The month of August starts the countdown for the dreaded first day of school around the country. Everyone likes to squeeze in their last minute beach escapades and soak up the most of the summer that they had dwindled away while being a coach potato zombified by netflix The Office re-runs and countless National Geographic documentaries. I hope that wasn't just me. Oh well, at least I have the inside scoop on the killer sharks that loom the bottom of Papa New Guinea or with even more kills than the tremble inducing Great White Shark the world's most dangerous gang MS 13 Mara Salvatrucha. Who said television turns your brain to mush?
Once I could see the dawn of school on the horizon I knew I had to do something about my humdrum summer. I couldn't come back from a stunning summer in gorgeous Southern California and ashamedly utter that I all I had done was work and summer school then more work and summer school and then finally to top off all the excitement some more work and summer school. I start yawning just thinking about it. So I cleared out my schedule and quit two of my jobs, finished my summer school classes, and headed to the great outdoors (since really everything else is out of my tight budget). I became a backpack-aholic for the month of August. I managed to venture out on to three trips in one month. With only one outfit for four days let's just say I wasn't so Closet-Minded.
While growing up my brother dreaded school so much so that my mom denied the word school from my vocabulary the entire summer. He couldn't even bear to hear the words let alone know which day it started. Up until the very day school began he would be in complete denial of its existence.
I on the other hand, prepared for my new beginning weeks in advance. My preparation primarily consisted of revamping my wardrobe. Each year my mom would give me an allowance of money to blow and I would come home from a tiresome day of throwing clothes on, ripping them off, and then leaving a heaping mess in the tight quartered dressing room that my mom would force me to hang up. I could never get my mind wrapped around how retail workers manage to make the clothes look so pristine hung or folded. Every time I give my best stab at it the end product looks like I struggled to make some modern piece of art that you are unable to detect its meaning and so you just give a head nod with a Jimmy Hill chin stroke.
Then I would come home and do a fashion show putting on every single article of clothing expecting a large round of applause, high-pitched scream, or some form of excitement for each purchase. After my family was thoroughly worn out from being Paula Abdul, I would hit up my next audience, my grandma, and the majority of the time her next door neighbor would be called over as well. Then came the elimination round. I would weigh the positives and negatives of each outfit, like it was some life-changing decision, in order to come up with the best first day of school ensemble. Not only would I decide what to wear for the first day, but each consecutive day following, in order of cuteness, until all my purchases had be worn. Typically I would ask my mother for her opinion and take it in to consideration and end up disregarding it and wearing exactly what I wanted anyways.
The same habitual procedure has held true even years later now that I am a junior in college. Except now the once under appreciated allowance comes from my pocket, which seems to be forming holes because I just can't figure out where all my money seems to be ending up. Tomorrow is the first day of school. The closet is loaded and ready. My decision determined.
If loving fashion is a crime, I plead guilty. Welcome to my closet.
If loving fashion is a crime, I plead guilty. Welcome to my closet.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Alexander Wang
My good friend, Yutis (like shoot-tease) is a firm believer in not just following your dreams, but attacking them like a rabid beast. From the moment she saw Kristin Cavalari and Lauren Conrad frolicking about on Laguna Beach she was smitten with Southern California. Three years ago she finally made it to her happiest place on earth where she now studies and plays tennis. So, when I told her how I would love to be the buyer of a large clothing company, but did not think it was possible because I didn't have the schooling; she took things into her own hands. When it comes to social networking Yutis is like Ryan Seacrest; she seriously knows everyone. So she landed me an internship at a massive online clothing company, Revolve Clothing, with quite effortless ease. No interview, no background check, no pre-requisites, no nuthin'. All I did was show up. The key to successful employment used to be it's all about what you know. Then it was; it's not what you know, but who you know. Now I think it's not who you know, but who knows you.
At my internship, I get a deadly wholesale discount, which is typically fifty percent off. Every time I enter the huge warehouse I wish they outlawed transparent coverings and put black bags over the countless rows of breathtaking clothing. Neither my willpower nor my wallet can handle it. The kaleidoscope of flashy apparel induces me with a driving craze to take the place hostage then pillage, plunder, and pirate it taking every last article of cotton, cashmere, silk, wool, lycra, leather, and fur with me. Clothing turns me into a trout as I am lured in and hooked by the bait, never again to let go.
