I know Thanksgiving is over, but the sentimental holiday season has officially begun! Meaning that from now until January 1, all of my friends will have to hear me wax on about how attractive/funny/talented/kind they are on the daily, until it seems like these compliments have lost their meaning. Then I'll brutally stop doling them out on that fateful date, and y'all will wish that I would go back to being gratuitous with my feelings.
BWA HA HA.
So, here's what makes me all warm on the inside in no particular order:
1) All of you attractive, funny, talented, kind people that read this here blog and comment on it. It's pretty egotistical to keep a blog, so the fact that you all are willing to indulge my selfish ventures by reading it and spur them on by adding delightful comments means the world to me.
2) People shopping again, whether it's for supplies to make handmade goods or dresses from Zara.
3) The fact that at the end of the day, I'd need more than one modestly-sized list to outline everything I have to be thankful for.
4) But most importantly of all, ungodly high heels. Specifically, Christmas heels meant for strippers.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
For the record, I still have "Bad Romance" stuck in my head
Naturally, when I think of the Lady herself, my thoughts wander over to undergarments. I'm not about to endorse parading around in one's bra and knickers* and calling that an outfit, but praises need to be sung of a certain underutilized garment.
THE SLIP.
That's right. If you're a lady, or a man that favors skirts over pants, you should be wearing a slip during the winter months. I used to be ignorant and think that only old ladies wore slips. WRONG. Attractive, young women who don't want their ladyparts outlined for all the world to see when a stiff wind blows or static cling takes over wear slips.
You see, when you wear a cotton/rayon/jersey/really any "easy, breezy" fabric dress (with or without some type of legwear), it's bound to stick to certain places**. LIKE TO THE OUTLINE OF YOUR HOT BOD. Unless the dress is extremely structured and composed of a stiffer fabric, you're going to be yanking your dress away from your body almost all day. That is when a slip is a literally godsend. Throw a little piece of satin under your dress, and you'll notice an approximately 90% rate of reduction in adjusting.
Unfortunately, many people (including retailers) have jumped on the "slips are lame! Boo!" bandwagon, and only sell kidney-squishing Spanx. That's when you find Kohl's, or your state's equivalent, and head over to their undergarments section. Look for the unexciting nude, white, and black collection of fabric pieces, and you'll have found the slips. If you're only having issues with the skirt of your dress, save money and buy a half slip. If the whole she-bang has got you in a tizzy, buy the full body one. Trust me, you won't regret it.
Or, if you've got decent thrift stores in your area--hell, they don't even have to be decent--start rooting around there. It's not the same as buying used underwear, so don't even start with the judgmental looks, MMMK? Who knows? You might find a red, maribou-trimmed one! However impractical that might be for wearing under things, you'll be able to imagine what the woman who used to own it was like. I'm going with an aging, but still foxy lady of the night, who smoked Pall Malls with a cigarette holder, and said things like "dahhhhling! We're out of gin and it's almost dinnertime. What WILL I eat?"
Tangents aside, I think we can all learn a little lesson from that aging hooker: even whores should wear appropriate foundation garments.
*I hate the words "panties" and "underwear." Knickers is pretty much all I have left.
**This excludes American Apparel dresses, which were designed solely to outline every last inch of your hot bod. Work it.
THE SLIP.
That's right. If you're a lady, or a man that favors skirts over pants, you should be wearing a slip during the winter months. I used to be ignorant and think that only old ladies wore slips. WRONG. Attractive, young women who don't want their ladyparts outlined for all the world to see when a stiff wind blows or static cling takes over wear slips.
You see, when you wear a cotton/rayon/jersey/really any "easy, breezy" fabric dress (with or without some type of legwear), it's bound to stick to certain places**. LIKE TO THE OUTLINE OF YOUR HOT BOD. Unless the dress is extremely structured and composed of a stiffer fabric, you're going to be yanking your dress away from your body almost all day. That is when a slip is a literally godsend. Throw a little piece of satin under your dress, and you'll notice an approximately 90% rate of reduction in adjusting.
Unfortunately, many people (including retailers) have jumped on the "slips are lame! Boo!" bandwagon, and only sell kidney-squishing Spanx. That's when you find Kohl's, or your state's equivalent, and head over to their undergarments section. Look for the unexciting nude, white, and black collection of fabric pieces, and you'll have found the slips. If you're only having issues with the skirt of your dress, save money and buy a half slip. If the whole she-bang has got you in a tizzy, buy the full body one. Trust me, you won't regret it.
