kicking shoes, and I think it’s important that every woman have a pair. They’ve recently come back into stock in a nude/white patent and I’m horribly tempted to buy them.
Isn’t that always the case? Quite unfortunate, really. This image makes me laugh- ladies, I’m sure that most of you out in the dating world have been here at some point or another. I pride myself in being fundamentally optimistic, even when it defies logic. But, if I have to go on one more mediocre date this next month, I’m just going to get a dog. On the bright side, it’s done wonders for my conversational skills, and I’ve eaten some pretty incredible meals.
This has become my mental M.O as of lately. Being responsible and all, I’ve found myself with a latte in hand, more often than not. That counts, right?
With all the classes I’ve been teaching, I’ve been admittedly putting off the yoga classes I’ve mentally scheduled for re-runs of “The Royals.” It’s basically a ridiculous, thinly veiled British soap opera, but I love it. Stick a pint of ice cream in my hands and I’m a 20-something manifestation of Bridget Jones. “I choose vodka…and Chaka Khan.”