A few weeks ago I was sent to the back of the gargantuan warehouse to an isolated room where boxes of defective clothing from years past sit all piled cattywampus. As I creaked the door open, I thought for sure my parents would be called because I had been found squashed under an avalanche of clothing. My boss was planning to take all the defectve clothes and have an employees sale. Everything was ten dollars and you could purchase five things. My job was to take what another intern deemed unsellable clothing and put them into donate boxes. Now, when tediously transferring from one box to another I noticed that these clothes were utterly fabulous with maybe a hole smaller than the eye of a needle. People would totally buy this high quality clothing with a slight imperfection. It gives the clothes character; that motto I have adapted after every single piece of my closet has been blemished with some ambiguous stain. I told my boss, that I thought most people would purchase the donations and she should include them in the sale, if not I was going down to the nearest salvation army and stocking up on Free People, Bailey 44, Micheal Kors, Velvet, Alexander Wang, and Herve Leger.
Nine hours later I had weeded through the clothes again paying particular attention to what MY five purchases would be. Since I had closely scrutinized every article of clothing, I found the best brands and most fabulous pieces and set them aside. I felt like the Bachelorette every time I narrowed my selection. I couldn't decide and each reduction twinged in my heart like a rose ceremony. Couldn't I just take them all home?
The day of the sale I overheard one of the buyers divulging about the rumors of an Alexander Wang sweater for sale. That sweater was in MY rose ceremony!!! And when it was thrown up onto the chopping block I eighty-sixed it for a black jacket that seemed more practical. What was I thinking? Who even needs the word practical when you have the word ALEXANDER WANG in your grasp. I quickly made the switch five minutes before the sale began. My boss swore me to secrecy and made sure to distract the buyers from viewing my substitute.
I became overwhelmed with guilt as I saw the lady in search of the hidden treasure. She dug through the jackets and then the knits; never to uncover the gem. I stood there watching over the sale with a devilish wry smirk glued onto my face. I couldn't wait to go home and bask in the glory of my purchase.
I will post blogs on my four other purchases (they are even better!!)
My boss let me have at the leftovers the next time I came in to intern. All I can say is I have no idea why Santa Claus doesn't have back problems. I slung twenty-two more items over my back and reveled in my euphoria. If I am stuck in accounting and never get a job in fashion I will be a dedicated intern at Revolve for the rest of my life. The perks are just too great.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Faux Vintage
Every time I enter a thrift store I bolt for the exit shortly after taking in a whiff of all the hoary well-worn clothing. The odor that fills the air makes my nose hair stand on end. If I manage to block out the stench and sort through the mismash and hodge-podge I typically cannot find anything other than my great-grandmothers apron used solely for protecting her pajammas from stains while eating over a t.v. tray. Once in a blue moon I may happen upon a dress with an offbeat pattern, but when I go to the dressing room I can't even step out clothed enough not to pull a Janet Jackson to show my mom. I would have to surgically remove several ribs, strangle myself into a corset, and add several inches of fabric just to get the miniature size dress to zip up. The ladies that wore these dresses must have forgotten to drink their milk as children becasue I have no idea how even solely their skin and bones could possibly fit into these dinky vintage dresses. Who wore those vintage dresses? Are they dead from malnutrition?
However, I have been able to find vintage style dresses that are more suitable for us big boned women. The dress shown above is snak from Anthropologie. I wish I could upload a link so you could view the dress online, but it is making its way to becoming a vintage itself. My mom actually bought it for herself probably eight years ago and has now handed it down to me. I feel so dainty when I slip it on and I absolutely love wearing it. It's a total crowd pleaser; even though I will get a couple ignorant testosterone infused male remarks thrown in telling me I resemble their grandmother. Then I just brush my shoulders off and think to myself, "Well you're wearing the exact same jeans and t-shirt that you wore yesterday (oh wait I think it resembles the exact same thing you have donned for your ENTIRE LIFE!)"After that I feel so much better and I proudly strut my grandmother stuff all the way home.
The pastel apricot sweater was purchased years ago from Anthropologie as well, brand called Her Royal Highness. I give credit to my mom for sewing on all those pom poms multiple times. They used to fall off and plummet to the floor faster than autumn leaves. We would stumble upon apricot pom poms in the oddest locations with no logical reasoning behind their whereabouts. Underneath dressers, in the black-hole in the corner of my closet, and even in the backyard with signs of mastication. Several lost pom poms later and a little threading work my mom had my sweater looking like new instead of a lopsided mess.
These shoes are so adorable. The patchwork's darling, the wood heel's fabulous, and the lace's are delightful. I must confess I do not give them enough showtime out in the real world. The toes slightly veer outwards and I feel like a penguin when I walk. Maybe I am the only one detecting this issue like when I wear wooden clogs and feel like I am some kind of hooved Christmas creature prancing along. However, I have learned that not many pay much attention to others, let alone have the time to examine my flaws. So no need to worry if you look pigeon toed, hooved, penguined, lopsided, or are an exact replica of so and so's Great Grandma Dorothy as long as you like the look and can strut your stuff then go for it!