Or, if you've got decent thrift stores in your area--hell, they don't even have to be decent--start rooting around there. It's not the same as buying used underwear, so don't even start with the judgmental looks, MMMK? Who knows? You might find a red, maribou-trimmed one! However impractical that might be for wearing under things, you'll be able to imagine what the woman who used to own it was like. I'm going with an aging, but still foxy lady of the night, who smoked Pall Malls with a cigarette holder, and said things like "dahhhhling! We're out of gin and it's almost dinnertime. What WILL I eat?"
Tangents aside, I think we can all learn a little lesson from that aging hooker: even whores should wear appropriate foundation garments.
*I hate the words "panties" and "underwear." Knickers is pretty much all I have left.
**This excludes American Apparel dresses, which were designed solely to outline every last inch of your hot bod. Work it.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Jezebel and Jesus in one convenient figure
I have my fair share of shallow and comparatively deep beliefs. One of those beliefs happens to be reserved for Lady GaGa. Say what you will about her music, but the girl knows how to present herself. Just watch the video for "Bad Romance" if you haven't already.
12-inch Alexander McQueen heels! Yeah, Vogue editors measured them. The Economist might be predicting when this whole recession mess will end, but methinks it's safe to say that Vogue is doing the hard-hitting investigative journalism here.
12-inch Alexander McQueen heels! Yeah, Vogue editors measured them. The Economist might be predicting when this whole recession mess will end, but methinks it's safe to say that Vogue is doing the hard-hitting investigative journalism here.
Monday, November 16, 2009
It's jam-jam time
That time is as great as Hammertime, right? Oh, who am I kidding. Changing into pajamas isn't anywhere near as fun as watching MC Hammer do just about anything.
I take advice that comes from strangers really, really well. When a well-meaning family member or friend offers sage wisdom, I'm quite stubborn about it, and will wait about three weeks before quietly integrating it into my day-to-day life, hoping that they don't notice my concession. However, when a magazine, book, or homeless person instructs me to do something, I am all about hopping on their bandwagon.
Where is this going? Here we are: most magazines write about how you should throw out "ugly" clothes like sweatpants and holey pajamas, because you feel worse about yourself when you wear crappy clothes. This makes sense, to a point. While I crawl into a state of depression if I wear sweatpants for more than three days in a row, they're still kind of comfy for when I don't want to wear pants with any kind of structure.
Instead of listening to the "to a point" qualifier that was in my head, I decided to give all of my crappy pajamas and sweatpants to Goodwill. Because that's what you do if you want to be beautiful, happy, and fashionable! Except I neglected to do what said magazine instructed next: go buy more shit so that you're not standing in the middle of your room at night wondering what you're going to wear to bed. This might not be a big deal to those of you who sleep naked, but for me, this is huge. I'm an incredibly cold person (both emotionally and physically...zing! To myself!), so I need to be bundled in unattractive layers of flannel and sweatsuit material. It's taken me quite a long time and GIVING AWAY MY PAJAMAS to realize that no, I won't feel like crap if I go to bed in flannel sweatpants or a nightgown my grandma would have been proud to wear. I'll be too busy feeling warm.
Also, I think I'm going to stop taking advice from magazines for a time. With the exception of Cosmopolitan. I'm always open to advice on how to make sex last for five hours using only an ice cube, a spoonful of peanut butter, and a tie.
I take advice that comes from strangers really, really well. When a well-meaning family member or friend offers sage wisdom, I'm quite stubborn about it, and will wait about three weeks before quietly integrating it into my day-to-day life, hoping that they don't notice my concession. However, when a magazine, book, or homeless person instructs me to do something, I am all about hopping on their bandwagon.
Where is this going? Here we are: most magazines write about how you should throw out "ugly" clothes like sweatpants and holey pajamas, because you feel worse about yourself when you wear crappy clothes. This makes sense, to a point. While I crawl into a state of depression if I wear sweatpants for more than three days in a row, they're still kind of comfy for when I don't want to wear pants with any kind of structure.