Be ready for tomorrow's blog! I have been waiting for today's event for weeks!!
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Mad Men
I have an obsessive nature. I get my mind on something and remain in a hypnotic trance until the fixation is completed. Right now I am dying for a Taylor Swift/ Seane Corn perm. Know any good perm specialists? I asked my mom if she thought I could find a perm specialist in the Long Beach/ Los Angleles region and she flippantly chuckled and replied well I am pretty darn sure there's nobody out there doing perms all day long since I haven't spotted a bird's nest on someone under the age of 82 in the last twenty years. Clearly, she is not gung-ho about the idea.
I will most likely find some hair stylist willing to risk their reputation and give it a go on my nappy head of blond dried out, split ended, over processed damaged hair (since my regular hair stylist wide-eyed gave me a big no way Jose.) Then a month later I will have my tail tucked between my legs and come to my mom saying why didn't you stop me, don't ever let me do this again!! Just like when I had the bright idea that cornrows would definitely work, a big Borat, NOT!!!
So this brings me to this last month when I became obsessed with becoming a spin instructor. My poor little car drove every freeway in So. Cal going to multiple spin classes to spy on different techniques of instructors. I ,of course, made a long four hour trip to San Luis Obispo to take the certification because there was no possibility I could wait an entire month to take the same class in Los Angeles. Two weeks later.... I haven't even made a playlist of songs to audition to get the job... but I do have a beautifully signed certification (anyone need private lessons, I have reduced recession roll back rates!?!)
While in San Louis Obispo I went to the movies, in all my downtime the night before, I saw the movie Crazy Stupid Love. Let me just tell you Ryan Gosling is so hot he could steam up a sauna. I took three weeks of an intro to film class this summer (that I dropped) and ya the mise-en-scene, editing, acting, sound, narrative, yada yada yada were good, but the only thing that I cared about was Ryan Gosling's steel abs and most importantly his impeccable apparel. Wardrobe really had their head on straight for that movie.
I personally believe an exquisite suit can land a job at any dream company. It transforms you into someone else. Your Clark Kent personality instantly becomes Superman easily able to conquer all. This is what Ryan Gosling's character does as he renews and revamps Steve Carrel turning him into a never thought possible lady's catch.
Styling a men's wardrobe requires few articles. However, it is an investment and investments require capital. If you purchase a quality suit I promise it will be worth it. One of men's many advantages is the convenience of wearing the same outfit again and again. Nobody will notice the repetition only the fact that man do you look powerful in that gorgeous suit. I also suggest laying down a little cash for a decent hair cut (no at-home buzzes) and a pair of quality shoes. That's it! We women have to buy countless ensembles, over-priced purses, spend buckets every 6-weeks on our hair, wax nearly every hair on our body, polish every nail, and cover every eye bag. You just purchase a suit and call it a day(more like year).
Banana Republic released their new line Mad Men today. I highly recommend their 1960's esque collection including suits, vests, pants, ties, and fedora hats. If you are anywhere near resembling Steve Carrel post-divorce pre-renovation then I suggest you head down to the nearest Banana Republic and do yourself a favor and invest in the new you. A promotion might be headed your way if you do.
Yoga Instructor Seane Corn |
So this brings me to this last month when I became obsessed with becoming a spin instructor. My poor little car drove every freeway in So. Cal going to multiple spin classes to spy on different techniques of instructors. I ,of course, made a long four hour trip to San Luis Obispo to take the certification because there was no possibility I could wait an entire month to take the same class in Los Angeles. Two weeks later.... I haven't even made a playlist of songs to audition to get the job... but I do have a beautifully signed certification (anyone need private lessons, I have reduced recession roll back rates!?!)
While in San Louis Obispo I went to the movies, in all my downtime the night before, I saw the movie Crazy Stupid Love. Let me just tell you Ryan Gosling is so hot he could steam up a sauna. I took three weeks of an intro to film class this summer (that I dropped) and ya the mise-en-scene, editing, acting, sound, narrative, yada yada yada were good, but the only thing that I cared about was Ryan Gosling's steel abs and most importantly his impeccable apparel. Wardrobe really had their head on straight for that movie.
I personally believe an exquisite suit can land a job at any dream company. It transforms you into someone else. Your Clark Kent personality instantly becomes Superman easily able to conquer all. This is what Ryan Gosling's character does as he renews and revamps Steve Carrel turning him into a never thought possible lady's catch.