Instead of listening to the "to a point" qualifier that was in my head, I decided to give all of my crappy pajamas and sweatpants to Goodwill. Because that's what you do if you want to be beautiful, happy, and fashionable! Except I neglected to do what said magazine instructed next: go buy more shit so that you're not standing in the middle of your room at night wondering what you're going to wear to bed. This might not be a big deal to those of you who sleep naked, but for me, this is huge. I'm an incredibly cold person (both emotionally and physically...zing! To myself!), so I need to be bundled in unattractive layers of flannel and sweatsuit material. It's taken me quite a long time and GIVING AWAY MY PAJAMAS to realize that no, I won't feel like crap if I go to bed in flannel sweatpants or a nightgown my grandma would have been proud to wear. I'll be too busy feeling warm.
Also, I think I'm going to stop taking advice from magazines for a time. With the exception of Cosmopolitan. I'm always open to advice on how to make sex last for five hours using only an ice cube, a spoonful of peanut butter, and a tie.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tonic n' Tights
It's Wednesday night, and I'm thoroughly entrenched in finishing a vodka tonic, writing a pop culture week in review article, and hand-washing my tights.
I believe that this is the definition you'll find when you look up "living the dream" in a phrase dictionary.
I believe that this is the definition you'll find when you look up "living the dream" in a phrase dictionary.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Office where?
I'm double-posting today because I'm extremely passionate about these two things: post titles that play on words and business attire.
Currently, I "work" two "jobs" that don't really ask for much, sartorially speaking. From 10 am until 2 pm, I'm an unpaid intern at The A.V. Club, where I transcribe interviews and listen to hilarious conversations about facial hair and the validity of defining RoboCop as a cinematic gem. From 4 pm to 8 pm, I work from home doing freelance editing for a test preparation company.
The rules of dress for The A.V. Club are as follows:
1) Make sure you wear something that covers both your top half and your bottom half.
2) If that's asking too much, a bathrobe is also acceptable.
The rules of dress for working from home are as follows:
1) THERE ARE NO RULES. Sometimes I wear (clean) underpants on my head while talking to my editor just because I can.
However, as someone who likes to wear frilly and impractical things, you had better believe that I do a little bit more than just cover my respective halves at my internship, and sometimes, I'll even wear pants while working at home. It's easy for me to feel self-conscious about being entirely overdressed for certain occassions though, so I recently sent this query out into the universe: is it appropriate to wear a floor-length silk dress to work? More importantly, to a place where Converse and khaki pants reign?
For me, I've realized that the answer is yes. I do get a couple of double-takes at the internship for wearing some of the things I do. But I find that I do as many double-takes when I discover just how much Simpsons memorabila a staffer owns, or that the guy working two seats down from me is a competitive facial hair grower.
Everyone is a nerd about their own thing, whether it's fashion, medieval literature, or True Blood. Frankly, I don't think I really want to know a person unless they could be classifed as a nerd. Those passions are the awkward conversation starters, and I for one know that I don't feel nearly as interesting when I just cover my top and bottom half without any thought. While I do plan on drawing the line at wearing straight-up stripper boots to work, I've learned in these past few weeks that "office attire" isn't so much of a death sentence as it is a general guideline to be entirely messed around with in my current situation.
Because honestly, when you're working two seats away from a champion beard-grower, you've got to bring your A-game in whatever area you can.
Currently, I "work" two "jobs" that don't really ask for much, sartorially speaking. From 10 am until 2 pm, I'm an unpaid intern at The A.V. Club, where I transcribe interviews and listen to hilarious conversations about facial hair and the validity of defining RoboCop as a cinematic gem. From 4 pm to 8 pm, I work from home doing freelance editing for a test preparation company.
The rules of dress for The A.V. Club are as follows:
1) Make sure you wear something that covers both your top half and your bottom half.
2) If that's asking too much, a bathrobe is also acceptable.
The rules of dress for working from home are as follows:
1) THERE ARE NO RULES. Sometimes I wear (clean) underpants on my head while talking to my editor just because I can.
However, as someone who likes to wear frilly and impractical things, you had better believe that I do a little bit more than just cover my respective halves at my internship, and sometimes, I'll even wear pants while working at home. It's easy for me to feel self-conscious about being entirely overdressed for certain occassions though, so I recently sent this query out into the universe: is it appropriate to wear a floor-length silk dress to work? More importantly, to a place where Converse and khaki pants reign?
For me, I've realized that the answer is yes. I do get a couple of double-takes at the internship for wearing some of the things I do. But I find that I do as many double-takes when I discover just how much Simpsons memorabila a staffer owns, or that the guy working two seats down from me is a competitive facial hair grower.
Everyone is a nerd about their own thing, whether it's fashion, medieval literature, or True Blood. Frankly, I don't think I really want to know a person unless they could be classifed as a nerd. Those passions are the awkward conversation starters, and I for one know that I don't feel nearly as interesting when I just cover my top and bottom half without any thought. While I do plan on drawing the line at wearing straight-up stripper boots to work, I've learned in these past few weeks that "office attire" isn't so much of a death sentence as it is a general guideline to be entirely messed around with in my current situation.
Because honestly, when you're working two seats away from a champion beard-grower, you've got to bring your A-game in whatever area you can.
CHANGES
Oh hey, guys. You know how I tend to wax philosophic about how nothing is original, especially style, and that I'm totally OK with that. Like, I even think it's cool that everything has been done?
Well, then I guess this makes me the coolest person ever. I got curious and vain the other day, and so I Googled "La Vie en Vogue." OMG, there are other blogs named that.
My e-face was red with embarassment. I felt like Holden was going to pop out of the pages of Catcher in the Rye and spend 30 minutes calling me phony all while alluding to sexual abuse. I would get the last laugh though, because I would tell him that he was my least favorite character in the history of forever, and he would sulk away. But I would still be left with a derivative blog title. So no one wins.
I immediately ran to the drawing board to try and think of new blog names. Why did I choose "skeleton key," which doesn't really conjure up anything fashion-related? Let's list it out.
1) Because even though I joke about the impact that fashion and style has all the time, I honestly believe that (wait for it) fashion is the key to most everything. Kind of like a skeleton key can unlock any door. Try to keep up with these wicked hardcore (and apparently Boston-accented) connections.
2) I have a fascination with keys and keyholes. Last year, I found an antique-y key on our shelf, and I started wearing it on a long chain. It sort of became my favorite piece of jewelry. My favorite book, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, utilizes keyhole imagery throughout, so BAM. I love keys.
3) Having "skeleton key" as a title will finally draw the Halloween-lovin' audience that I've been DESPERATELY trying to tap into.
So there. I know this shakes all of your foundations to their very core, but I promise. We'll get through this. Oh, and I changed the background because I felt like it.
Well, then I guess this makes me the coolest person ever. I got curious and vain the other day, and so I Googled "La Vie en Vogue." OMG, there are other blogs named that.
My e-face was red with embarassment. I felt like Holden was going to pop out of the pages of Catcher in the Rye and spend 30 minutes calling me phony all while alluding to sexual abuse. I would get the last laugh though, because I would tell him that he was my least favorite character in the history of forever, and he would sulk away. But I would still be left with a derivative blog title. So no one wins.
I immediately ran to the drawing board to try and think of new blog names. Why did I choose "skeleton key," which doesn't really conjure up anything fashion-related? Let's list it out.
1) Because even though I joke about the impact that fashion and style has all the time, I honestly believe that (wait for it) fashion is the key to most everything. Kind of like a skeleton key can unlock any door. Try to keep up with these wicked hardcore (and apparently Boston-accented) connections.
2) I have a fascination with keys and keyholes. Last year, I found an antique-y key on our shelf, and I started wearing it on a long chain. It sort of became my favorite piece of jewelry. My favorite book, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, utilizes keyhole imagery throughout, so BAM. I love keys.
3) Having "skeleton key" as a title will finally draw the Halloween-lovin' audience that I've been DESPERATELY trying to tap into.
So there. I know this shakes all of your foundations to their very core, but I promise. We'll get through this. Oh, and I changed the background because I felt like it.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Deep thoughts. So deep that I should probably call them MUSINGS.
--Is is inappropriate to wear a full-length floral silk dress to an internship where business attire = a plaid flannel? I'll find out soon.
--If I didn't like animals so much, I think I would wear leather every day of my life.
--Five-inch heels: hopelessly tasteless, or delightfully tacky?
--If I didn't like animals so much, I think I would wear leather every day of my life.
--Five-inch heels: hopelessly tasteless, or delightfully tacky?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)