Styling a men's wardrobe requires few articles. However, it is an investment and investments require capital. If you purchase a quality suit I promise it will be worth it. One of men's many advantages is the convenience of wearing the same outfit again and again. Nobody will notice the repetition only the fact that man do you look powerful in that gorgeous suit. I also suggest laying down a little cash for a decent hair cut (no at-home buzzes) and a pair of quality shoes. That's it! We women have to buy countless ensembles, over-priced purses, spend buckets every 6-weeks on our hair, wax nearly every hair on our body, polish every nail, and cover every eye bag. You just purchase a suit and call it a day(more like year).
Banana Republic released their new line Mad Men today. I highly recommend their 1960's esque collection including suits, vests, pants, ties, and fedora hats. If you are anywhere near resembling Steve Carrel post-divorce pre-renovation then I suggest you head down to the nearest Banana Republic and do yourself a favor and invest in the new you. A promotion might be headed your way if you do.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Bill Amazing Cunningham
Now this feeble old man on the bicycle may look like just another old fogie, but little do you know the talent that this man possesses. He is the epitome of style and fashion sense. If you spotted him on the street all you would see is a rail thin veteran in a blue raincoat, khaki pants, on a bicycle, with a camera.
However, his camera holds the key to New York City’s entire best-dressed list. If you have the divine privilege of having your vignette captured by the lens of Bill Cunningham you had best laminate that bad boy, post it on every social network you can find, and frame it and place it in your foyer. Bill writes fashion news articles for the New York Times called On The Street. His column consists of ordinary people on the street, hence the title. He rides his 29th bike (28 have been stolen) around NYC and finds the fashionable folk and photographs them. His articles generally consist of themes that he sees are prevalent throughout the week like vainglorious furs, billowy skirts, or even lady gaga garb.
He just finds these people in broad day light passing by. Now I must have been uninformed of all the style and creativity found in New York because sadly when I look around So. Cal all I can find is strangling tight jeans, form fitted t-shirts, brown leather Rainbow flip-flops, and an occasional rooster feather sewn into a Brazilian blown dried hair.
Brutally honest Anna Wintour |
I purchased this poster online and have it proudly displayed by my closet. Highly recommend this inspirational piece. |
Recently I went on a movie date with my grandma. There was nothing that I was aware of coming out worthy of a hefty twelve dollar movie ticket so I fandango-ed all the movies around. I found one theatre in Culver City with two times for a showing called Bill Cunningham: New York. Little did I know my life would be changed FOREVER. Best movie I have ever had the privilege of viewing. Netflix it, bootleg it, Blockbuster it, go down to Culver City and see it on the big screen. Whatever you need to do to get your hands on this piece of film, do it!! I drove down 45 minutes to L.A. the very next day and transfixed myself in the movie all over again with my mother. The whole time we were mesmerized and could not stop grinning ear to ear in the empty (you hear me EMPTY!?!) theatre. Our mouths watered at the sight of steeping stilettos, dresses gorgeous beyond belief, and entire outfits that I would literally die to get my grubby hands on. That night visions of New York City wardrobes danced through my head. Who knows maybe one day I will have a photo laminated, framed, and set out in my foyer taken by the Amazing Bill Cunningham…
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
We Can All Dream Can't We?
Yesterday, my mom and I made a short routine visit to Anthropologie and did our usual look at all of the new stuff in envy and then head back to the sale room. The sales back there are incredible. Its like finding the closet door in Chronicles of Narnia. You don't want to let the secret out, but it's so amazing you just can't keep it in.
My mom taught me a new bargain hunting technique. She definietly has the experience. If Anthropologie had rewards points I think she would have racked up several vacays to Fiji. I think I can see the tread of her super stylish Mephistos (not worn with my approval) scuffed on the rugged hard wood floor of the sale room from countless visits made. She says that if you can find a lone piece by itself it will be the item with the greatest price-cut. Anthro is a bit pricey and has sale items that when you look at the sale price wonder in what world would that price be discount. But when you find that neon orange blouse all by itself that looks like it would only be decent to wear in the 70's give it a second chance. Throw it on and see what you think. I have never found something I didn't like at Anthropologie. It may just be the designer top 90% off that everyone at the party thinks you impressively bought full price.
I ALWAYS find something I MUST HAVE. But surprisingly this time I used my best judgment and sadly walked out without a thick white paper bag adorned with a fabric handle. I put in my two weeks notice at the Crab Shacker and was left with only four dollars in my wallet and a handy pay card that at first I hated, but now I love. Everytime I use it I get an adrenaline rush. There maybe money from my paycheck on it and I'll have hit the lotto!! Or I will receive the embarrassing rejection like a date that I thought went fantastic with sparks shooting off in the air and was followed by no call, no e-mail, no text, no facebook message, no skype, no letter, no nothin', but a so sorry you have been DECLINED! Oops let's try this one then....
So on my final look through Anthro I spotted this work of art. It was love at first sight. Time froze as we made our first eye contact gazing into each others souls.
When I picked it up my hands trembled. Could this really be the one? It was meant for me. I slipped it over my goosebumped arms and felt the silk lining rub softly against my skin. It fit like a glove. I looked in the mirror and shrieked with joy. My mom looked over and had a grin so big I thought her lips might just tear.
I looked at the price tag crossing my fingers the entire time and knew that this love couldn't last. Maybe one day we would meet again years later like The Notebook and rekindle our love when my paycheck has doubled. I hung it back on the hanger and placed it in between its other peach friends and moped away. I knew that jacket was meant for me and would be so much happier in my closet.
Who knows maybe I will find it six months later returned with a button missing in the little back sale room. The lone ranger 90% off yearning to be loved.
My mom taught me a new bargain hunting technique. She definietly has the experience. If Anthropologie had rewards points I think she would have racked up several vacays to Fiji. I think I can see the tread of her super stylish Mephistos (not worn with my approval) scuffed on the rugged hard wood floor of the sale room from countless visits made. She says that if you can find a lone piece by itself it will be the item with the greatest price-cut. Anthro is a bit pricey and has sale items that when you look at the sale price wonder in what world would that price be discount. But when you find that neon orange blouse all by itself that looks like it would only be decent to wear in the 70's give it a second chance. Throw it on and see what you think. I have never found something I didn't like at Anthropologie. It may just be the designer top 90% off that everyone at the party thinks you impressively bought full price.
I ALWAYS find something I MUST HAVE. But surprisingly this time I used my best judgment and sadly walked out without a thick white paper bag adorned with a fabric handle. I put in my two weeks notice at the Crab Shacker and was left with only four dollars in my wallet and a handy pay card that at first I hated, but now I love. Everytime I use it I get an adrenaline rush. There maybe money from my paycheck on it and I'll have hit the lotto!! Or I will receive the embarrassing rejection like a date that I thought went fantastic with sparks shooting off in the air and was followed by no call, no e-mail, no text, no facebook message, no skype, no letter, no nothin', but a so sorry you have been DECLINED! Oops let's try this one then....
So on my final look through Anthro I spotted this work of art. It was love at first sight. Time froze as we made our first eye contact gazing into each others souls.
When I picked it up my hands trembled. Could this really be the one? It was meant for me. I slipped it over my goosebumped arms and felt the silk lining rub softly against my skin. It fit like a glove. I looked in the mirror and shrieked with joy. My mom looked over and had a grin so big I thought her lips might just tear.
I looked at the price tag crossing my fingers the entire time and knew that this love couldn't last. Maybe one day we would meet again years later like The Notebook and rekindle our love when my paycheck has doubled. I hung it back on the hanger and placed it in between its other peach friends and moped away. I knew that jacket was meant for me and would be so much happier in my closet.
Who knows maybe I will find it six months later returned with a button missing in the little back sale room. The lone ranger 90% off yearning to be loved.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Little Miss Match
I scored this dress at a kids store called Little Miss Match (they have fabulous socks, but a little pricey). I always see little girls with the most adorable flamboyant outfits and wonder why they don't make adult clothes that fun. Big bows, bright colors, and bold patterns that's what I'm all about! I guess my mom put too many headbands with flowers double the size of my head when I was a child and I never grew out of it. The boots are Frye, which is my favorite boot brand I have yet to find. The quality is incredible. They seem so timeless I always justify my sinful purchase with the thought that I will be able to wear them twenty years from now.
However, my next boot purchase will include zippers because man do these boots require a partner and a studly pair of biceps to rip off my of sausage toes.
I purchased the hat from Free People years ago. It has saved me from some bad hair days. Two years ago I thought it would be a bright idea to cornrow my hair up like Bo Derek from the movie Ten. Little did I know that when you leave your hair in braids for two months it all falls out along with the fake hair I put in. My stupid self didn't think to brush out the afro before taking a shower and going to bed. I woke up with a dred the size of a tennis ball stuck to my scalp. That just happened to be the first day of school freshman year of college. I called my boyfriend at 5:30 in the morning. The saint came and saved the day bringing me hair supplies and this miracle hat. I shoved all my hair up there and it still looked great even though i was sweating bullets in mid august. I stopped by my hair salon that day and after a good hour and a half with three ladies ripping my hair out and half my hair on the floor I left never to get corn rows again.
First experiment.
Next summer I got corn rows again. Who knows this summer isn't over yet....
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